A college student purloins a gold locket from inside a collapsed fire tower. This theft summons its owner, the mysterious “Johnny” (Ry Barrett), who crawls out of his grave and embarks on a slow, unstoppable killing spree of the thieving students and all of their friends. For viewers of any number of 1980s slasher films – the Friday the 13th series in particular – it is a familiar set-up. In the case of In a Violent Nature it is not the story that matters but the execution. Almost the entire movie is told from Johnny’s point of view.

If we are to be honest, slasher films were always inclined in this direction. They were always prone to forming long-running, broadly repetitive franchises in which the common element from film to film was their antagonist. Audiences built up a perverse affection for these characters, whether Jason Voorhees in Friday the 13th, Michael Myers in Halloween, or even Art the Clown in the more recent Terrifier films. Their victims were more often than not portrayed as venal or superficial, and prone to moral turpitude. The viewer was actively encouraged to applaud their deaths, preferably in as violent and complicated a fashion as possible. In a Violent Nature owes its largest debt to the Friday the 13th sequels, films made irresistibly funny once the viewer imagined them as the saga of a middle-aged recluse driven to paroxysmic rage by teenagers taking drugs and fucking on his front lawn.

This new Canadian film, which is written and directed by Chris Nash, takes the subtext and foregrounds it as text. Johnny is not antagonist but protagonist. We follow his slow, purposeful march through the woods from one brutal murder to another.

Nash’s film strips out anything unnecessary from the slasher film formula. It does not waste time building weak characters who only exist to be fodder for the villain. Instead we only really encounter the characters to see Johnny kill and mutilate them. Johnny’s rampage plays out entirely without non-diegetic music as well. The soundtrack of the film consists of violent wet blows, panicky screams, and most consistently the regular, heavy beats of Johnny’s feet marching endlessly through the woods. The sound design is hypnotic. Its ultimate effect is absurdity.

If you are a fan of slasher films, or violent horror more broadly, In a Violent Nature can be a howlingly funny experience. When Nash wants to play things gorily the film becomes elaborate to the point of grand guignol. When he wants to play them more chastely, the murders can come and go surprisingly fast. This is a hugely cine-literate work, made with a palpable love for the genre and actively rewarding the viewer for interacting with the action the way they always have done.

It is worth appreciating the sensational way that the film has been visually composed. Nash and cinematographer Pierce Derks work with an old-fashioned Academy ratio (that is, 4:3) that reflects the look of old slasher films on VHS tape. At the same time the picture is remarkably crisp and colourful. Occasional moments of natural beauty act like a punctum on the violence. They feel thoughtful, and almost zen-like. This is very possibly the most aesthetically attractive slasher film ever made.

As viewers we have a tendency to overlook performances in slasher films. It is worth noting Ry Barrett’s informed, deliberate, and unexpectedly sensitive performance as Johnny. It is expected that he would give his character weight, strength, and inevitability. It is a surprise to see the additional layers of deliberation, thought, and humanity. An ensemble of performers play his victims, including Andrea Pavlovic, Cameron Love, Liam Leone, and Sam Roulston, with a canny sense of what is required and what archetypes to play.

If you are not drawn to the cathartic thrills of the slasher film, then it is unlikely that In a Violent Nature will appeal. If the genre is one of your favourites, and you can embrace a sense of nostalgia, absurdity, and violent excess, then it just may be your favourite horror film of the year.