The Wicker Man

THE WICKER MAN

(1973)

Dir - Robin Hardy

Overall: GREAT

 

When something is dubbed "The Citizen Kane of horror movies", one's eyebrows are likely to raise.  Such a bestowing from Cinefantastique magazine may seem highfalutin, but consider that in the five plus decades since Robin Hardy and Anthony Shaffer's The Wicker Man was released, its reputation has steadily increased from a forgotten genre film made by a financially fledgling company to one of the finest works in British cinema, horror or otherwise.  It has also been lost and found in a plethora of versions, the complete film negatives possibly gone for good.  One should never say "never" though as episodes of classic Doctor Who seem to sporadically show up in random vaults over a half a century after being wiped by the BBC.  Amongst all the "Final Cuts" and "Director's Cuts" of The Wicker Man, the version that most of the people involved in its filming have long claimed to be the superior, (and ergo complete), one may yet be unearthed in our lifetime.

 

The movie's troubled production and even more troubled post-production has become interwoven with its legacy, and it should be lamented that it existed under the radar for as long as it did.  Genre buffs and overall cinefiles have long been hip to its brilliance, the film was theatrically released and in print after all, be it in mangled versions.  Plus, its cast and crew have long sang its praises, Christopher Lee going as far as to say that it was the finest film he was ever in, as well as how much of a travesty it is that it remained, (and still remains), technically incomplete at the time of the actor's death in 2015.  Yet when it comes to discussing the genre's crème de la crème, The Wicker Man has seldom been mentioned in the same breath or with as much frequency as say The Exorcist or The Shining.  There may be another reason for this though besides the movie being disregarded due to its production company British Lion Films going belly-up when it was made, and fellow distributors either treating it with disinterest or demanding various cuts that forever tarnished it, depending on who you ask.  This other reason is that The Wicker Man itself does not behave in a manner befitting to conventional horror films.  As would could guess though, (and like a handful of other seminal works in the genre), this is largely what makes it so impressive.

 

Men who were on a mission to keep the camp level nonexistent, per example.

Screenwriter Anthony Shaffer initially devised the script as a straight adaptation of David Pinner's 1967 novel Ritual, itself originally envisioned as a screenplay before it was rejected as such and turned into a book.  Shaffer, director Robin Hardy, producer Peter Snell, and attached star Christopher Lee, (himself wanting to get into more serious projects and desperate to step away from the lousy horror vehicles that he was almost exclusively offered), all found Pinner's source material to be incompatible with the film medium, thus they only took the basic premise and plot outline while changing many of the details.  These were heavily researched by Shaffer, who consulted various texts on Celtic paganism to give the project a much-needed aura of authenticity.

 

Folklore and ancient religion scholars will be able to pick up on the barrage of influences scattered all over the place, many of which stem from different centuries and alleged practices, several of which may or may not have been actually partaken of all those centuries ago.  Considering that the film is set in modern day and that the intended theme was to clash conventional Christianity with abandoned paganism, the fact that the latter is presented from a hodgepodge of sources is something that works narratively.  When the story transpires, the inhabitants of the fictitious and remote Summerisle, (located in the Hebrides island cluster off the west coast of Scotland), have reintegrated such ancient rituals into their community over the last century, so it makes sense that they would be made up of various pagan tidbits.  May Day celebrations, the Green Man Inn, the long sword dance, the maypole, our doomed protagonist Sgt. Neil Howie, (Edward Woodward), disguising himself as the Fool in a Mr. Punch costume, naked fertility dancing over an open fire, and of course the title sacrifice at the end are all cobbled together from a variety of texts, and Shaffer cherry picked the best of them to create a steady stream of images for Woodward's devout Christian Sgt. Howie to be alarmed at.

 

Nothing at all to be alarmed at.

