Robert Eggers'
The Witch:
A New England Folktale is a masterpiece of engrossing storytelling, a rare intelligent horror film that relies on character and atmosphere rather than cheap jump scares and excessive gore.
In New England of 1630, farmer William (gravelly-voiced Ralph Ineson) is exiled from his village for his particular interpretation of the Christian religion, and takes his family to live in an isolated farmstead on the edge of a creepy forest.
He and his wife, Katherine (
Game Of Thrones' Kate Dickie), ban their children from going into the forest, telling them they must stay within the boundary of the farm.
One day, their teenage daughter Thomasin (Anya Taylor-Joy) is playing peek-a-boo with the family's newest arrival, baby Samuel (Axtun Henry Dube/Athan Conrad Dube) when the newborn suddenly disappears... and the family's real troubles begin.
William claims the child was taken by a wolf, but increasingly the family come to believe it was the work of witchcraft.
The Witch can be seen as a metaphor for the current problems in America, something unknown strikes at the heart of the devout family, then retreats back into the woods and watches the flames of paranoia engulf the insular community, occasionally fanning the fire from its hiding place in the trees.
Much of the horror, in fact, comes from the religious intolerance at the core of the family's fundamental beliefs; in a very real sense they make their own fear by cultivating brutal ideas about eternal damnation, sins of the flesh etc that confuse and terrify the younger members of the family.
The family does more to tear itself apart than the overt actions of whatever is in the woods.
It is easy to see from this how such shocking events as the Salem Witch Trials could come about, with random (
but ultimately explicable) events and misspoke words (
taken at face value) ultimately leading to burning people at the stake.
As William's family try to move on from the loss of Samuel, good intentions turn to disasters. Then we find ourselves questioning the initial motivations of these deeds and we have to wonder how much of their situation arises from William's own pride and hypocrisy?
By no stretch of the imagination is
The Witch a mainstream schlock horrorfest. If you thought
The Boy was a slow-burner, then this is positively glacial by comparison (
even though the first 'incident' happens within the opening ten minutes), but it all helps build the tension and draw you in.
So dismal is the family's world that much of the time it looks almost like a black and white movie - which makes the odd moments of red all the more striking and important - and the script's period dialogue gets a bit mumbly at times (
although not approaching the near-comical levels of Tom Hardy's character in The Revenant), but there is no missing the intent of what is being said, even if the odd sentence eludes you.
The acting from all concerned is incredible, accentuating the sense of verisimilitude that makes the events all the more believable.
To really get the most out of
The Witch, you need to close the curtains, turn out the lights, turn off all your mobile devices, and allow yourself to sink into the stark 17th Century setting, focusing on the unfolding drama on the screen rather than whatever drama is unfolding in the Twitterverse.
Overall, the film is more a well-researched historical drama and psychological thriller than a blockbuster horror flick.
With period folklore shaping the 'supernatural' elements of the story,
The Witch is worthy to stand alongside
The Wicker Man,
Blood On Satan's Claw and, even,
The Blair Witch Project with its understated, but unnerving, approach to the genre that is absent many modern horror tropes.
Now I love a good monster movie as much as the next man, but I do wish there were more subtle and smart horror films like
The Witch being made to balance out the genre's offerings.