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Recklessly assembled and occasionally compelling in spite of itself, A Field in England showcases a singularly brilliant voice in British cinema.
All Critics (70)
| Top Critics (15)
| Fresh (62)
| Rotten (8)
It's the English Civil War on magic mushrooms!
A Field In England is mad monochrome mayhem that's utterly hypnotic.
It's about shifting power games, mostly, and suggests a period film made by Samuel Beckett in one of his more playful moods.
It's dementia for its own sake, an empty head-trip.
A challenging piece of work to be sure, due for eventual midnight-movie cultdom.
This is a deeply, at times exclusively visceral movie. It aims to wring out, mind-eff and visually beat up its viewers, and perhaps cast a malevolent spell in the process.
It's admirable that Wheatley's attempting to tap into an idea of Englishness with his merging of a civil war backstory to notions of landscape and England's rural-social past.
For all its drawbacks, A Field in England is undoubtedly best on the big screen -- if just for its striking visuals and memorable oddities.
A Field in England becomes a film that necessitates and acquired taste to appreciate it. That being said, if you have enjoyed any of Wheatley's films to date you should check out this one as well.
Laurie Rose, Wheatley's regular DP, brings to the film the same charged feel for landscape he so potently demonstrated in Sightseers.
A Field in England can be seen as a dying man's fever dream, or even a sojourn into the afterlife, a vision of hell in which O'Neill must be Lucifer.
Hallucinogenic black-and-white visuals, eerie sounds, sporadic splatter and potentially insufferable philosophising are blessedly leavened with earthy humour. Think Tarkovsky's Stalker meets Monty Python's Holy Grail.
Four men walk over a field in 17th century England, in black and white. What follows is weirdness. While some frames are really beautifully filmed, other parts are so trippy you think you're in a music video. Even though it's no long film, it sometimes feels like it, and yet there is an odd fascination for what's going on up until the bloody finale. You're left to make up your own mind about what all the fuzz was all about. The beautiful end credits song makes you think you've seen a much better film than it actually is. File under: artsy fartsy or What the hell did I just watch?
A waste of time. Of memory. Of thought. A waste. A refutation of the idea of Anglo dominance in film, indeed, the very argument against that theory. And yet so well thought of? I don't get it. If one has access to magic mushrooms my advice would be to do those instead.
A pointless exercise in pointless nothingnes. Seriously, critics are bashing Only God Forgives and praising this? Go figure.
Bizarre and arresting at times, but also audacious and thought-provoking, Ben Wheatley's latest film ultimately works because of its mood, visual style and performances.
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