Review of The Wicker Man (1973) by Jake R — 07 Oct 2008

Falling victim to the modern trend of turgid, risible remakes of '70s classics, even the pathetic Nicholas Cage reffort can't diminish the power of Robin Hardy's terrifying original.

In essence it's a quintessentially 1970s film. The visual rhythms and layer of sounds continually overlap and hyperventilate creating tension in that old-school , sweaty-palmed way. What makes the horror so effective and unique is its rejection of horror conventions. No monster, no lone psychopath, no occult forces or maladies of science. Hell, the movie isn't even shot in the dark. What we get is a horror conjured from the minds and actions of the community itself, but unlike, say, 'Invasion of the Body Snatchers', these people are not slaves to a higher power or threat but simply adhering to a normal way of life. The people of Summerisle don't see their actions as demonic but an extension of their own religion.

To combat this is golden boy Howie, stalwart of good old-fashioned God-fearing Christianity to show up how backward and primitive these people are. Now, 35 years on and the world's a very different place. Generations of cynicism and disillusionment and social change have rendered Christianity to be the unspoken 'cult' in its own right. While a large proportion of (British) people remain religious no longer is it a staple of daily life, certainly not to people in their 20s and below. And in an age of equality and tolerance, the people of Summerisle largely appear to merely be one of those weird but, supposedly, harmless minorities that dot the populous. So when we se Howie chastising the people for their rejection of Christianity it is he who seems the blinkered and uncouth one, indifferent of any faith except his own (to be a little fair he does remind Lord Summerisle he lives in a 'predominantly Christian country.').

Howeverm age too has made the film more terrifying. Beyond the early 1970s cults have proved to be very ambiguous and the people of Summerisle are as warped as anyone from the People's Temple or Heaven's Gate, Aum Shinrikyo or the Branch Davidians. A modern world knows just how communities like this work and how they are a personification of the power to brainwash and indoctrinate.

It's the presentation that creates that uniquely surreal atmosphere. Kindly-looking old men smirk among themselves; teens fornicate en masse in the open air; a naked girl weeps on her partner's grave; old people gaze placidly and blankly out of windows and doors; young girls frolick naked in strange fertility rites; children are taught explicitly sexual practises in school; a girl cheerfully breatfeeds in a graveyard; and all the while none of the stories the villagers give Howie ever seem to fit together. Unspoken, unsettling and relentless the film disturbs and chills to the bone in every frame, perfectly concocting a reality of surrounding psychological horror.

Christopher Lee departs Hammer to deliver a strong turn as the pagan leader 'Lord' Summerisle, using his towering figure to good advantage. But it's the hapless Edward Woodward as the confounded Sgt. Howie who makes the film what it is. Progressing from virginal prude to tragic victim he grips emotionally and powerfully. He may be an old stiff but he's the only grasp of sanity any of us have.

A masterwork of distinctly British horror, enticing and enclosing, burning into the mind long after the reels end.