Spooktober III Review 7: The Wicker Man

The Wicker Man (1973)
Robin Hardy

"And what of the true God? Whose glory, churches, and monasteries have been built on these islands for generations past? Now sir, what of Him?"

"He's dead. Can't complain, had his chance, and in modern parlance, blew it."

My favorite thing about The Wicker Man, besides its pure 1970's-ness, is how despite the unrelenting weirdness of the townsfolk on Summerisle, you want to drop everything, charter a boat, and live with them forever. A governmental system based solely around Christopher Lee? Yes. Nude bonfires? Check. Dancing around a phallic maypole while singing about seed? Oh yes. Drunken revelry at the pub singing about the joys of being with the landlord's daughter (who has herself joined in with the song)? You better believe it. Fertility rituals that are little more than public sex romps under the moon? Sign me up.

In fact, the only person who doesn't want to take part in any of the fun is our protagonist and…hero(?) Sgt. Howie.

This was my first time seeing the original Wicker Man, although I remember asking my dad about it at Blockbuster Video in the 90's and having him give some noncommittal response about it. The cover is extremely cool, but this really isn't a movie for children. Not because of the nudity or the shocking ending, but because it's really not paced for those with shorter attention spans. There's a lot of talking, subtext, and subtle weirdness, rather than big action set-pieces or buckets of gore.

Two years ago for the original Spooktober movie marathon, I watched the Nicholas Cage remake to my profound delight. Not because it's any good, mind you; it's one of the worst studio movies ever made. But it's funny. Very, very funny. It loses all of the charm, genius, and subtlety of the original, but it does add bees and Nic Cage punching a woman while wearing a bear suit. And I guess it kept the basic plot intact, so I knew more or less what to expect getting into the original.

That's a weird way to see a movie, by the way: being well versed in the shitty remake before seeing the classic OG version.

What's it about: A Scottish police officer (our brave boy Sergeant Howie) receives an anonymous letter from the mysterious Scottish island of Summerisle regarding a missing young girl named Rowan. Howie flies himself to the island to investigate the matter further, only to find that all the islanders deny knowledge of Rowan, including the girl's supposed mother. Beset on all sides by sexual promiscuity and pagan rituals, the uptight and very Christian Howie does not relent, and digs deeper and deeper to discover the true mystery of the island and its people. It, um, does not go well for him.

What's interesting: I feel bad that I keep doing this, but pretty much everything.

A lot of The Wicker Man is unintentionally funny, only because it's like someone triple distilled the 1970's and injected the resultant syrup directly into your brain. The clothing, the sets, the music, it's all a bizarre 70's film pastiche that has forever been lost to time. But this only helps accentuate the oddness of the whole situation, especially as the film ages. I'm sure more prudish audiences in the day thought it was sleazy exploitation bordering on softcore pornography, but now it feels a bit like Howie (whose police uniform seems relatively unchanged by more modern standards) has really stepped into a bizarre world that time forgot, or that never even existed.

This is a 1970's atmospheric horror film, through and through, but the wonderful twist here is it's really only horrifying for Howie, especially at the end. Our faithful sergeant is a virgin, believing firmly that he should not have sex before marriage, and is a devout Christian. He's initially repulsed by the bawdy nature of the townsfolk, but quickly becomes existentially wounded as he realizes that they're not just weird island townies, but full-blown pagan heretics who worship some nameless, faceless "old Gods." He stumbles upon weirdness at every turn, and resists the temptation to take part in their rituals. At one point, the landlord's daughter sings a five minute long song to try and entice him to come to her room for a little earthly delight which nearly drives him mad with lust. He's able to keep it together with all of the repressive self-denial he can muster, but it was a difficult process.

Unwilling or unable to take the islanders at face value and (as every social work student learns) meet them where they are, Howie considers his investigation tantamount to a crusade of good vs. evil. He's in wordless disbelief when he stops by the island's schoolhouse to inquire about Rowan with her classmates, and overhears the teacher discussing penises, seed, and fertility rites. He considers this bunk science, and chides the teacher for not explaining proper biology and theology to the children. He openly and routinely admonishes the islanders for their behavior and beliefs. He yucks their yum something fierce.

Howie takes his indignation all the way up to the man himself, Lord Summerisle (played amazingly by Christopher Lee), engaging in ontological debate with him, half hoping to get a satisfactory answer about Rowan's disappearance, and half to take the hedonistic leader of these godless pagans down a peg. His Lordship doesn't bite, however, and points out the fallacy of Howie's own beliefs. 

