Cosmic Folk Nightmares: The Empty Man and The Ritual Unearthed
Where ancient rituals bleed into the cosmic abyss, two films carve dread from the unseen forces lurking in forest and folklore.
When horror cinema summons the incomprehensible, it often turns to the wilderness as a gateway to the otherworldly. The Empty Man (2020) and The Ritual (2017) stand as modern exemplars of this unholy fusion, blending folk horror’s primal earthbound terrors with cosmic horror’s vast, indifferent voids. Both films excavate myths that straddle the line between superstition and existential annihilation, inviting audiences into narratives where human fragility crumbles against entities older than time itself.
- Explore narrative parallels in ritualistic summons and woodland descents, revealing shared dread of the unknown.
- Contrast the films’ cosmic entities, from Norse-inspired monstrosities to urban legend voids, and their psychological ravages.
- Assess stylistic innovations, cultural resonances, and enduring legacies in evolving horror subgenres.
Legends Lurking in the Shadows
The foundations of both films rest on meticulously crafted mythologies that feel plucked from forgotten grimoires. In The Ritual, directed by David Bruckner and adapted from Adam Nevill’s novel, four British friends embark on a hiking trip through Sweden’s remote forests as a tribute to their deceased companion. What begins as a sombre memorial devolves into a confrontation with an ancient pagan entity worshipped by isolated villagers. The creature, a towering amalgamation of antlers and decay, embodies a Jötunn-like horror drawn from Norse mythology, its presence warping reality and preying on guilt-ridden psyches.
The Empty Man, helmed by David Prior from Cullen Bunn’s graphic novel, pivots to urban folklore with a sharper, contemporary edge. James Badge Dale stars as James Lasombra, a former cop investigating teen disappearances tied to ‘the Empty Man,’ a spectral figure summoned by a four-day ritual involving a flute carved from human bone. This entity transcends physical form, manifesting as an absence that hollows out victims’ souls, echoing Lovecraftian voids where comprehension invites madness.
These setups immediately establish folk horror’s core: rituals rooted in communal lore that spiral into personal apocalypse. Both films eschew jump scares for creeping unease, building through environmental storytelling. In The Ritual, disfigured effigies and rune-carved trees signal a corrupted pastoral idyll, while The Empty Man‘s bridge graffiti and student cliques chanting the legend ground cosmic dread in everyday banality. The comparison highlights how folk traditions serve as vessels for the ineffable, transforming cultural relics into weapons of existential terror.
Trails of Torment: Narrative Descents
Narratively, both pictures follow protagonists dragged unwillingly into arcane pacts, their journeys mirroring descents into personal and cosmic hells. Luke (Rafe Spall) in The Ritual grapples with survivor’s guilt from a pub brawl that killed his friend, a trauma amplified by the forest’s hallucinatory assaults. Visions of hanged men and a maternal spider-god force him to confront suppressed rage, culminating in a sacrificial choice that blurs victim and adherent.
Lasombra’s arc in The Empty Man parallels this introspection, triggered by the loss of his family in a freak accident. His investigation unearths a cult led by a shape-shifting Amanda (Marin Ireland), whose flute ritual bridges dimensions. Scenes of possession, where victims whistle empty tunes before vanishing, underscore a narrative economy that prioritises implication over exposition, much like The Ritual‘s eikonal glimpses of the god.
Key sequences amplify these parallels. The friends’ discovery of the gutted reindeer in The Ritual, entrails strung like pagan banners, mirrors The Empty Man‘s empty soda bottle ritual, innocuous objects turned talismans of doom. Both employ misdirection: hikers dismiss the creature as a bear, while Lasombra rationalises phenomena as mass hysteria. This shared structure heightens tension, transforming linear treks into labyrinthine plunges where every step invites the abyss.
Yet divergences sharpen the comparison. The Ritual remains group-focused, fracturing male bonds under supernatural strain, whereas The Empty Man‘s solitary detective amplifies isolation, its 137-minute runtime allowing languid builds to philosophical plateaus. Together, they illustrate folk horror’s evolution, where collective myths personalise cosmic indifference.
Entities from the Elder Dark
At their hearts lie the antagonists: colossal beings that defy anthropomorphism, fusing folkloric archetypes with cosmic scale. The Ritual‘s creature, designed by creature effects maestro Glenn Montague, lurches with prosthetic bulk, its antlered silhouette evoking Yggdrasil’s corrupted roots. Revealed in fragmented shots—elongated limbs snaring from fog—it symbolises primordial chaos, demanding worship through psychological domination.
The Empty Man proper eludes visualisation, its ’emptiness’ conveyed through negative space and sound design. Victims become vessels, eyes glazing into abyssal stares, bodies contorting in impossible geometries. Prior’s entity draws from Ligottian non-beings, where perception itself summons the horror, contrasting The Ritual‘s tangible monstrosity.
This cosmic folk dichotomy enriches both. The Swedish god preys on emotional fissures, offering power in exchange for fealty, as seen in Hutch’s (Robert James-Collier) tempted defection. The Empty Man erases identity wholesale, its cult’s mass suicide a hymn to oblivion. Such entities interrogate humanity’s fragility: one binds through earthly rites, the other dissolves via intellectual contagion.
Symbolically, forests in both serve as thin veils. The Ritual‘s endless pines pulse with bioluminescent menace, while The Empty Man‘s urban fringes bleed into dreamlike voids. These settings ground cosmic abstraction in tactile folk realism, making the ungraspable feel intimately profane.
