Le dieu d'osier

Years before Edward Woodward gained a measure of fame in the States as TV's Equalizer, he portrayed a dogged police detective poking around a remote Scottish island in search of the truth about a missing girl in Robin Hardy's The Wicker Man. His performance here is easily one of his best -- in order for the unbelievable and unthinkable story to succeed, Woodward must convince us that all of the unnerving events that take place throughout the movie are entirely plausible. He certainly convinced me, and I have never been able to forget the traumatic, harrowing conclusion of the film. Christopher Lee, Britt Ekland, Ingrid Pitt and the rest of the cast provide perfect counterpoint to Woodward's analytical outsider.

"The Wicker Man" is damn near perfect for setting the foundation for so many folk horror films that followed. You can see its influence in "Midsommar" and even in some found-footage horror where outsiders stumble into hidden cults. The film taps into something primal; old traditions, ancient pagan beliefs, and a clash of cultures. It's a horror rooted in history and ritual, which makes it feel disturbingly real. Some people find the folk songs a bit jarring, especially if they go in expecting a traditional horror film. But honestly, the music adds to the eeriness; it lulls you into a false sense of warmth before the horror really sinks in. That final sequence is one of the most haunting conclusions in horror history. No jump scares, no last-minute rescues; just pure inevitability. The realization sinks in slowly, and by the time you hear "Sumer Is Icumen In" playing over that fiery climax, it's like watching a nightmare you can't wake up from. The film builds slowly. It's not a fast-paced horror with immediate scares or action, which might make it feel sluggish to modern audiences. But that slow-burn tension is part of what makes the ending hit so hard.

The best British horror film ever made? Probably, yes. The best horror film ever made? No. The best occult thriller ever? Quite possibly.

The film was in part conceived as a vehicle for Christopher Lee to get away from his Hammer roles and give him a chance to demonstrate that, yes, he could actually act. Perversely, however, the film is in many ways homage to the films produced by the Hammer studio and is at the same time their antithesis.

Although Lee's Lord Summerisle was certainly a stronger character than his Hammer caricatures, and was suitably sincere and sinister, it was left to Edward Woodward's bumbling, pious Highland Police Sergeant to carry the film.

The rest of the cast are not as strong as the two central characters. Famously, it was always suggested that Britt Ekland's voice was overdubbed for the entire film. Robin Hardy has now denied that, stating that only her singing was dubbed. Even if the other actors' performances fail to match those of Woodward and Lee, somehow, it doesn't detract from the film.

Almost as famous as The Wicker Man itself are the stories surrounding the film. The version first released was almost completely butchered from an original, almost grandiose cut of 102 minutes to a more concise 87. Christopher Lee has always maintained that this was a crime against the greatest piece of art with which he had ever been involved. The original negatives were then accidentally thrown out!

When a fuller version finally surfaced in 2001, Lee's contentions were (at least in part) proved. The film was overall improved, and save for a couple of points of rather clumsy editing (the flashbacks Edward Woodward has as the penny drops spring to mind) and the pointless scenes before the flight to the island, it ran more smoothly and made more sense.

The film's greatest asset comes through in whichever version you actually see. The eerie sinister atmosphere never fails to be conveyed. Somehow, the fictitious Scottish island setting of Summerisle, which could so easily turn twee at any moment steers clear of the territory occupied by Brigadoon or the now happily deceased BBC TV drama 'Monarch of the Glen'.

The setting's remoteness, which could have been its worst enemy, is actually its greatest ally.

Perhaps the most interesting thing about the film, however, is the way that it steadfastly refuses to fit precisely into any genre. It is all at once a horror, a thriller and even a musical! Unbelievably, these things come together and fit into the film.

The music in The Wicker Man is unique, always adding just the right tone of eeriness or bawdiness to proceedings. A strange mix of elements including traditional folk music, it's as innovative and interesting as the soundtracks to Blade Runner, or The Virgin Suicides. The opening title sequence to the tune of Corn Rigs succeeds in transporting you with the plane over the remote coastal peninsulas and out into the Irish Sea towards Summerisle.

My only criticism of the film (and I really am nitpicking here) is the way it goes about establishing Sergeant Howie's Christianity. I can't conceive of the Howie character adhering to any religion other than one of the obscure forms of Presbyterian Protestantism practised in parts of the Highlands of Scotland. These scenes contain an apparent reverence for the sacraments that appears more Catholic in nature. This distinction in religious backgrounds is important to understanding Howie's attitudes. Nevertheless, I am truly nitpicking when I make this criticism!

But what ultimately makes this film is its ending. Without giving the game away for those who have not yet seen the film, it is inevitable, and yet wholly unexpected when it finally comes.

