Evolution

And the creepiest film of the year goes to… this eerie body horror.

Ten-year-old Nicolas (Brebant) spends his days swimming in the sea and scurrying through the village streets of his volcanic island home, an island inhabited solely by similar-aged boys and blank-faced women. When Nicolas sees a dead boy wedged between the rocks, a red starfish sitting on his belly, he races home to tell his mother (Paramentier). But she doesn't believe this nonsense and forces him take his medicine (an icky black substance) and eat his dinner (a disgusting gruel/seafood concoction). Hmm. Something’s not right here. But wait – there's more.

Nicolas and some other boys sneak out of their homes at night and follow their mothers down to the rocky beach to witness them writhe and contort in some strange sexual ritual. What the hell? Before they can figure it out, all the boys are hospitalised and strange experiments conducted on their bodies. Just what jiggery poo is going on?

Where are all the men? What are the women up to? What is the medicine and that food? What are they doing to the boys? Where is this? When is this? Director Lucile Hadzihalilovic (following up the strange Innocence) certainly isn't in a rush to show her hand, keeping the mystery going; even when the reveal comes more questions are raised. Hadzihalilovic (who also wrote her husband Gasper Noe's Enter The Void) is not only sparse with the plot details but everything else too - the use of dialogue is minimal and the sets (Nicolas's bedroom has only a bed and chair) boast only token dressing.

And yet despite the bleakness Evolution remains beautiful (cinematographer Manuel Dacosse's underwater scenes are pretty) and the narrative, while elusive, never frustrates. In the place of answers are buckets of mood and atmosphere to slosh around in. Largely devoid of soundtrack, the unnerving tone is similar to horror yet there's never a scene that can be held up in evidence of such. The hospital, with its dank, windowless rooms, strap gurneys, black sheets on the mattresses, and basic surgical tools is meant to bring to mind the terrors of a 19th century asylum, Nicolas’s finger receives basic stitching without aesthetic, and there are other strange goings on, but the only blood on show is the occasional nosebleeds the boys suffer.

Best not say too much. Best say go see it.