Interviews
[Interview] Heading Into the Woods With ‘The Ritual’ Director David Bruckner
This past weekend, Netflix head into the woods with the creature feature The Ritual, directed by David Bruckner (The Signal, V/H/S, Southbound). Last week, we shared this juicy morsel of our chat with the filmmaker, who revealed that that the creature derives from Norse mythology. Now, we dive deep into the film that follows a group of college friends who reunite for a trip to the forest, but encounter a menacing presence in the woods that’s stalking them. Warning that spoilers do follow…
What drew Bruckner to the project was the sense of a deteriorating friendship:
“My manager first slipped me a draft of Joe Barton‘s screenplay in the Spring of 2016 and I followed up immediately with Adam Nevill‘s novel,” Bruckner explained of the genesis of his involvement. “I was blown away on both fronts. While the horror was incredibly compelling, what drew me closest to the material was the relationship among the guys and the sense of deteriorating male friendship.
“I always find that horror works best when it’s tethered to real-world anxieties and this felt especially relevant to me, both personally and as a broader exploration of masculinity in crisis.”
“During the initial prep period, Barton and I worked very closely with a lot of help from Will Tennant and our producer, Richard Holmes to execute what was ultimately a fourth and final draft,” he continues. “I really wanted to preserve Joe’s unique handle on the dialog as well as some important discoveries he had made translating the novel to screen. On the other hand, I had my own experience with Nevill’s book and felt there were some conflicts, particularly between the guys, that needed to find a way back in.”
Speaking to some of the changes, Bruckner continues: “The novel has a lot of bandwidth to dive into both the mythology of the forest and the psychology of Luke, the central protagonist. Because it’s prose, the book can easily maneuver in and out of Luke’s thoughts, oscillating between his inner monologue as he’s increasingly alienated by his friends, and a ton of memory replay as he ponders who they used to be. To translate that directly to screen would involve voiceover, or crosscutting to backstory and would likely undermine the tension of the movie as a movie. They’re just fundamentally different mediums.
“So we created a tragic event at the start of the film that the audience can experience alongside the characters.
“Luke is arguably culpable for what happens, which leads to later resentment, disrespect, and alienation from the rest of his friends. We were aiming for a similar emotional experience as the book, but using an external event to bring it to the surface.
“There are also some seemingly major differences between the end of the book and the movie,” he continues. “I don’t want to give away too much for those who haven’t looked at either, so I’ll just say that they’re more similar than they may seem! But we felt we had to dress it up a little differently, in large part because of limited screen time and the fact that cinematic expectations are a bit more narrow. How hard of a left turn do you want to make in the final act? We thought that needed a little shifting.”
The cinematography is incredible, reminding this writer of An American Werewolf in London, while the locations are equally stunning.
“Well, this was a location shoot through and through,” explained Bruckner. “With the exception of the opening, the entire movie was filmed on the Bucegi Plateau in the Southern Carpathian Mountains. And the spruce forests up there have an extremely distinct look. Because the forest canopy is so dense, there are areas where the needles die off underneath and the branches run straight to the ground.
“This gives the trees a very spiny, threatening look that, for a horror film, feels a little over the top in all the right ways.
“This was consistent with the way Adi Curelea, the production designer, and myself discussed much of the imagery. From the set construction to the atmospheric special effects, to the creature design, we always felt the movie should have a slight arch sensibility; just a touch of playful self-awareness. Perhaps that’s where you detect some similarities to An American Werewolf in London?”
He continues speaking more to the cinematography: “As far as the photography, our DP Andrew Shullkind, who I worked with on Southbound, convinced me to go with a set of Canon cameras and extremely fast lenses that excel in low light conditions. So we were able to cover quite a bit of imagery during twilight hours and much of the night work is lit primarily with the actors’ flashlights. Andrew got a lot of dimension out of the darkness which really puts you in the woods. We also resisted the temptation to do something like this in 2:35 aspect ratio, and instead went with a 2:1 frame because it felt more immersive and takes far better advantage of the towering trees.”
