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The King Tide Grimly Though Insufficiently Develops a Cult

There is a uniquely ancient atmosphere to Newfoundland unlike anywhere else in Canada. Perhaps it is the imprint left on the land by the Norse or the Celtic heritage of a lot of its settlers embedding itself, or else its particular isolation from the rest of the country, but there is the touch of an old pagan influence that doesn’t extend much further west. And I think storytellers from Newfoundland have picked up on that, even when as in this case they are reluctant to equate it with that part of the country openly. The King Tide never alleges it is set in Newfoundland -the characters make no provincial reference and more importantly have no accent. But it is obviously shot there and the character of the whole story is so informed by this influence that it really couldn’t take place anywhere else in Canada.
The movie is also directed by proud Newfoundlander Christian Sparkes (who is such an islander his next movie is an adaptation of Michael Crummey). The King Tide is not an adaptation, though it really feels like one given the great fidelity to the detail of its story and characters above any other quality of the movie -many of whom, though not multi-dimensional here, seem to suggest more expansive roles in another medium. In some ways that is a credit to both the script and the performances, that there is more beneath the surface than the movie lets on. Though it does come with its drawbacks.
The story of The King Tide is the story of how a cult develops. On a secluded island off the coast of an ‘ambiguous’ mainland a boat washes ashore in the aftermath of a storm where a baby is found -a baby who it is discovered has a supernatural aura. Anyone near the child is cured of their ailments and she has the ability to bring them good fortune through drawing fish into the bay. She is named Isla and raised by the community’s mayor Bobby (Clayne Crawford) and his wife Grace (Lara Jean Chorostecki). Over the next ten years, Isla’s “gift” allows the community to live a prosperous Luddite lifestyle in complete isolation from the outside world, herself the subject of all worship and fealty, until her powers seemingly start to fade.
Sparkes and his writers adopt the adult perspective through all of this, Isla (Alix West Lefler) drawn as both this mystifying foreign force and a regular human child with a curiosity for stories, a love for toys -with which she is excessively spoiled. She essentially lives in her own shrine where every day she greets the people who come to venerate her and request something of her -whether to heal a minor ailment or give them some sort of blessing. And nobody in the community is much phased by this, barring the occasional disgruntlement of the now out-of-work doctor Beau (Aden Young) -seemingly the only person in some way disturbed by the sycophantic behaviour of the villagers. But the moment of reckoning comes when a careless child eats some poisonous weed while Isla is out with the fishers, and dies -while she with no point of reference for death is unable to bring him back. Subsequent scarrings for both of her parents indicates further that her powers have receded. And with this the community is plagued by the fear that their way of life will have to change -they are mortal again and can no longer afford their seclusion. Yet some, chiefly Grace’s mother Faye (Frances Fisher) -who previously had Alzheimers- maintains blind faith and a willingness to do whatever it takes, even the unethical, to keep benefiting from Isla’s gift.
That exploitation is Sparkes's chief point, and it is a compelling one -this kid who they all claim to love but for purely self-serving reasons. It is also a look at just what people are capable of morally quantifying to maintain the status quo, inconsiderate of both the psychological repercussions on Isla and of her autonomy itself. Many, including those closest to her, are completely unable to see her as an ordinary child -because they have elevated her to the extraordinary. And it is chilling to see just how alienating their attitude towards her is -especially given Sparkes's casting of very ordinary-seeming actors. There's something of Shirley Jackson's “The Lottery” to it all.
And yet what's missing is Isla's perspective itself. Outside of a couple inconsequential beats, the movie isn't nearly as interested in Isla as its characters are. They are the focus of scrutiny and of grim social commentary -she is merely the subject. The only hints to her feelings on being this Messianic figure, this object, are fleeting. The choice by Sparkes and his writers to hone in only on how Isla's changing circumstances affects the adult villagers does allow for darker impressions to be cast on cult mentality and isolationism (Bobby has an extremely strict rule against anyone ever leaving the island), but there is a degree to which Isla's real powers delineate the metaphor and the lack of any closeness to her only buffets the people's own devotion. She is a figurehead, a symbol more than a character, even as the plot grows to hinge on her liberation.
But in spite of making her mostly a prop, Sparkes is quite effective at building a sense of tension and claustrophobia. The Wicker Man is a fairly obvious influence, but its particular sense of inescapability is captured sharply as even Bobby starts to see a way off the island as the only means of saving Isla from a people just a step or two away from putting her in a coma. The barrenness and darkness of the island is constantly emphasized, as are the antiquated aesthetics and attitudes of the townsfolk. It's that old world atmosphere in the land, that makes the unknowable magic of Isla resonate believably. These things too contribute to the overarching sense of dread. And while Isla may not be characterized in such a way that you care, the constraints are felt on Bobby and Beau, avatars for everybody who's ever sought freedom from a cult.
The tension reaches its boiling point in the last stretch of the movie where the commune's way of life is most directly threatened, leading to an attempt to finally paint Isla blatantly as just an innocent girl suppressed by the adults around her. The ultimate ramification of this and of the subjective disinterest the movie had in her as a person up until then is a cheaply grim and unsatisfying finale, eschewing resolution for an easy solution to the problem of this village.
Sparkes sets a mood very well, and he knows how best to use the contours of his homeland for the purposes of folk horror -to which Newfoundland seems naturally inclined. This really benefits The King Tide about half of the time, a legitimately eerie and effectively gripping thriller. But in missing a glaring opportunity to dive into Isla herself as a character, rather than a mere device, the film forsakes some real thematic potency that renders the ending a touch arbitrary and more than a touch lazy. A solid idea and technically adept execution that I wish had developed into something more exceptional in substance.

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