The VVitch (2016)
Robert Eggers
"Wouldst thou like to live deliciously?"
I'm just going to get this out of the way right off the bat: The Witch is easily my favorite movie of 2016 and the best movie since There Will Be Blood. And it might even be better.
Emily and I haven't watched it since last year, and we were curious if we'd still be enamored with it, especially since we knew the ending. Turns out, it's just as good the second time around. And that's probably a solid sign of a masterpiece.
The Witch is so sumptuous to look at. Every scene is beautifully set and staged, and the acting is eerily good. It can be hard to craft a 1630's period piece without making it dense beyond all comprehension, or anachronistic to the point of distraction. The Witch somehow strikes the perfect balance: it's difficult dialogue (don't be ashamed to turn on the closed captioning) but the actors perform it with texture and understanding; even the small children.
The two young actors who play the twins almost steal the film. They're creepy and suspicious, with their old timey songs and bizarre games with the family's large billy goat, Black Phillip. They're so natural and never give the audience a hint that they're children from the 2010's: they transform completely into two impish children from the 1630's. It's the best child acting I've ever seen.
And oh my the goat! After the movie, the first thing Emily and I talked about was how great an actor the goat was. We mentioned the same thing on our podcast about the dog in The Thing. I don't think the goat was especially well-trained or anything (in fact, IMDB makes it pretty clear that the goat was a complete pain in the ass to work with), but the patience Robert Eggers has and the skill of his direction allows the goat to become a full character in the film. Black Phillip is unsettling to look at, and seems to always have a knowing look.
The landscapes are wild, the interior sets are dimly lit and claustrophobic, and the costuming is perfect. This isn't so much a period film as it is a portal into 1630. The music is minimalist and understated, taking a cue from The Shining to utilize the soundtrack as a way to set the mood and build tension. Eggers also shows a Kubrickian eye for detail and builds the film to its crescendo with subtlety and craft. It's such a wonderful treat to watch and listen to.
So let's talk about the story of The Witch, which I think is just as compelling as the filmmaking. It's the story of a family from a religious colony in 1630 New England. They are new to the continent, as both the mother and the two older children remember England somewhat fondly throughout the film. It opens with the father (William), mother (Kate) and children (Thomasin, Caleb, Mercy, Jonas and baby Sam) standing tall before the colony's religious elders. William is on trial for his supposedly apostatic interpretation of the New Testament.
This is a very Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God style Puritanical community. Numerous times throughout the film, William makes it very clear that his interpretation of Christianity is one where your fate is decided independent of the deeds you undertake in life, one where babies and children can end up in Hell just as easily as the wicked. The father's belief in the piety of suffering and faith that God will provide to the Godly is what leads them into the wilderness to fend for themselves.
After being on their own for at least a change of a few seasons, the family is clearly struggling. Their crops look unhealthy, meals look sparse, and William informs his children that they will be fasting on certain days. It's a religious excuse for not being able to provide.
During this time, the eldest daughter Thomasin is watching her baby brother Sam behind the house. It's a wonderfully crafted scene with a profoundly dark and disturbing turn:
There aren't many films that are brave or competent enough to pull off a full blown baby slaughter scene within the first 10 minutes, but here we are. Any hope the audience might have that this will be even moderately fun is destroyed, and you're left in this desolate place with intransigent people. Just like Thomasin.
Thomasin's mother blames her for Sam's disappearance, even as William and Caleb believe a wolf took the baby. Thomasin seems to suspect something worse, because she clearly sees no wolf, and the speed with which Sam is taken seems otherworldly. This makes Thomasin our sympathetic character. We know she did nothing evil to Sam, and seemed to love and dote on her baby brother. She didn't choose this life, but is stuck in the wilderness with a mother who now distrusts and loathes her.
The isolation becomes a theme in the film early on. We see no other characters after the beginning of the movie, except in a couple of very notable exceptions. The family lives more than a day's ride from the colony, so there are no other children to play with. There's a scene early on where Caleb wakes up before Thomasin, and before rousing her, looks at her chest with some interest. Isolation, along with emotional repression, are certainly breeding grounds for this kind of aberrant behavior (despite religious conservatives wanting us to believe that permissiveness and loosening social mores is what causes it).