For horror fans looking for similar films, Bruckner reveals several that influenced The Ritual:
“There were some obvious reference points: Deliverance, Wicker Man, and The Descent, but also a bit of [Ben] Wheatley (Kill List, A Field in England). I looked at Greengrass (United 93, Captain Phillips) and Herzog (Aguirre Wrath of God, Rescue Dawn) for performance style. Also Predator, Spielberg’s War of the Worlds, The Grey, and anything I could find shot in a forest. Of course, some of it aids in brainstorming how you’re going to use the camera, but then you get out in the freezing woods and you realize you have to find quicker ways to work anyway. I think there’s something to be said about eventually forgetting your influences and just visualizing the film from your gut.”
For those looking for gore, The Ritual is more about atmosphere and dread:
“I’ve made far bloodier movies! Usually, I love going there, but I’m actually quite sensitive to how violence is employed,” he explained. “It can amplify some disgusting human behavior, or shock something familiar into a state of panic; as long as it contributes to the story in some way. There was something about The Ritual, perhaps the earnestness of the characters, or the familiarity of the conceit, that it just felt indulgent to go too far with the gore.
“The movie is really more about a sense of atmosphere, a lurking dread and surreal head-trip as opposed to buckets of overt horror and revulsion.”
The Ritual truly is the kitchen sink of horror films. Bruckner speaks to the difficulty of pulling off many genres in one movie.
“Usually, I would caution taking on a project that featured so many classic horror tropes. But there was something about reading Adam’s novel that felt completely fresh to me. The characters were extremely real, and the situation they found themselves in felt fluid and had the quality of an ever-descending fever dream. The book simply convinces you to go on that ride. Like you’re experiencing great horror for the first time.
“We knew in a movie those different sub-genres would stand out a bit more and some of our choices, not all, but some, were a bit more conventional than the book,” he continues. “No matter how well you dress it up, it’s still, literally, a “shortcut through woods” movie. And horror fans are razor sharp, they don’t miss a thing. So I’d say one of the biggest challenges with this was figuring out how to modulate the right amount of self-awareness. I definitely didn’t want to do any campy overly postmodern stuff, but I often tried to land a faint, almost imperceptible wink to the audience. As if to say, ‘Yes this is a horror film and yes these are well-traveled tropes, we’re not going to stand above them but we know what we’re wielding.’ And beyond that, fuck it, I want to believe this is happening. It’s just more fun for me that way.
“I should say too, that the choice was made early on to always approach the performances in earnest, not to overly stylize them or bend them to fit whatever movie tropes the story might take on. We had an amazing cast that was committed to this approach from the beginning. The characters aren’t stupid, they know what’s happening to them is insane and yet it’s still happening. It’s a blast to run with that and never get too far above it.”
The Ritual is now streaming on Netflix everywhere.
Of all the places to find a coven of witches, the attic above a Christian youth camp is probably the last place you’d think to look. But that’s just what we find in Camp, a surrealist nightmare of feminist empowerment from Canadian filmmaker Avalon Fast.
Emily (Zola Grimmer) is still reckoning with her involvement in a horrific tragedy when she accidentally contributes to the death of her best friend, Charlie (Giselle Morison). Unable to move on, the traumatized teen takes a job at a rural summer camp, hoping to forget her own sorrows by looking after at-risk kids. She quickly connects with a counselor named Clara (Alice Wordsworth) and finds comfort in her close-knit group of female friends. But a mysterious whisper from deep in the woods warns that they may be leading her down a darker path.
Fast burst onto the scene in 2022 with Honeycomb, a psychological horror film that follows a burgeoning matriarchy. Known for their focus on “Girl Horror” stories, the talented young filmmaker tackles similar themes in Camp as Emily leaves the modern world behind to embrace a dark vision of self-discovery through magic.
