In several of the scenes in The moor from David casademunt, which you can find in Netflix, the silence is absolute. The camera goes from one place to another on the small stage where the plot takes place and observes. Little by little, what appears to be a simple premise tinged with horror folk, Becomes a very hard look on fear. One that, in addition, is related to the condition of loneliness, uprooting, mourning and what is hidden in the shadows. The director encompasses all of the above with just the suggestion. Also, with the perception that I hide it, it is something more a trope destined to startle.
The moor bet on the sophisticated to narrate something greater. What begins as a rural story of exclusion and pain ends as a full-blown horror premise. When the family made up of Salvador (Roberto Álamo), Lucía (Inma Cuesta) and Diego (Asier Flores) must face the unknown, the shadows are the enemy. Close to horror based on Robert Eggers’ play of lights and claustrophobic settings in The witch (2015), The moor it is minimally effective. Also, in the sublimation of what happens between the lines in a script that is not easily lavished. The secrets are revealed little by little and when the darkness – the terror – is finally incarnated, the film does so with a powerful solidity. In fact, one of the film’s great achievements is its ability to relate what is unspoken with care.
Set in the 19th century in an unidentified place in Spain, the film uses context skillfully. So the open windows, the sounds of wood and the wind, are ways to shore up the tension. Further, Casademunt manages to create an exercise in atmosphere that goes beyond the merely anecdotal. Between the foggy lighting bursts of pure light and the horrors in utter darkness, the film is a prodigy of minimal skill.
Everything that happens in the dark of The moor
For Casademunt, The moor It is not just your circumstance. It is also the myth that he feeds and builds with anthropological skill. As if it were a story that is sustained in two different lines, the argument shows Diego’s vision as central. The subjective eye of the camera, narrates the small details to encompass the absurd and the fearsome. At the same time, he comes and goes through the dark corners to show how the trace of time is also a form of fear.
But the really powerful thing comes when the film assumes its status as a genre tale and sustains something twisted. Whatever lurks in plain sight becomes an increasingly obvious and suffocating lurking footprint. It is then that Casademunt makes the right decision to build a debate on fear and its ramifications from the codes of terror. The fight against madness – which is suggested and sublimated – then turns into darkness in its purest form. In a step of consciousness that creates and sustains a more subtle and delicate version of terror than could be expected.
With his air of Western Gothic and also, a version of naturalism at the service of tension, The moor it’s a piece of art. Also, it is a heartbreaking vision of loss, deep terrors and a break with reality. All in an extraordinary vision of fear that goes beyond the idea of what is being looked at and elaborates something more leisurely and coherent. A space between primitive terrors that is undoubtedly your best bet.