For all the preaching William does about sin and and godliness, he is easily swayed by the opinions of others, all while being too stubborn to admit his failings establishing a life in the wilderness. He's a terrible farmer (the corn he tries to grow is blighted and worthless), and cannot hunt. His only discernable skill is wood-chopping, which he does prodigiously. Emily and my theory is that he may have been a simple laborer in the colony, and had no business attempting to take his family into the wild, except for his pride and stubborn nature.
Out of desperation, William sells Kate's beloved silver cup to a wandering trader for hunting supplies (which he wastes out of disorganization and incompetence), but allows Thomasin to take the fall for losing it. This drives a deeper wedge between Kate and her eldest daughter.
The family continues to struggle both emotionally and physically, and the toll becomes evident on their faces and bodies. William looks gaunt and disheveled, the children never change their shabby clothes, and they have no toys or fine things (William would claim them to be ostentatious and prideful, but the reality is that he cannot provide them). It's a miserable existence for children and adults alike. Both Kate and Thomasin, at different times, long for their life in England.
During one night, Kate discusses sending Thomasin back to the colony to sell her into service to another family. William seems hesitant, but understands that the money would be beneficial and would give him one fewer mouth to feed. By this point, the family's female goat Flora has started giving blood instead of milk. This terrifies the young twins, as they already believe Thomasin to be a witch.
Caleb wakes early the morning after with a secret plan to get some money or food to prevent Thomasin from having to leave the family. Thomasin catches on and travels with Caleb deep into the forest. Down the trail, they come across a sinister looking bunny rabbit (seriously) and their horse is spooked. Thomasin is thrown to the ground unconscious, and Caleb goes into the dark woods after the family dog.
When Thomasin wakes up, the horse and her brother are missing, and her father is shouting her name. When she returns to the family homestead, Kate is beside herself with the prospect of losing another son, but seems to accept Thomasin again in an effort to keep her remaining children with her. Thomasin, trying to please her mother, offers to go outside in a rainstorm to tend to the goats. While she's outside, a naked and tortured Caleb shows up and passes out in her arms.
Suspicion and paranoia is another major theme here. Thomasin, wanting to keep the rambunctious twins in line, tells them that she is a witch and will curse them unless they listen to her. Eventually they divulge this information to their increasingly desperate parents, and Kate is more than willing to believe that her daughter has been seduced by Satan. As Caleb lay dying, the twins claim that they can no longer remember the Lord's prayer, and that Thomasin has vexed them. Despite her efforts to chide them, the twins continue this ruse, eventually falling to the ground and screaming in tongues.
Caleb dying is an interesting scene. As the family prays over him, he goes from anguished nonsense to rapturous pleasure, exclaiming that Christ has come to embrace him and take him. He looks happier than he has at any other point in the film, and dies peacefully and with joy in his heart. For all of their faith and their supernatural beliefs, Kate is devastated, and believes that Caleb is in Hell because he was never baptised. She refuses to believe her son's own vision, preferring instead to suspect Thomasin of cavorting with Satan to undo the family.
(Back to filmcraft for a second, the shot of the parents standing over their son's fresh grave is devastating:)
William confronts Thomasin to determine if she is indeed a witch or a worshiper of Christ. Fearing for her life, Thomasin claims that the twins are the ones conversing with Satan and are the ones vexing the family. William immediately has suspicion of all of his children, and barricades them in the goat pen for the night while he figures out what to do. He's locked by indecision and is coming face-to-face with the costs of his pride, isolation, and paranoia.
I won't spoil the ending, but it's just as shocking as the beginning, and makes perfect sense considering everything you've just seen. What does isolation and suspicion and pride create if not the destruction of community? The most isolated of the characters turns to the only remaining path she has to survive in the wilderness. And who can blame an honest and kind girl who was given nothing by her parents except guilt and suspicion, especially when she's being offered fine food, pretty clothes, and the chance to leave her sheltered existence?
The Witch is a masterpiece of filmmaking and storytelling. If you're looking for the intersection between art and horror, The Witch is exactly where you should start. It's completely engrossing and feels like looking through a portal into the 1600's. Not many films make me feel this way, and it's a perfect movie for the Halloween season. Get the Blu Ray, dim the lights, turn up the volume, and enjoy a true gem of American cinema.
