The most satisfying cinema respects the viewer's intelligence and invites them to play an active part in the meaning of the film. The greatest films reward repeated viewings and have universal truths contained within their themes and meaning(s). However, reading some of the reviews of "A Field in England" on IMDb many "reviewers" seem to need all films to adopt the clichéd narrative and formulaic approach of standard Hollywood moron fodder. As a result they have labelled this film as being "self-indulgent", "pretentious", "empty" etc. But perhaps it's the reviewers themselves who do not have an adequate cultural, historical or philosophical knowledge to appreciate the many layers contained in the film and perhaps they don't have the grasp of cinematic language and grammar to understand intelligent cinema? Essentially is it really fair to blame Ben Wheatley for the fact that you are a bit stupid? I didn't find the film pretentious at all. As for the "the meaning of the film", to me this was a metaphor for the failure of the modern day class struggle and the easy triumph of liberal capitalism over working class indifference. O'Neil's alchemy is the 17th century equivalent of the contemporary City/Financial sector – both built on nothing but smoke and mirrors. I think Civil War England was chosen because that was probably the last opportunity that the country had to build a fairer society and the period when the last major challenge to the political orthodoxy was mounted. But the radicals, such as the Diggers and the Levellers, were easily crushed and instead the "revolution" was one that saw the rise of the merchant upper middle class. The digging for treasures in the field demanded by O'Neil is the labour of the poor to make the rich even richer. Was the strange tug of war scene the collective failure of the ordinary men to overcome O'Neil or O'Neil being dragged from the bowels of the earth and carried across the field by the efforts of the men? Ultimately, despite the cries of "I'm my own man" that echo throughout the film, the men are seduced by hallucinogenic mushrooms and the promise of ale at the tavern. They are coerced by threats, violence and the horrors that occur to Whitehead in the tent to a state of total compliance and complicity in their own downfall.
The cinematography by Laurie Rose inventively utilises the limited setting of the field itself to deliver a variety of moods ranging from an innocent golden beauty to mist laden magic hour shimmers through to claustrophobic dread. In a film of many moods, I am surprised that no one has remarked upon how funny Amy Jump's dialogue is at times, much of the humour being earthy enough to challenge any "pretentious" tag. Michael Smiley as O'Neil is a truly sinister screen presence; Reece Shearsmith shifting from obsequious slave to hollow triumphalist, is a chameleon like presence as the mysterious agent of the fable. Richard Ferdinando, unrecognisable from his brilliant performance in "Tony ", is excellent as the everyman character who serves as the eyes of the audience.
Once again Wheatley utilises genre conventions in a fascinating way and delivers a whole that is much more complex and rewarding than the "Witchfinder General on magic mushrooms" reputation that lazy reviewers have applied to this film. What we have is a historical political metaphor that challenges the indifference and compliance of the contemporary working class wrapped up in a hybrid genre horror film that includes humour, magic, good and evil, mystery and some trademark moments of shuddering viscera.
Wheatley is a film maker to watch - perhaps eventually becoming, in his own unique way, England's answer to the equally misunderstood Lars Von Trier? – and in the meantime this remains a rich, strange and evocative film that I will be returning to on many occasions in the future.
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