Ahead of the film’s U.S. release on June 26, Bloody Disgusting sat down with Fast to chat about the nebulous nature of good vs. evil and the intoxicating power of female-driven horror.
Bloody Disgusting: What inspired this unique story? Did you go to religious summer camps when you were young?
Avalon Fast: I did. I went to lots of different summer camps, but all of them were primarily Bible camps. The memory I have of camp is kind of strange. I was very homesick as a kid, and I didn’t necessarily enjoy all my time there. I definitely remember meeting some interesting girls at camp and having that presence of religion hovering around the whole experience.
BD: I really love the film’s gorgeous natural setting. Camp is the kind of surrealist nightmare that you don’t just watch. You feel it too. How did you approach creating this world?
AF: Well, a huge part of it was working with my cinematographer Eily Sprungman, who’s a very close friend. We spent years prepping, shot listing, storyboarding, and mood boarding. She’d had a similar experience to mine. We grew up around the same place, and so we understood each other’s visions from the get-go. But there are so many other pieces that came together. The costuming, the art, and the animated sequences were done by Sofiya Iurkevych. One of our producers, Taylor Nodrick, was obsessed with shooting on Super 8 film. I’ve always wanted to as well, so all the memory sequences were shot on Super 8. It was just a lot of people with an understanding and a vision for what this project was. I’m really happy with the way it turned out.
To the extent that you’re comfortable sharing, what’s your relationship to witchcraft, and what does Camp have to say about modern witches?
Well, that’s the question of Camp. It’s not that I don’t resonate with any of these things, but I specifically wanted Camp to be a little bit ambiguous around what witchcraft looks like. Is this witchcraft? Are these girls witches? Emily explicitly asks if that’s what’s happening here, and the answer isn’t yes. The film isn’t going to answer that question for you. My relationship to magic and witchcraft? It’s tough. I feel like there’s so much magic, connection, and spirituality that comes from these friendships, the closeness of these women, and what’s happening around them. A lot of what Camp is trying to say or show is just that magic can come out of friendship.
I loved watching these female friendships develop. And you’re right. No one ever says the word “coven,” but you can feel that connection, and you can see a change in Emily as those relationships grow. I’m also really fascinated with the way Camp plays with the idea of good and evil. At one point, Clara says, “Maybe God drew us to the devil,” which stopped me in my tracks. How do you view witchcraft or the magic these girls are experiencing in regard to good and evil?
That was such a huge part of the script’s construction. The story is really trying to keep a balance between those two things. I like asking people if they think these girls are good or bad, because I feel like a lot of people come out of the film thinking one or the other. They’ll say things like “thank God Emily found her people” or “God, I really wish she’d gone home.” I just don’t think there’s ever an answer. I wanted to explore the idea of going down the wrong path, especially coming out of grief. What makes you a bad person, and does healing mean you’re looking to become a better person? I don’t have an answer, but I do feel like that’s a huge part of what Camp is asking. What is good? What is bad? Why did God bring me to the devil?
Yes, because this is all happening at “God camp” in Emily’s words. So how can both of those things exist at the same time? Along those lines, I’m also fascinated by the voice Emily hears in the woods. Without spoiling too much, what is this voice asking, and what is required in return?
Emily comes to camp with a shout into the void, asking can anyone hear me? Does anyone want to? And it’s answered so clearly by these girls, specifically responding only with love, care, support, and trust. It’s like her prayers were answered. It doesn’t mean that everything is going to be alright, but Emily is looking for peace. She’s looking for a moment where she feels pure good. And I think, even at its surface level, she does get that experience.
Personally, I don’t really think people are good or bad. I think we all exist somewhere in the middle. Camp centers traditionally villainized characters, but that’s where Emily seems to find her peace, however you choose to define it.
I also wanted to show the experience of having decided that you are a bad person, you’ve made mistakes, and you feel cursed. Then when you meet other people who have done things that you would consider worse, you can actually feel good in their presence. You feel like less of a bad person. I think that’s a huge part of the story as well. Emily’s finding her version of other fucked up people, and she feels less fucked up around them. I’ve found that in my own life. It’s a cool thing. I don’t think it’s bad.