When Woodward's police Sergent arrives at Summerisle, the tomfoolery begins in earnest.  Most of the villagers refuse to hide their smirks as they endlessly mislead him, denying the existence of the missing child that he is investigating, or faking confusion over his inquiries into her alleged disappearance.  Lee's horribly-wigged Lord Summerisle is cooperative and eagerly tells the tale of his ancestors settling the village and setting up its chief export of apples, proudly trying to sell Woodward on their vibrant pagan community while seeming unphased by the Sergent's concerns.  The structure is that of a mystery, a police procedural actually where Woodward knows something curious is going on and spends the majority of the movie trying to piece together each desperate clue that he finds.  One of the film's most interesting aspects is the unorthodox way in which it unsettles.  The story catches our interest from the get go, (a missing girl amongst a town of oddly indifferent or clearly lying people is something that we want to get to the bottom of as much as Woodward's protagonist does), but the Summerisle location is one that deliberately does not seem diabolical.

 

There are no cobweb ridden catacombs, no dark and stormy nights, no superstitious and forlorn villagers spouting ominous warnings, no conventional scary music cues, no nightmarish visuals that may or may not be psychologically induced.  Instead, Summerisle is full of people smiling, dancing, singing rambunctious songs, and slyly avoiding questions with nod and wink politeness, all while the Spring setting wields aesthetically fetching results.  The island community looks like a downright pleasant place to vacation, let alone live.  Everyone seems be on the same jovial page, the scenery is lovely, the women are lovely, the children are happy, and it all appears to be the last place in the world where a young girl would go missing under nefarious circumstances.  Of course this contributes directly to how intriguing the mystery is.  Something is...not right on Summerisle.  Even for viewers who go in blind and with minimal expectations, (which is always ideal), one can gather that sinister forces may be at work.  Either that or everyone is playing a lighthearted gag on Woodward, conning him as part of their May Day festivities, merely fucking with an out of towner who takes his job and his religion too seriously and ergo is ample fodder for pranking.  The hilarious part is that, technically, this is in fact exactly what everyone on Summerisle is doing to him.

 

Sgt. Howie, you ole dope you.

The film skews expectations further by making Sgt. Howie a borderline unsympathetic lead character.  He is pompous and lacks a sense of humor, ergo making him the perfect stick-up-his-ass law enforcement stereotype.  He is also an over-zealous Christian stereotype.  This brings the budding heads of two different cultures to the forefront.  The Summerisle folk behave in a manner that seems wacky and carefree to viewers who do not share Howie's self righteous outrage, their pagan hippy ways serving as a sort of counter culture alternative to the type of strict and stodgy dogma that Howie and conservative ole England follows.  Woodward acts appalled at the things he sees on Summerisle, never censoring himself and spouting his concern as if it is common sense and not merely a surrogate viewpoint to all of the animal masks, phallic symbols, liberal sexual education, weird cakes, naked dancing, and frogs in the mouth that he witnesses.  Howie can not only NOT accept this lifestyle, he has to instinctively condone it to the faces of the people practicing it.  This makes him a self righteous Debbie Downer, a guy who could not loosen up and enjoy himself in such a setting if his life depended on it.  As it turns out of course, it is all part of the scheme against him, the Summerisle townsfolk systematically testing him to make sure that they have the right do-gooder, virgin, authority figure doofus to utilize in their final ritual to usher forth a rich and profitable harvest come Summer.

 

Along the way, the score by Paul Giovanni, (the only such film soundtrack that he ever composed), was just as researched as Shaffer's script.  It is a combination of traditional folk songs and originals, all preformed by the characters in the movie, thus technically making this a musical, (yet another aspect that contradicts it to horror conventions).  The collected works of folk scholar Cecil Sharp served as a basis for the lyrics, Giovanni, Shaffer, and Hardy working closely together to authenticate them.  When various Summerisle residents burst into song, it appropriately jars the viewer and provides another element that seems buoyant on the surface, yet concerning considering the serious mystery of the missing child that is still underway.  When Woodward arrives from the mainland saying that he received a complaint about a possibly kidnapped or murdered kid that no one seems to fess up much information about, (and they just sing songs about the landlord's daughter or said landlord's daughter dances seductively naked while beckoning the Sergent to come roll in ze hay with her), something is again...not right.

Thy maiden's horny nakedness knows no bounds.

