Ah, Flora (2017), a film that undoubtedly sets out to do something different – or at least, I think it does. Maybe it tries to be an introspective, philosophical look at mankind’s fragile relationship with nature, but instead, it leaves you wondering if anyone actually told the director what kind of film they were making. What we have here is an attempt at blending science fiction, historical drama, and thriller elements. But the only thing truly thrilling is how quickly it will make you reconsider your decision to watch this film in the first place.
Sasha Louis Vukovic’s directorial debut is an ambitious one. The film follows a group of 1920s-era university students on a botany expedition to an uncharted forest, where they encounter an unknown pathogen that turns people into plant-infected zombies – because why not? After all, if you’re going to make a film about plant life and pathogens, you might as well make it as convoluted as possible. The premise sounds like it could have been a gripping, atmospheric survival tale. Instead, it’s more of a “let’s take a nap” kind of movie. If you’re looking for excitement, Flora will probably make you want to chuck your TV out of the window just to feel something.
The Plot: A Tedious Walk Through The Woods
In theory, the plot of Flora sounds like a suspense-filled journey into madness and infection. A group of students gets stuck in the wilderness, a deadly pathogen is running rampant, and they must survive. Sounds great, right? Well, what’s the actual experience like? Picture this: a bunch of students wandering around in a forest, looking at plants for far too long, occasionally discussing some half-baked scientific theory about endophytes, and then falling ill one by one. If you’re lucky, you might catch a glimpse of the professor wearing a gas mask (because, apparently, that’s the only costume choice they had left). But ultimately, you’ll spend an hour and a half watching the students really struggling to figure out what’s happening. Meanwhile, the only real “thrills” come from watching the characters slowly realize they’re in way over their heads.
Sure, there’s some tension—if you count the forced attempts to inject any semblance of urgency into a film that moves slower than the pathogen spreading through their systems. I mean, who doesn’t love a good trek through a forest where nothing happens? Oh, and don’t even get me started on the profound nature of the dialogue, where someone says things like, “We must find the truth,” or “The plants are our only hope!” Honestly, if I had a dollar for every time this film made me wonder, “Why am I here?” I’d be able to buy a much more entertaining movie.
The Characters: A Deadly Cocktail of Boredom and Blandness
You’d think that when a group of people is slowly succumbing to a plant-based pathogen, there’d be some kind of emotional arc, right? Wrong. The characters in Flora are about as exciting as a decaying log. Take the protagonist, Matsudaira Basho (because nothing screams excitement like a name like that). This guy is supposed to be the one who holds the group together and keeps the story moving forward with his knowledge of botany, but all he really does is speak in vague riddles about plants and infection. The rest of the cast follows suit with equally lifeless performances. There’s no emotional depth or stakes in sight, which makes it hard to care when any of them inevitably bite the dust.
At least Matsudaira gets to have a little fun with some scientific mumbo-jumbo, but by the end of the film, you’ll find yourself wishing that instead of using the film’s runtime to explore the mystical plant world, we could’ve explored some actual character development. Instead, we’re left with a group of people who seem to only exist to serve as ticking time bombs for the infection to spread through.
And don’t even get me started on the one character who survives the whole ordeal. Let’s just say their final walk into the railway station feels less like a triumphant survival and more like the “get me out of here” walk of a person who’s just happy the credits are about to roll.
The Cinematography: A Plant’s Eye View
The film’s cinematography does its best to make the most out of a tight budget. You’ll be treated to sweeping shots of the forest that, to be fair, do have a certain eerie quality about them. But here’s the thing: after the third shot of trees swaying in the wind or overly dramatic close-ups of moss, you start to realize that the entire film feels like it was shot by someone with a serious addiction to nature documentaries. It’s almost as if the cinematographer was obsessed with making everything look as green as possible, and there’s nothing wrong with that—except, well, the plot itself doesn’t live up to the “nature’s beauty” theme the film tries to push. The trees in the film have more personality than the characters.
And don’t get me wrong, I get it. The forest is supposed to represent a dark, mysterious force that hides secrets. But after a while, those long, lingering shots just become a chore. If I wanted to see endless shots of nature, I’d watch a Planet Earth marathon. At least then, I could fall asleep to something that’s genuinely soothing.
The Horror: Less Terror, More Bore
As a horror film, Flora is about as thrilling as a gardening session. The stakes should be high—plants are infecting people, people are dying—but instead, we’re left with a lot of long-winded, pseudo-scientific babble and very little in the way of actual terror. When the inevitable “horror” moments arrive, they feel forced. The scares are so underwhelming that you can practically hear the soundtrack’s attempt to tell you when to be frightened. At one point, a character is supposedto be attacked by a plant. I’m not even exaggerating. That’s how flat the horror is: when plants attack, it’s just a huge disappointment. The climax of this film is more “meh” than “oh no,” and it’s not because the characters have figured out a way to combat the plants—it’s because the film’s final act is the cinematic equivalent of having your plants watered for you.
The Ending: An Exhale of Boredom
After 90 minutes of aimless wandering and frustrating “how are we going to survive this?” dialogue, the ending of Florais a letdown. I won’t spoil it, but suffice to say, you won’t be on the edge of your seat. The film ends with such a tepid conclusion that you might even wonder if the filmmakers just ran out of energy—and, in a way, they did. It feels like the plants had more life in them than the resolution.
Conclusion: Skip the Garden Party
In conclusion, Flora is a film that tries so hard to be deep and atmospheric but ends up being neither. The only thing more infectious than the plant-based pathogen in this movie is the boredom that spreads through your brain as you try to stay engaged with the painfully slow pacing and lackluster performances. With its aimless plot, forgettable characters, and uninspiring horror, Flora ultimately feels like an exercise in missed potential. If you’re looking for a film that combines science fiction, horror, and drama in a way that actually delivers, you’d be better off skipping Flora and letting it remain buried in the soil where it belongs.