Emily and I haven't watched it since last year, and we were curious if we'd still be enamored with it, especially since we knew the ending. Turns out, it's just as good the second time around. And that's probably a solid sign of a masterpiece.
The Witch is so sumptuous to look at. Every scene is beautifully set and staged, and the acting is eerily good. It can be hard to craft a 1630's period piece without making it dense beyond all comprehension, or anachronistic to the point of distraction. The Witch somehow strikes the perfect balance: it's difficult dialogue (don't be ashamed to turn on the closed captioning) but the actors perform it with texture and understanding; even the small children.
The two young actors who play the twins almost steal the film. They're creepy and suspicious, with their old timey songs and bizarre games with the family's large billy goat, Black Phillip. They're so natural and never give the audience a hint that they're children from the 2010's: they transform completely into two impish children from the 1630's. It's the best child acting I've ever seen.
And oh my the goat! After the movie, the first thing Emily and I talked about was how great an actor the goat was. We mentioned the same thing on our podcast about the dog in The Thing. I don't think the goat was especially well-trained or anything (in fact, IMDB makes it pretty clear that the goat was a complete pain in the ass to work with), but the patience Robert Eggers has and the skill of his direction allows the goat to become a full character in the film. Black Phillip is unsettling to look at, and seems to always have a knowing look.
The landscapes are wild, the interior sets are dimly lit and claustrophobic, and the costuming is perfect. This isn't so much a period film as it is a portal into 1630. The music is minimalist and understated, taking a cue from The Shining to utilize the soundtrack as a way to set the mood and build tension. Eggers also shows a Kubrickian eye for detail and builds the film to its crescendo with subtlety and craft. It's such a wonderful treat to watch and listen to.
So let's talk about the story of The Witch, which I think is just as compelling as the filmmaking. It's the story of a family from a religious colony in 1630 New England. They are new to the continent, as both the mother and the two older children remember England somewhat fondly throughout the film. It opens with the father (William), mother (Kate) and children (Thomasin, Caleb, Mercy, Jonas and baby Sam) standing tall before the colony's religious elders. William is on trial for his supposedly apostatic interpretation of the New Testament.
This is a very Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God style Puritanical community. Numerous times throughout the film, William makes it very clear that his interpretation of Christianity is one where your fate is decided independent of the deeds you undertake in life, one where babies and children can end up in Hell just as easily as the wicked. The father's belief in the piety of suffering and faith that God will provide to the Godly is what leads them into the wilderness to fend for themselves.
After being on their own for at least a change of a few seasons, the family is clearly struggling. Their crops look unhealthy, meals look sparse, and William informs his children that they will be fasting on certain days. It's a religious excuse for not being able to provide.
During this time, the eldest daughter Thomasin is watching her baby brother Sam behind the house. It's a wonderfully crafted scene with a profoundly dark and disturbing turn:
There aren't many films that are brave or competent enough to pull off a full blown baby slaughter scene within the first 10 minutes, but here we are. Any hope the audience might have that this will be even moderately fun is destroyed, and you're left in this desolate place with intransigent people. Just like Thomasin.
Thomasin's mother blames her for Sam's disappearance, even as William and Caleb believe a wolf took the baby. Thomasin seems to suspect something worse, because she clearly sees no wolf, and the speed with which Sam is taken seems otherworldly. This makes Thomasin our sympathetic character. We know she did nothing evil to Sam, and seemed to love and dote on her baby brother. She didn't choose this life, but is stuck in the wilderness with a mother who now distrusts and loathes her.
The isolation becomes a theme in the film early on. We see no other characters after the beginning of the movie, except in a couple of very notable exceptions. The family lives more than a day's ride from the colony, so there are no other children to play with. There's a scene early on where Caleb wakes up before Thomasin, and before rousing her, looks at her chest with some interest. Isolation, along with emotional repression, are certainly breeding grounds for this kind of aberrant behavior (despite religious conservatives wanting us to believe that permissiveness and loosening social mores is what causes it).