The Wicker Man would be a classic of its genre - if it had a genre. Instead, it has to be ranked as a classic film.

A quite unique and very creative mystery horror.

Superb acting from Edward Woodward as the prim Seargant Howie, and Christopher Lee as Lord Summerisle. Fascinating from start to finish and a real twister of a plot that keeps you hooked right until the final twenty minutes, what appears at first sight to be an innocent search for a missing girl turns into a fascinating exploration of pagan rituals on a remote and sex obsessed Scottish island.

One of the best elements of the film is the classic early 70's folk soundtrack which gives indication of how the era in which this was filmed influenced the subject matter.

Definitely not a 'horror' in the true sense of the word, but more mysterious and chilling than any gore-fest. A quality piece of cinema!

There is a distinct air of menace flowing throughout The Wicker Man, a distinct feeling of unwelcome and unkind put across in the most brilliant of manners because everyone acts so nicely. Then there is the awful feeling you get at certain points when you realise the character of Sergeant Howie (Woodward) is in actual fact a policeman and what might happen if he hadn't been. The Wicker Man is really a mere exercise in suspense on the surface but I think it toys with other, more political ideas during the core of the film before substituting everything and just focussing very briefly on the religious aspects it raises.

For Sergeant Howie, he is bordering on the ultimate fish-out-of-water. Howie may be British and may well still be in Britain but that does not exclude him from the fish-out-of-water treatment that other film characters get when they are in that respective situation (see Doyle in 'French Connection II' and Neo in 'The Matrix' among many other examples). Howie is a man of pride; a man with ideas, discipline and rules and regulations he likes to stand by. He is a thorough man and this is partly his downfall since it is this case that is so difficult, it sees him assigned to it. Howie is on a remote Scottish isle investigating a disappearance of a young girl but while remaining within the boundaries of his own world; his own language and even his own country, Howie will find the going difficult and complicated due to several unsuspecting and eerie things.

Firstly, the location of the island is important because it obviously resembles a sort of detachment from the mainland or indeed the rest of the world. There is special care taken to tell the audience as well as Howie that the mainland is a good week or so away by boat. So within this isolated utopia for the locals develops a sub-culture, a world in which people are people but methods of teaching, governing and religion are very different. This can be read into as some sort of political statement by the writer of the film – perhaps he is bringing to attention the level of policing in Britain for the time? There is no suspicion from Howie at all in the film but I noticed very quickly there was no police station nor was there any feeling that rules were apparent. The whole island was governed by a mysterious, never seen man and look at what situation the island locals were in, in terms of mentality.

So if this island is a society without law and order; without a stone wall ruling on the most basic humane regulations, is the writer trying to bring to our attention the dangers of lack of authority in our own country? But The Wicker Man is not entirely an ambiguous text revolving around statements on our own world and society. It is a chilling and haunting horror film that predominantly falls into the 'Gothic' typecast due to its minute details on screen. There is a distinct ritualistic tone to the film and it is one that is fetishised. Several years earlier, Christopher Lee himself starred in the highly fetishised 'Dracula'. Here, shots of naked people sitting on grave stones and people having sex in graveyards, maybe to merely gross the 1973 audience out or to just make us aware that this is indeed going to be different, are included and add an ever present layer of disturbance but also one of ambiguity – why is it that people here do these things? To combine sex with a place of death can be linked with the film's overall theme. The man in the scene around the maypole sings a song about evolution and reproduction and generally about a certain circle of life. From here, it is only obvious that the act of reproduction (sex) to produce new life would take place in a location in which you bury the dead. Life goes on, it seems.

Then there is that extra evidence to suggest this is one of the great Gothic horrors. How may of the cast are actually playing themselves? There are the people in the public house and the elderly folk by the harbour. This gives off its own air of disturbance in the sense they might be playing themselves and what with the commentary on society as a whole, the two seem to bind together all the too nicely. Then there is the attention to faces early on. The chocolates in the baker's window have faces on them and the close up of the pub sign has a face on it. There is also the excessive wearing of masks later on as identity is toyed and revealed but generally kept ambiguous. Is this the future of the society circa 1973? Do we know what we believe in terms of religion? And where we are going in the future? What about the schools and the policing? Will this be the sad reality of a nation gone mad if these things are cut back on? I think these are the sorts of questions the writers are raising by making a film like this and it must've been all the more disturbing in 1973.

So if The Wicker Man succeeds as a statement then it certainly succeeds as a piece of Gothic horror. It mixes in the uncanny with the surreal and it carries a distinct atmosphere of dread all throughout. There is ambiguity all over the place but I especially liked the attention to the film's music: is it diegetic or not? Sometimes it is and others it isn't but it's such a head-trip of a soundtrack that it's difficult to notice most of the time. This surely one of the better British films ever made.