Apos­tle

The search for God is a bloody affair in Gareth Evans’ new film. Apos­tle is cut from the same cloth as The Wick­er Man and Black Death, in which faith­less pro­tag­o­nists intrud­ing on spaces gov­erned by faith con­front cru­el­ty couched in wor­ship. Specif­i­cal­ly, it shares the former’s smil­ing fanati­cism and the latter’s mis­placed devo­tion. Apos­tle con­tains all the essen­tial ele­ments of reli­gious hor­ror, but cru­cial­ly dis­tin­guish­es itself through the con­clu­sions the direc­tor draws.

The film hov­ers in the orbit of Thomas Richard­son (Dan Stevens), a man har­rowed by an expe­ri­ence only revealed much lat­er. Thomas wres­tles with his own faith as he trav­els to Eris­den, a small island iso­lat­ed from civil­i­sa­tion, to find his sis­ter has been kid­napped by the reli­gious cult that calls it home. Thomas’ nihilism reads as a welt­ing unease whose itch he can’t help scratch­ing: he’s in a state of per­pet­u­al dis­gruntle­ment, qui­et­ly fran­tic as he search­es for his lost sib­ling. Erisden’s lead­ers, Mal­colm (Michael Sheen), Quinn (Mark Lewis Jones) and Frank (Paul Hig­gins), preach egal­i­tar­i­an­ism, describ­ing the isle as par­adise – but there are wicked truths sown into this land and the com­mu­ni­ty built upon it.

We sense some­thing is off even before Evans ush­ers us to the island prop­er, as Thomas boards a ves­sel char­tered for the undis­closed loca­tion. His arrival in Eris­den rais­es imme­di­ate con­cern among the rul­ing body, and it’s this sense of cul­tur­al para­noia which results in Apostle’s most pro­found state­ment about reli­gion: it’s not the act of obser­va­tion but the hearts dri­ving it that fuels ide­o­log­i­cal strife.

Thomas is grim­ly com­mit­ted to his skep­ti­cism, and for good rea­son – Mal­colm main­tains his con­vic­tion part­ly thanks to the Crown’s inter­mit­tent attempts on his life, and part­ly because he has cause to believe. He’s charged with keep­ing Erisden’s mon­strous secrets as Thomas begins to unrav­el them, but at times it seems as though Mal­colm might rather spill their poison.

Evans treats the cam­era (manned by his long­time col­lab­o­ra­tor Matt Flan­nery) almost as a char­ac­ter unto itself. Move­ment is vital to the film’s effi­ca­cy, lend­ing urgency to its ghastli­est sequences and even its more hushed moments of dread. The direc­tor is best known for the 2011 mar­tial arts action­er The Raid and its 2014 sequel, yet his dis­tinc­tive styl­is­tic approach great­ly ben­e­fits the hor­ror tone of Apos­tle, adding momen­tum to the apoc­a­lyp­tic mad­ness of its final minutes.

Evans enthrals and repuls­es in equal mea­sure through a com­bi­na­tion of gory excess and spir­i­tu­al unease. As with his pre­vi­ous work (most notably Safe Haven, his con­tri­bu­tion to the 2013 hor­ror anthol­o­gy V/H/S/2), Apos­tle is a thrilling ride. But there’s a grav­i­tas here – a con­nec­tion to hor­ror her­itage – that allows the film to linger in our minds beyond the cred­its. It’s a film made to get under our skin and into our souls.