7. The Wicker Man (Robin Hardy, 1973)
Perhaps the most unique horror film within this countdown, and certainly one of the most original creations the genre has to offer, Robin Hardy’s The Wicker Man remains a deeply unsettling piece of filmmaking and one of the most acclaimed British horrors of all time. Though best remembered for its horrendously grim finale, Hardy’s film boasts many more chilling treasures than that.
Like many horror films of its era, The Wicker Man places heavy emphasis on lust and sexuality. However, unlike the Hammer Horrors that portrayed such themes via amorous vampires and the like, Hardy’s film channels them through an almost entirely untouched subject. Though a deeply disturbing and macabre topic, the notion of Paganism remains mostly unexplored within the cinematic realm. However, screenwriter Anthony Schaffer’s script boldly introduces the unnerving concept that, on a rural island off the coast of Scotland, dwells a community of Pagans who believe that the only way to ensure the success of their harvest is to present their gods with a live human sacrifice.
Edward Woodward portrays the islander’s offering, Sergeant Howie, a straight-laced religious policeman who, on visiting the island after receiving reports of a missing girl, is unable to hide his contempt and suspicion for the chirpy villagers who deny all knowledge of the disappearance. However, through the deliberately slow pace and commendable storytelling technique, both Howie and we the audience begin to sense danger amidst the collection of welcoming smiles. As Howie encounters various bizarre incidents; his plane is sabotaged, stranding him; a recently buried casket contains the body of a rabbit; a schoolmistress sternly informs her young pupils of the workings of the male genitals, it is clear that something sinister is afoot.
And at the centre of all the mystery and unease is the king of horror himself, Christopher Lee, as Lord Summerisle, the dashing ruler of the islands folk. Summerisle’s blatant disregard of Christian principals and deliberately perplexing responses to Howie’s enquiries infuriate and horrify the policeman, who is forced to continue his search alone and with renewed vigour and desperation. Ultimately, he unravels the mystery too late and endures one of cinema’s most memorable exits.
Though the protagonist’s ultimate fate at the hands of the cunning villagers is indeed horrific, what makes the film so enduringly unsettling is the ever-present atmosphere of unease built up throughout the film. Despite the fact that almost everyone in the film-watching world knows how the film ends, the sense of dread remains all the more intact as we watch Howie’s desperate plight, knowing full well what will become of him. Also, the ambiguous nature of the antagonists adds to the unnerving quality of the film. While we feel blatant fear towards the likes of Michael Myers, Freddy Krueger et al, how are we supposed to respond to the beaming villagers, who ultimately assure Howie that his sacrifice is a great honour? While we feel empathy towards the doomed police officer trapped in the torso of the ominous wooden figure, it is difficult to despise the jubilant villagers as they stand hand in hand singing “Summer is a-coming in.” Is the film not simply playing on our anxieties towards other cultures? Does not animal sacrifice still exist elsewhere in the world even to this day? Such ambivalent elements uphold the film as a masterful horror, one that allows us to carry the perplexing dread with us for a long time to come.
Perhaps the most unique horror film within this countdown, and certainly one of the most original creations the genre has to offer, Robin Hardy’s The Wicker Man remains a deeply unsettling piece of filmmaking and one of the most acclaimed British horrors of all time. Though best remembered for its horrendously grim finale, Hardy’s film boasts many more chilling treasures than that.
Like many horror films of its era, The Wicker Man places heavy emphasis on lust and sexuality. However, unlike the Hammer Horrors that portrayed such themes via amorous vampires and the like, Hardy’s film channels them through an almost entirely untouched subject. Though a deeply disturbing and macabre topic, the notion of Paganism remains mostly unexplored within the cinematic realm. However, screenwriter Anthony Schaffer’s script boldly introduces the unnerving concept that, on a rural island off the coast of Scotland, dwells a community of Pagans who believe that the only way to ensure the success of their harvest is to present their gods with a live human sacrifice.
Edward Woodward portrays the islander’s offering, Sergeant Howie, a straight-laced religious policeman who, on visiting the island after receiving reports of a missing girl, is unable to hide his contempt and suspicion for the chirpy villagers who deny all knowledge of the disappearance. However, through the deliberately slow pace and commendable storytelling technique, both Howie and we the audience begin to sense danger amidst the collection of welcoming smiles. As Howie encounters various bizarre incidents; his plane is sabotaged, stranding him; a recently buried casket contains the body of a rabbit; a schoolmistress sternly informs her young pupils of the workings of the male genitals, it is clear that something sinister is afoot.
And at the centre of all the mystery and unease is the king of horror himself, Christopher Lee, as Lord Summerisle, the dashing ruler of the islands folk. Summerisle’s blatant disregard of Christian principals and deliberately perplexing responses to Howie’s enquiries infuriate and horrify the policeman, who is forced to continue his search alone and with renewed vigour and desperation. Ultimately, he unravels the mystery too late and endures one of cinema’s most memorable exits.
Though the protagonist’s ultimate fate at the hands of the cunning villagers is indeed horrific, what makes the film so enduringly unsettling is the ever-present atmosphere of unease built up throughout the film. Despite the fact that almost everyone in the film-watching world knows how the film ends, the sense of dread remains all the more intact as we watch Howie’s desperate plight, knowing full well what will become of him. Also, the ambiguous nature of the antagonists adds to the unnerving quality of the film. While we feel blatant fear towards the likes of Michael Myers, Freddy Krueger et al, how are we supposed to respond to the beaming villagers, who ultimately assure Howie that his sacrifice is a great honour? While we feel empathy towards the doomed police officer trapped in the torso of the ominous wooden figure, it is difficult to despise the jubilant villagers as they stand hand in hand singing “Summer is a-coming in.” Is the film not simply playing on our anxieties towards other cultures? Does not animal sacrifice still exist elsewhere in the world even to this day? Such ambivalent elements uphold the film as a masterful horror, one that allows us to carry the perplexing dread with us for a long time to come.
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