I don’t think it’s bad either. It’s finding your home, your people. We meet Emily in the aftermath of unthinkable trauma. Is this a story about mental health and healing?
Witnessing it myself. witnessing other people experience tragedy and then move through grief, you hear a lot of talk about healing or coming out the other side. There’s so much conversation around what that looks like, with self-care and showing up for yourself. I always felt really averse to it. It annoyed me. I think the beginning of the film speaks to that. The therapeutic version of what getting help looks like is obviously very different from what Camp is showing. And again, I don’t have an answer for what you’re supposed to do. But I think that’s another question I was asking: how do you heal? Do you heal at all? Is that the end goal, or are we just trying to get better? It’s something I experienced in my own grief. And the answer, for me, at least now, is just that I’m not looking to get better. So I felt like I hadn’t. I found it hard to find people to have those conversations with. And I think that’s what I ultimately wanted to make a film about.
I love that unanswered question. In my own experience, I’ve had to reframe what healing actually looks like. There’s not really an endpoint. It’s just finding a way to keep going. There’s also an element of sacrifice in this story, particularly regarding another counselor named Jo (Sophie Bawks-Smith). What role does she play in Emily’s journey?
For me, Jo is this human embodiment of Charlie, Emily’s friend. As Jo, she had a life at this camp before meeting Emily, and then was kind of taken over by Charlie’s spirit. I think a lot of people view Emily’s final choice as horrendous and tragic. In a way it is, but for me, if Jo becomes her angel, it’s almost like a self-sacrifice. Jo knows that by sacrificing herself, she’ll be giving Emily power to move forward. In the original script, the girls were supposed to bring out another counselor, JB (Aidan Laudersmith), and burn his body. But I just thought, there’s no way sacrificing this guy could give the girls enough power. There’s just no way, right? Logically, that just didn’t line up for me.
I’m glad you mentioned JB, because he has his own tragic arc. How do men factor into the world of Camp?
The way men factor into my world is so bizarre. I have such little respect for them in my films, which is something I’ve been called on. I think I have to challenge myself in the future to make a movie about a boy because, these boys … It’s not that the men in my films aren’t redeemable, but there’s no depth to these characters. They’re just treated with such disrespect. I don’t know why I do that, actually. That’s something for me to look into. It was the same with Honeycomb. They’re just such peripheral characters. I’ve had people ask about Kayne (Henri Gillespi), the scary guy at the fire, what happens to him? I just think, I don’t know. I don’t care. That’s not the point of the story.
Well, I can say after a lifetime of watching women on the periphery of the story, the course correction feels nice. In a similar vein, I’m in love with your homepage, avalonfast.com. There’s an image of girls on a film set and then a still from Honeycomb in which a blood-covered girl is screaming at the sky. And in the middle, it just says Girl Horror. It’s a really powerful statement that gives me chills. How do you define Girl Horror, and what draws you to these types of stories?
I was obsessed with the term when I started making my movies. It was something I’d come up with to kind of brand myself and describe what I was doing. Then I went through a period where I felt like it was a bit gender exclusive and didn’t interest me as much. But now I’ve come full circle on the term. I think it’s a bit of a commentary on youth and the horror of growing up female. But I think everybody can relate to that experience. I don’t want it to feel like this exclusive thing, that I make movies exclusively for girls, because I don’t think I do. I’m interested in exploring what Girl Horror means. Originally, it was just a title, something I came up with, and now it’s become something that resonates with people. You said it gave you chills. That’s cool for me to hear because there’s obviously some depth there.
Are you working on anything new?
Yes. I am actually making a movie about a boy. That’s the next thing.
That’s exciting! The more I think about feminism, the more I end up coming back to men and boys, because they have a place in the world of Girl Horror too.
Absolutely. It’s all just part of being human.
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