The film's disconcerting nature is steadily maintained by Hardy.  The tone never becomes too ridiculous to break verisimilitude, though it does teeter on this edge.  Of course anyone viewing it for the first time who is expecting either a viscerally frighting or tongue-in-cheek Gothic romp will be confused to say the least by all of the happy naked pagans singing and gyrating around in settings that purposely avoid horror window dressing.  One can chuckle at the absurdity of it all while still being on board to find out what indeed is going on.  The creepiness, well, creeps up on you.  More to the point, it comes from a singular form, where things that should not be worrisome on paper become worrisome as we progress.

 

For awhile, it appears that the clues which Woodward unlocks could merely lead to playful shenanigans on the part of the Summerisle villagers, but again, that is both accurate and not accurate.  Everyone smiles and seems pleased with themselves as they enjoy their May Day, pleased with themselves as they lead Woodward on, pleased with themselves as they tease and tempt him, making him the butt of one joke that has an all too serious payoff.  Yet even during the triumphant finale, the people of Summerisle are in joyous harmony with each other.  It is their jolly nature which becomes terrifying, their end game one of the most harrowing in any film.

Christopher Lee wearing...whatever the hell this is = clearly unwholesome.

Much has been said about the ending to The Wicker Man, and it is an ending that is so impactful that it would otherwise deflate the movie on repeated views if not for several factors.  One, (and this is the case with many twist finales), audience members can revisit the film after knowing where it all leads by looking out for the clues.  We can see all the places where Woodward's Sgt. Howie went wrong, all the places where everyone was pulling his strings and challenging him to find out if he would slip up in his favor or theirs.  Shaffer's script is so well-structured and Hardy's direction so meticulous, that we can bask in how many subtle hints are there from the onset, not to mention all of the blatant hints now that we know what we know.  It makes for a different viewing experience of course, but after all, we can only experience a story for the first time once.  All of the detailed research here wields something that authenticates the paganism of yesteryear while simultaneously making it both appealing and then terrifying by film's end.

 

Another factor to consider is that Woodward's performance during the closing moments is nothing short of outstanding.  This may be a hyperbolic statement sure, but no matter how many times one views the movie and no matter that we know what is coming, when the Wicker Man is finally revealed, (in a handheld shot from Woodward's POV no less), the actor's aghast horror still hits the audience like a freight train.  Woodward screaming "Oh god...oh Jesus Christ!" while the camera quickly zooms onto his terrifying face is downright chilling, as is the rest of his procession towards his doom, as well as his endless pleas that fall on deaf ears.

 

Dude, the look on your face was priceless!

For roughly eighty to ninety minutes, (again, depending on what cut of the movie you are watching), The Wicker Man has been playing a quirky mystery game, one that we only gradually get the sense may lead somewhere malevolent.  Up until it does though, there is still hope that Woodward may be spared his horrible fate, or that the Summerisle resident's persistently festive nature is after all merely in jest.  Yet as the film inches its way to the closing credits and Woodward protests in vain, we realize just as he does that this is indeed what the whole con has come to.  It is at this moment that the movie's central theme of paganism vs Christianity comes full circle, and we are disturbed at the implication.  An entire people cut off from the societal norms of the modern day live an animated and communal existence, one that is idealistic in the sense that everyone is happy, everyone is on the same page.  It is a bona fide utopia of sorts, but it is one that works on a certain principal to keep it going that spits in the face of love and harmony.

 

Well, or so it would seem to us and so it would seem to Woodard's devout Christian, but not how it seems to the Summerisle folks.  They sing "Sumer Is Icumen In" while the Wicker Man is set ablaze, swaying in full unison with each other as Woodward screams and then excepts his awful fate.  Rarely in cinema has such a juxtaposition sent us home, the unbelievable and terrifying commingling with the buoyant.  Summerisle is wholly confident that their efforts will bare literal fruit, they embrace their religion with the same unwavering glee that they have exhibited throughout.  At the same token, Sgt. Howie's own zealous beliefs have doomed him, and they are just as steadfast while he prays to his god as the flames engulf him.  Neither he nor the Summerisle folks can cohabitate in such a setting, neither can hear the other side out.  In effect, an atrocity has been committed, one that one side celebrates while the other suffers.  It is a powerful final image of intolerance, of assured dogmatic alliance, of humanity's inability to coexist.  What can be more disturbing than that?  Speaking of it as a horror film, what can be more horrific than that?

 

Oh "happy" day!