It’s been nine years since Athina Rachel Tsangari ‘s last film “Chevalier,” a mordant contemporary satire of toxic male ego and destructive dick-measuring contests. Much has changed in the Greek writer-director’s third feature “ Harvest ” — her first English-language work, her first literary adaptation and by some measure her most ornate and expensive production to date, set some centuries in the past — but the theme of petty, ruinous patriarchy holds strong. Taking on British author Jim Crace’s Booker-shortlisted historical novel about a farming community undone by parochial distrust and encroaching capitalism, Tsangari’s vigorous, yeasty period piece occasionally loses the thread of its sprawling ensemble narrative, but transfixes as a whole-sackcloth immersion into another time and place.

The exact time and location are open to interpretation. As in Crace's novel, neither is specified, but the accents and rugged, verdant landscape — the film was shot on location in Argyllshire, Scotland — strongly suggest a northern setting. The year could be any time in the 17th or early 18th centuries, before the Industrial Revolution but after the implementation of enclosure acts that privatized previously shared land, marking the end of the open-field system of the Middle Ages. The ambiguity of the setting highlights the deeply ingrained customs of a community resistant to the passage of time. Yet, there's nothing vague about the impressively weathered, oxidized production design by Nathan Parker (“The Kitchen,” “I Am Not a Witch”), with its timber structures, aged by wind and rain, held together by mud, mold, and tradition.

The tranquility of this efficient, unnamed village is shattered when one of its buildings, the farmstead's stable, is mysteriously set ablaze one evening. This event triggers a tumultuous week of accusations and revenge. Master Kent (brilliantly portrayed by Harry Melling, embodying both leadership and vulnerability), the lord of the manor, prefers not to impose his authority on the villagers. He champions the more socialist model of land-sharing favored by his late wife, the estate's original heir. Yet, the villagers demand retribution for the fire, pinning the blame on three unfamiliar wanderers, two men and a woman, without any trial or evidence. As punishment, the men are chained to the local pillory for a week; Mistress Beldam (Thalissa Teixeira), the woman, is subjected to a forced haircut and accusations of witchcraft.

Unease arises in the village with the arrival of Thirsk (Caleb Landry Jones, convincingly embodying a Scottish accent), a solitary outsider. He found his way to farming through a profound love for nature and was raised and educated alongside Kent, his mother having been employed as the young lord's nanny. This unique background makes Thirsk a mediator of sorts, but he quickly finds himself isolated when divisions emerge within the community.

This tranquility is shattered when two outsiders arrive. Earle (Arinzé Kene), a seasoned mapmaker hired by Kent to create the region's first map, begins naming and labeling previously unnamed landmarks and flora. Then comes Jordan (Frank Dillane, known for his role in “Fear the Walking Dead”), Kent's cousin through marriage and the estate's rightful heir, who arrives with ambitious, decidedly individualistic plans to transform the land into a lucrative livestock operation. Jordan, with his aloof demeanor and unflattering hairstyle, is a clear antagonist amidst characters who oscillate between sympathetic victimhood and brutal mob mentality. Thirsk might be the closest to a protagonist, but he remains intriguingly passive, fiercely loyal to the land, with no apparent desires or ambitions beyond this dedication.

While not solely a male-dominated story — Rosy McEwen, playing the character in “Blue Jean,” leaves a mark as one of the most traditional villagers, with Teixeira facing her initial anger — “Harvest” highlights the powerful, masculine dynamics of control and rivalry that shaped this transitional period of history (and many before and after). This era prioritized personal wealth over the collective well-being of the community, not to mention the environment. The film's undefined setting underscores the enduring nature of this narrative, especially in the face of climate change: Tsangari concludes the film with a dedication to her grandparents in Greece, “whose farmland is now a highway.”

While “Harvest” is complex in its structure and evocative in its atmosphere, it’s not a somber moral tale. There’s a wry humor to its examination of class conflict and certain arcane traditions that probably should give way to modernity — a droll running joke involves the custom of instructively slamming children’s heads on the local boundary-marking stone — and the storytelling is so busy and fevered that the film, weighty in some respects, never feels stiff. If anything, it’s a bit restless. The villagers are compelling as a mass but never fully articulated as individuals, despite fine, flavorful ensemble work across the board. Tsangari and Joslyn Barnes’ script outlines racial discrimination against the characters of Earle and Mistress Beldam, but doesn’t really get around to the subject.

Yet as a feat of world-building — and later, world-dismantling — “Harvest” continuously impresses, creating a convincingly unified and threatened ecosystem through Parker’s richly textured designs, the velvet-and-hessian contrasts of Kirsty Halliday’s grungy, sweat-stained costumes and the rough texture and weather-faded finish of Sean Price Williams’ beautiful-not-pretty cinematography, with its occasionally Bruegel-ian crowd compositions. The film’s images are alive not just to the grassy, insect-scored allure of the British summer but the less romantic swirls and spatters and outright mush of the earth beneath the characters’ feet — dank and dirty but still full of possibility, not yet neutered and paved over by the onset of industry. It’s no Edenic idyll, but it’s a kind of paradise lost.