In a discussion about why children would be leaping naked over a bonfire, Summerisle explains, 1) you'd never jump over a fire with clothes on. That would be far too dangerous. And 2) it's teaching the children a valuable lesson about parthenogenesis. Howie scoffs, exclaiming that the children should be learning about Jesus and biology, but Summerisle quickly points out that Jesus himself was born quite asexually to a virgin mother. Sgt. Howie, just by being a good Christian, is maybe not the most sophisticated or intelligent person here, despite what he may think.

In one of the film's most important scenes, Howie (and the audience) get a lesson about the history of Summerisle. Up until a century before this tale, the island was a downtrodden place filled with wretched people eking out a hardscrabble existence from the sea. One of Summerisle's ancestors came to the island with a new cultivar of hearty fruit (namely apples) that would do well in the sea air. In order to get buy in from the island dwellers (and to tap into their labor) he said that if they worshiped the old gods once more, they would have year after year of bountiful harvest. So the old traditions came back, and the harvests were highly successful.

So the truth of the matter is that Lord Summerisle knows that the pagan rituals are meaningless, but he has to keep up the appearances regardless, lest he lose his power and his labor pool for his lucrative fruit orchards. Plus it gives him certain privileges of power, especially among such a promiscuous populace.

Along the way, we are given hints that things are not so bountiful this year. On a wall in the pub, there are decades and decades worth of pictures from harvest festivals of years past, but the one for the previous fall is suspiciously missing. When Howie eats dinner at the pub, all of his food is canned, including the fruit he orders for dessert. Maybe the old gods have forsaken the land, or maybe the warm currents of the Atlantic cooled off this year. Either way, something's amiss, and to Howie, these pagans seem capable of anything, including sacrificing Rowan to ensure a better harvest.

*spoilers ahead for a 40 year old movie*

The culmination of Howie's investigation leads him to take part in the island's May Day ritual, where he dresses up like the character Punch, and frolics about with all of the pagans he despises so deeply. He even kind of gets into it, empowered by his anonymity, and uses his balloon to spank several young girls on their butts as they dance around him. Eventually the parade ends at the sacrificial site, and Rowan is standing there preparing for her duty. Howie punches one of the islanders, takes off his mask, and leads Rowan to safety.

Or so he thinks, because the whole thing, from the very start, has been a ploy to get Howie to be a sacrifice of his own free will. In order for the sacrifice to truly matter, they needed a man carrying out the orders of a King, who would come of his own free will, who was a virgin, and who was a fool. 

Argh! If only he'd had sex with the comely innkeeper's daughter!

As one final "fuck you," Lord Summerisle extols Howie to look on the bright side: he's being martyred, which in his religion is like the best possible thing. How could you be upset with that? Howie points out, probably astutely, that when the crops fail again this year, the islanders will turn to the only one left on the island worth sacrificing: Lord Summerisle himself.

But for now, the only thing that matters is that Howie burns in a giant wicker man, and the old gods be appeased. And boy does he burn. Screaming and praying to his god who leaves him to die in that terribly wicked place.

The brilliance of this film is that Howie's tragedy is that he won't give in to temptation and carnal desires. Most stories reward the true and virtuous, but not here on Summerisle. His purity is his ultimate downfall.

Other films I thought of: The remake, unfortunately. I'll probably have to rewatch that at some point, just so I can be offended to my core by its existence. But beyond that, the original Wicker Man really is in a league of its own.

Miscellany: There are two particular things that stuck out to me from this film. First is this song:

It plays about 40 times throughout the film, and never stops being weird and funny. I guess it's adapted from a Robert Burns poem, but was set to music by some long haired folk hippie just for this film, and it's absolutely perfect. At one point in the film it started playing yet again, and Emily had a minor meltdown. I've been hooting out "CORN RIGS AND BARLEY RIGS" for days.

Actually, all of the music in The Wicker Man is extremely 70's and weird. And every song is about sex. 

The second is Sgt. Howie's reaction to finally seeing the Wicker Man. The actor who played him (Edward Woodward) said he did not want to see the titular sacrificial alter prior to his character, and his exclamation is one of genuine shock (especially considering Woodward was about to be locked inside of it while it was really set ablaze):

It's a great read by Woodward, because I think on some level his character is finally starting to get fed up with the lack of intervention and providence his God has provided. But really, he should have just had sex!

And a bonus: there's also a great Fargo-esque touch at the beginning of the film, when a title card appears thanking Lord Summerisle and the islanders for allowing the filmmakers to witness their beliefs. It's a tongue-in-cheek joke, but is also a hint at the culturally sensitive attitude Howie probably should have adopted when he arrived.

Recommendation: 100%. This is something that every film lover should see, at least once. It's filmmaking from an era that is long dead and will never return, and is chock full of amazing performances and set pieces. It's a very non-traditional horror movie, but that's a good thing! Can't recommend it enough.

Remarkably Good (eventually I'll hate something, I promise)