In 1973, a volunteer (Mary Woodvine) is tasked with observing a rare flower growing on an island off the Cornish coast. Each day, she must head out to the cliffside where they grow, take the temperature of the soil, and record it in a logbook. The rest of her time there appears to belong to her. She fires up her generator and listens to the radio, walks around the island, and reads by candlelight at night before bed. Then reality is destabilized, and nothing she or the audience experiences can be taken at face value.

Like his breakthrough film Bait (2019), Jenkin shot Enys Men on 16mm. All the sounds – the sparse dialogue, the screeching of the seagulls and the pounding of the waves – were added afterwards. The result is a film full of textures. Of sharp rocks, weathered skin, and of the gritty film itself. Cryptic and beguiling, Enys Men is a slow, seductive meditation on place and memory. Shaped by the woman’s excursions, the movie builds a repetitive, hypnotic rhythm.

IMDb

Content warning

Sign up for the Zienema newsletter