For all the preaching William does about sin and and godliness, he is easily swayed by the opinions of others, all while being too stubborn to admit his failings establishing a life in the wilderness. He's a terrible farmer (the corn he tries to grow is blighted and worthless), and cannot hunt. His only discernable skill is wood-chopping, which he does prodigiously. Emily and my theory is that he may have been a simple laborer in the colony, and had no business attempting to take his family into the wild, except for his pride and stubborn nature.
Out of desperation, William sells Kate's beloved silver cup to a wandering trader for hunting supplies (which he wastes out of disorganization and incompetence), but allows Thomasin to take the fall for losing it. This drives a deeper wedge between Kate and her eldest daughter.
The family continues to struggle both emotionally and physically, and the toll becomes evident on their faces and bodies. William looks gaunt and disheveled, the children never change their shabby clothes, and they have no toys or fine things (William would claim them to be ostentatious and prideful, but the reality is that he cannot provide them). It's a miserable existence for children and adults alike. Both Kate and Thomasin, at different times, long for their life in England.
During one night, Kate discusses sending Thomasin back to the colony to sell her into service to another family. William seems hesitant, but understands that the money would be beneficial and would give him one fewer mouth to feed. By this point, the family's female goat Flora has started giving blood instead of milk. This terrifies the young twins, as they already believe Thomasin to be a witch.
Caleb wakes early the morning after with a secret plan to get some money or food to prevent Thomasin from having to leave the family. Thomasin catches on and travels with Caleb deep into the forest. Down the trail, they come across a sinister looking bunny rabbit (seriously) and their horse is spooked. Thomasin is thrown to the ground unconscious, and Caleb goes into the dark woods after the family dog.
When Thomasin wakes up, the horse and her brother are missing, and her father is shouting her name. When she returns to the family homestead, Kate is beside herself with the prospect of losing another son, but seems to accept Thomasin again in an effort to keep her remaining children with her. Thomasin, trying to please her mother, offers to go outside in a rainstorm to tend to the goats. While she's outside, a naked and tortured Caleb shows up and passes out in her arms.
Suspicion and paranoia is another major theme here. Thomasin, wanting to keep the rambunctious twins in line, tells them that she is a witch and will curse them unless they listen to her. Eventually they divulge this information to their increasingly desperate parents, and Kate is more than willing to believe that her daughter has been seduced by Satan. As Caleb lay dying, the twins claim that they can no longer remember the Lord's prayer, and that Thomasin has vexed them. Despite her efforts to chide them, the twins continue this ruse, eventually falling to the ground and screaming in tongues.
Caleb dying is an interesting scene. As the family prays over him, he goes from anguished nonsense to rapturous pleasure, exclaiming that Christ has come to embrace him and take him. He looks happier than he has at any other point in the film, and dies peacefully and with joy in his heart. For all of their faith and their supernatural beliefs, Kate is devastated, and believes that Caleb is in Hell because he was never baptised. She refuses to believe her son's own vision, preferring instead to suspect Thomasin of cavorting with Satan to undo the family.
(Back to filmcraft for a second, the shot of the parents standing over their son's fresh grave is devastating:)
William confronts Thomasin to determine if she is indeed a witch or a worshiper of Christ. Fearing for her life, Thomasin claims that the twins are the ones conversing with Satan and are the ones vexing the family. William immediately has suspicion of all of his children, and barricades them in the goat pen for the night while he figures out what to do. He's locked by indecision and is coming face-to-face with the costs of his pride, isolation, and paranoia.
I won't spoil the ending, but it's just as shocking as the beginning, and makes perfect sense considering everything you've just seen. What does isolation and suspicion and pride create if not the destruction of community? The most isolated of the characters turns to the only remaining path she has to survive in the wilderness. And who can blame an honest and kind girl who was given nothing by her parents except guilt and suspicion, especially when she's being offered fine food, pretty clothes, and the chance to leave her sheltered existence?
Summary:
The Witch is a masterpiece of filmmaking and storytelling. If you're looking for the intersection between art and horror, The Witch is exactly where you should start. It's completely engrossing and feels like looking through a portal into the 1600's. Not many films make me feel this way, and it's a perfect movie for the Halloween season. Get the Blu Ray, dim the lights, turn up the volume, and enjoy a true gem of American cinema.
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