The Witch

THE WITCH

Director : Robert Eggers
Year : 2016
Genre : Horror
Rating : *****

''What was all that about? I'd rather have watched a wall for two hours!''. These are the words of a fellow cinema patron that greeted the end credits of 'The Witch', the fierce and atmospheric directorial debut from American filmmaker Robert Eggers. It's a response that has confused me for some time now but its not one that has totally surprised me either. Unlike the generic jump-scare horror fare of recent years that primarily relies on loud bangs and spontaneous stabs of music to get the heart racing, 'The Witch' takes its time to slowly build suspense, letting its horrifying atmosphere of underlying dread escalate and meticulously stretching each and every terrifying setup to the point of snapping. 

But while this more laboured method of generating terror has proved to be very successful in films such as Jennifer Kent's 2013 masterpiece 'The Babadook' (whose similar themes of nightmarish entities and unspoken truths form an interesting thematic comparison piece to 'The Witch'), it is still a much more unconventional and, dare I say it, old fashioned approach to scaring audiences than the almost mechanical techniques employed by almost every other mainstream horror director today. So its very easy to understand why many members of the audience will not connect on any emotional level with this film and why the aforementioned gentleman's immediate reaction to it may not, on the surface, be totally unjustified.

However, as someone who is totally enamoured with the psychological rather than the visceral aspect of horror, 'The Witch' (evocatively subtitled 'A New England Folktale') turns out to be my favourite movie of the year so far. The reason why is very simple - it takes the genre I love and identify with the most deadly seriously, something which seems to have bypassed the recent trend of cut out and keep multiplex shockers.

Set during the dark days of the 17th century, the film tells the story of an intensely pious family who, after the mysterious disappearance of their baby, come to believe that a demonic presence is terrorising their newly acquired Massachusetts farm. As more and more weird things begin to happen and less and less can be explained away as divine intervention, the family begins to tear itself apart as spiritual beliefs and religious upholdings pave the path for wild accusations and unforgivable actions.

The winner of the coveted Best director award at the prestigious Sundance Film Festival, Robert Eggers delights in showing his audience some of the most unsettling imagery in recent horror history - the narratively pivotal sequence of the young child in the clutches of the titular hag makes way for hallucinatory scenes of demonic possession, raven-bitten breasts and brutally gory moments of bloodshed; all shot in wonderfully claustrophobic fashion by director of photography Jarin Blaschke and underscored by Mark Korven's hellish string scrapes and orchestral moanings.

However, as was the case with Stanley Kubrick's seminal 'The Shining' (which Eggers himself has called one of his primary influences), a large proportion of the innate horror of 'The Witch' comes from the unseen, the things which aren't explained. We never fully understand whether the torment that our focal family is suffering is indeed due to malevolent forces or if their fears are, in fact, vicious manifestations of their own obsessional religious beliefs. As it the case with all of the best horror films, it asks more questions than it answers and leaves the viewer to decipher its many complex conundrums.

Anchoring this impending destruction is a terrific cast who all throw themselves into their complex and sometimes troubling roles. 'Game Of Thrones' alumni Ralph Ineson and Kate Dickie are both excellent as the fearsomely devout heads of the family, especially Dickie's bereaved Katherine whose motherly affection and unconditional love quickly turns to panic and righteous despair. The children are also very good here, most notably the young Harvey Scrimshaw whose portrayal of the sensitive Caleb provides 'The Witch' with one of it's most intense and highly disturbing set pieces - a scene of spasmodic convulsions and scriptural wailings that calls to mind both the eponymous ceremony of 'The Exorcism Of Emily Rose' as well as the climatic finale of Robin Hardy's 'The Wicker Man'. However it is Anya Taylor-Joy's spellbinding performance as the troubled adolescent Thomasin, about whom the narrative hypnotically swirls around, that is the real revelation here - a beautifully crafted presence through whose tear-filled eyes the story chaotically unfolds.

What you get from 'The Witch' solely relies on what you, in turn, are willing to give to it. Yes, it may have a lower jump ratio than the more conventional horror fare such as the financially successful Blumhouse productions or the many James Wan projects. But if you stick with it, you will come to discover a brilliantly acted, stunningly directed and utterly chilling study of paranoia and fanaticism that is sure to linger in the darkest reaches of the subconscious long after the film reaches it extraordinary, if not, divisive apotheosis.