Right, let me tell you something – I’ve seen my fair share of folk horror films (proper obsessed with them, if I’m honest), but nothing quite prepared me for what Athina Rachel Tsangari’s done with Harvest. It’s like The Wicker Man had a wild night out with Alejandro Jodorowsky, and their lovechild decided to become a nihilist western. Mad, right?
The film opens with what might be 2025’s most arresting sequence – a hand waving through golden wheat like some possessed scarecrow having a dance-off. Then there’s Caleb Landry Jones, looking like he’s auditioning for both a Greek tragedy and a Japanese period drama, licking rocks and munching moss. You couldn’t make it up!
But here’s the kicker – just when you think you’ve got it pegged as another arty folk horror, the soundtrack hits you like a brick wrapped in vintage vinyl. Romanian prog rock? In a pastoral horror? It’s bonkers, brilliant, and exactly what cinema needs right now.
Having caught the film at a midnight screening in Soho (where else?), I can confirm the sound design is proper next level. Every crunch of moss, every whisper of wheat gets the ASMR treatment before being absolutely demolished by face-melting Romanian rock. It’s like someone gave Pink Floyd a handful of mushrooms and told them to score a Greek tragedy.
The director herself calls it a “nihilist western,” which feels spot on if your idea of a western involves philosophical shepherds and existential dread rather than cowboys and shootouts.
For those who’ve followed Tsangari’s career (and if you haven’t, where’ve you been?), Harvest represents a massive leap forward. From Attenberg’s quirky commentary on Greek society to Chevalier’s bromantic boat shenanigans, she’s always played with genre. But this? This is something else entirely.
Yes and no – while it uses folk horror elements, Tsangari blends these with western, art house, and experimental film techniques. It’s more accurate to call it a genre-fluid pastoral nightmare.
The music creates a deliberate anachronistic clash with the pastoral setting, emphasizing the film’s themes of tradition versus destruction. Plus, it absolutely slaps.
While maintaining her signature genre-bending style, Harvest represents Tsangari’s most ambitious and experimental film yet, pushing beyond the boundaries of her earlier works like Attenberg and Chevalier.
Look, let’s not mince words – Harvest isn’t going to be everyone’s cup of tea (or shot of raki, if we’re keeping it Greek). But if you’re tired of cookie-cutter horror and fancy something that’ll properly scramble your brain, this is your ticket. Just don’t blame me if you start having weird dreams about philosophical shepherds moshing to prog rock.
Share your thoughts below – especially if you’ve managed to decode that bonkers third act. I’ve got theories, but I’m pretty sure they’re all wrong!