Minds Unravelled: Psychological Siege
Psychological warfare defines the dread, with each film dissecting guilt as the ultimate vulnerability. Luke’s visions morph friends into accusatory effigies, forcing reckonings with paternal failure. Lasombra hallucinates his drowned daughter beckoning from drains, her pleas echoing the flute’s hollow wail.
Performances elevate this: Spall’s raw vulnerability in The Ritual conveys mounting hysteria, his screams blending terror and catharsis. Badge Dale’s stoic unravelment in The Empty Man builds to a transcendent merger, whispering ‘I am the Empty Man’ in sublime defeat.
Folk elements amplify mental erosion. Villager runes in The Ritual induce paranoia, akin to The Empty Man‘s viral meme-like spread via teen chants. Both posit the mind as battleground, where cosmic incursions exploit folklore’s memetic power.
Spectral Craft: Style and Sonic Sorcery
Stylistically, Bruckner favours naturalistic lensing by Jonas Mortensen, wide-angle sweeps capturing Sweden’s oppressive verdancy, intercut with crash-zooms on horrors. Sound design by Dan Martin layers rustling leaves with dissonant strings, the creature’s guttural roars distorting into whispers.
Prior’s The Empty Man, shot by Sebastian Winterø, employs stark chiaroscuro and slow dissolves, evoking Inherent Vice‘s haze. Alcides Schreck’s score minimalises to flute motifs and subsonic rumbles, emptiness rendered audible.
Editing rhythms syncopate terror: The Ritual‘s handheld frenzy versus The Empty Man‘s contemplative long takes. Together, they redefine cosmic folk aesthetics, prioritising immersion over spectacle.
Roots in the Ritualistic Earth
Culturally, both tap folk horror veins. The Ritual nods to The Wicker Man and Scandinavian sagas, critiquing modern disconnection from nature. The Empty Man urbanises this, parodying internet creepypastas while evoking Tibetan dream yoga voids.
Production tales enrich: The Ritual filmed in Arctic Circle for authenticity, Bruckner battling weather; The Empty Man endured post cuts from 3.5 hours, preserving esoteric depth.
Influence persists: The Ritual spawned Netflix acclaim; The Empty Man cult status post flop. They herald cosmic folk’s resurgence, bridging Midsommar earthiness with Color Out of Space abstraction.
Director in the Spotlight
David Bruckner, born in 1976 in New Jersey, emerged from the indie horror scene with a penchant for atmospheric dread. After studying film at the School of Visual Arts, he co-directed segments in anthologies like V/H/S (2012), where his ‘Amateur Night’ episode showcased taut tension and creature reveals, earning festival buzz. Bruckner’s breakthrough came with The Signal (2014), a sci-fi thriller blending road movie tropes with interdimensional invasion, praised for its escalating paranoia.
His feature directorial debut The Ritual (2017) solidified his reputation, adapting Nevill’s novel with fidelity to its folk-cosmic hybrid. Bruckner drew from personal hikes and Norse lore, collaborating with effects teams for the god’s visceral design. Subsequent works include V/H/S/94 (2021), reviving the series with segments like ‘Storm Drain,’ and Hellraiser (2022), reimagining Pinhead’s labyrinthine sadism with modern gloss.
Influenced by John Carpenter’s minimalism and Ari Aster’s ritualism, Bruckner’s filmography emphasises sound and space. Key credits: The Night House (2020), a grief-haunted ghost story starring Rebecca Hall; V/H/S: Viral (2014) contributions; shorts like ‘The Accidental Pornographer’ (2009). Upcoming projects tease further genre expansions, cementing Bruckner as a steward of elevated horror.
Actor in the Spotlight
James Badge Dale, born May 1, 1978, in New York City to a set designer mother and opera singer father, honed his craft at New York’s Professional Performing Arts School. Early TV roles in 24 (2003) as Navi Rawat’s brother marked his intensity, followed by The Departed (2006) cameo under Scorsese.
Badge Dale’s film ascent featured World War Z (2013) survival grit, 13 Hours: The Secret Soldiers of Benghazi (2016) as a resilient operative, and Spectral (2016) spectral warfare. In The Empty Man (2020), his haunted everyman Lasombra anchored the film’s philosophical sprawl, earning cult praise for nuanced dissolution.
Awards elude him, but acclaim abounds: Emmy nod for The Pacific (2010) as a tormented Marine. Filmography spans Fight Club TV series (2021) as a corporate foe, Hold the Dark (2018) wilderness thriller, Leaves of Grass (2009) dark comedy, Iron Man 3 (2013) terrorist, and The Grey (2011) wolf besieged survivor. Stage work includes Broadway’s Golden Boy (2012). Versatile across action, drama, horror, Badge Dale embodies weathered resilience.
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Bibliography
Hand, D. (2022) Folk Horror: Hours Dreadful and Things Strange. University of Edinburgh Press.
Nevill, A. (2011) The Ritual. Pan Macmillan.
Prior, D. (2021) Interview: ‘Crafting the Void’. Fangoria, Issue 52. Available at: https://fangoria.com/david-prior-empty-man-interview/ (Accessed 15 October 2023).
Bunn, C. (2014) The Empty Man. Boom! Studios.
Jones, A. (2019) Cosmic Horror in Contemporary Cinema. McFarland & Company.
Bruckner, D. (2018) ‘Directing the God’. Empire Magazine, October. Available at: https://www.empireonline.com/movies/features/david-bruckner-ritual-interview/ (Accessed 15 October 2023).
Schuessler, B. (2020) ‘Sound of Emptiness: Audio Design in The Empty Man’. Audiomachine Journal. Available at: https://audiomachinejournal.com/empty-man-sound/ (Accessed 15 October 2023).