The Wicker Man (1973)

Often called "the Citizen Kane of horror films," The Wicker Man is yet another horror classic facing an uphill struggle thanks to decades and decades of hype. It's easy to forget, then, that it's kind of a rough-hewn production; its variety of divisive edits are certainly proof of that. Cut up by censors and then cut up again to jive with foreign markets, the original release is often seen as inferior to later cuts, such as the 'final cut,' which is the one I'll be looking at today. Only thing is, Robin Hardy isn't immune to that unfortunate impulse to keep fiddling with his masterpiece until it begins to barely resemble the original, and so those popular later cuts are also full of the kind of stuff that probably should have stayed on the cutting room floor. In addition, you'd be forgiven for thinking that this film would struggle to shock and awe a modern audience raised on countless films and TV shows inspired by it, only you'd be dead wrong. If you're looking for something different, something quirky and unique, with many humorous and horny moments living harmoniously alongside disturbing violence and distinctly human evil, The Wicker Man might be just what the witch doctor ordered. 

It's a nearly unparalleled work of seventies horror, a strong decade for the genre to begin with, and it bears all the watermarks of the era: it's cynical, bleak, somewhat cruel, and questions if any mythic monster can ever hope to be more terrifying than your fellow man when he turns against you. It's far from conservative in its views, as evidenced by how it lampoons our lead, the self-serious and deeply religious Sergeant Howie, and his prudish attitude towards hedonistic values, though the death of the hippie movement must have certainly influenced the bitter, nihilistic ending that sees an earthly paradise corrupt itself by spilling blood.

The other aspect of the film that reminds one of the decade in which it was made is its distinction as a horror musical. Yes, seriously. It's a unique take on a musical as well, as there isn't a glut of songs, and the cinematography and visuals during those songs are quite restrained, but what is there is quite memorable, distinctly folky, and so bawdy it comes across as genuinely medieval. It's this kind of wild creativity and a lack of established rules for making and selling a film that you don't get as much nowadays, as this was a few years before Jaws would come along and change everything. 

Yes, this is far from your average horror film, and its fixation on folk music isn't the only thing that makes it stand out. It's also kind of hilarious, watching Sgt. Howie going so far out of his comfort zone to try and rescue a missing girl from these evil cultists, and constantly being halted in his tracks by his worst fear: heathens, and sexy ones too. You see, Howie doesn't believe in sex before marriage, and he's only just gotten engaged to be married. He's not quite a forty-year-old virgin yet, but he's probably not far from it, which makes his interactions with these free-spirited hippies almost Python-esque at times, though it also adds much to his character. As his frustration mounts, so does our amusement, and you may even forget that you're watching a horror film; but by golly, once the infamously twisted ending arrives, you'll be violently reminded. Those earlier dashes of humor only serve to make the grotesquely satisfying ending that much more shocking and shockingly effective.

Howie is believable, then, and that makes a big difference. Ed Woodward can be thanked for much of the heavy lifting, but the talent behind the camera supports his performance wonderfully in every aspect. Though we laugh at him and his feeble attempts to bully the pagans, we still kind of love him for it, and so we're concerned when things begin to conspire against him and it becomes clear that he is in danger. But what I think makes this film a cut above most anything else in the horror genre is the depth with which this pagan cult is portrayed, both in their performances but also as characters, human beings with good and bad in them who are making a huge mistake out of desperation and seem to be going about it as respectfully and pleasantly as possible. Their humanity only makes their cruelty all the more appalling, and ultimately, believable. Their heathen values, though appealing both to us modern viewers and the writer-director Robin Hardy, still don't make them good people, and Howie's stiff, bullish demeanor and lack of progressive values likewise don't make him any more deserving of such an awful fate. The cult actually seems in awe of him and his restraint. There's a great moment where Lord Summerisle offers our poor hero what are either words of comfort or vicious mockery, and whichever you think to be correct depends entirely on how you interpret him and his cult. In any case, this is far superior to the uninteresting Hollywood cults of previous hit films such as The City of the Dead or The Devil Rides Out. And while this theory was technically debunked by the director, there is this lingering question after the film is over of whether or not the cult was offering him an escape in the form of sex with Britt Eklind, which would have rid him of his coveted virginity, rendered him unfit for sacrifice, and allowed him to go about his merry way, which I found interesting because it turns Howie's principled nature around on him and punishes him for it. This is reflected at the end when Howie begins angrily pleading and preaching to the cult, and his arguments against their false gods and ceremonies could easily double as a deconstruction of his own faith, which has been, presumably, the only constant in his lonely life up until that point. When we watch it shatter in a bleak moment of realization, it's truly devastating.

So it's a well-written, devilish little act of subversion and human cruelty that I very much recommend, but the story is only a single piece of the puzzle. I've already discussed the wonderful score, which is often so preoccupied with sex as to resemble something from This is Spinal Tap, but my god: the visuals are no slouch either. They've got that natural, grainy look that I love, and everything is so colorful. It reminds me visually of The Prisoner starring Patrick McGoohan, a similarly psychedelic and garish work that takes place in a village of creeps. It's also one of the best distillations of everything I love visually about folk horror: Stonehenge, naked maidens dancing around a bonfire, a maypole dance, elaborate ceremonies featuring pageantry and music, giant human effigies, and a quasi-medieval setting. And all of The Wicker Man's most disturbing scenes are set in the daylight, on scenic stretches of real Hebridean isle no less, so it brings the contrast between serene beauty and hideous violence that is so often highlighted in folk horror. Performances are great all 'round, with the clear standouts being Ed Woodward, who brings Howie to life with aplomb, and Christopher Lee, who gives perhaps my favorite performance of his here doing something a bit more subtle by his standards. 

So whoever you are, if you're reading this and you're at all interested in horror, give this one a spin, and don't let the musical tag scare you off.