One of genre cinema’s biggest classics meets its 50th anniversary this year. Within these past five decades, the already beloved hit has managed to soar further than ever and gain a reputation that many films can only dream of. The grand slam in question is none other than Robin Hardy’s The Wicker Man (1973).
The Wicker Man follows Sergeant Howie (Edward Woodward) as he lands on the grounds of Summerisle, a small Scottish island, to investigate the disappearance of a child. Howie’s puritan ways are tested after being shocked at the Islander’s worship of pagan Celtic gods and behaving in an open frivolous manner, leading Howie to suspect that something suspicious lurks around the corner.
This eerie, dark, and bewitching descent into the greatest monster of them all, humanity, is a momentous feat in the world of folk horror, the genre responsible for creating the most haunting of films. In an ode to classic folk horror, The Wicker Man battles with evil grounds, sordid land and its lust for sacrifice. The 1970s hit thrives in these quintessential folkloric themes that have been utilised and weaponised for decades, yet rather than the film weaken overtime with multiple watches; it manages only to get better, which is equally thanks to the stellar performances and the film‘s unique method of building fear.
Production began in the early ‘70’s after the film’s screenwriter Anthony Shaffer and acclaimed actor/ Hammer Horror legend Christopher Lee began discussing the potential to collaborate on a film that went against the grain of the popular trend of ‘monster movies’. Soon joining Lee and Shaffer was the eventual director Robin Hardy, who was more than on board with creating a horror film surrounding cult and mythology. Looking for inspiration, Shaffer brought David Pinner’s 1967 novel Ritual to the table, which chronicled a religious police officer who travels to a small village looking to solve a sacrificial murder. After negotiations, Pinner sold the rights and production ensued.
For any ‘Ritual’ fans, it may be noted that The Wicker Man is not a direct adaption of the book, but more of a starting point, with the film, eventually forming into a tale about the woes and intrigue of paganism. The Wicker Man poses that the screen did not need to be filled with blood, guts, and gore to obtain a genuinely horrifying response from its audience. Instead, the terror alludes to the animalistic and horrific nature of the Summerisle residents. The film raises its atmosphere solely through methods of intent and interpretation, letting the viewer’s imagination conjure it. Despite how unnerving The Wicker Man’s conclusion may be, the lasting atmosphere is not one of disgust but deep-seated fear and trepidation that the most peaceful environments hold the darkest secrets.
With Lee already on board, they needed to cast the role of Sergeant Howie, the hard-mannered officer. When actors Michael York and David Hemmings declined the role, the reputable television actor Edward Woodward was welcomed onboard. With a solid story and an even sturdier cast under its belt, The Wicker Man began filming mainly along the Scottish coast before wrapping up and editing, which is a whole story within its own right…
From a contemporary perspective, many can confirm that The Wicker Man is a ‘perfect’ movie with no noticeable flaws. However, the post-production indeed travelled across rocky terrain. The studio, British Lion Films, had bought the film, and after seeing the ‘burning man’ conclusion, they demanded heavy cuts to the ending as Howie’s death was too horrid to put on screen. They suggested that the scene should continue, but instead, halfway through, a sudden downpour should occur in which the rainstorm puts out the fire. Luckily enough, the crew outright refused to make this edit and instead negotiated to cut out roughly twenty minutes of build-up scenes.
Adding to the turbulent release journey was the film’s lost footage. After the film had been released, Hardy was determined to restore his vision to its original edit, seeking the complete, original footage to restore it fully. However, he was informed that the negatives were lost, that is, until director Roger Corman (and one of the previous potential distributors) still had a copy, saving the day and leading to a ninety-six-minute version being released in 1979. As time has gone on, multiple versions have been released – an extended cut released by Canal+ in 2001, a limited edition signed version from Anchor Bay in 2005, and most recently, The Final Cut from StudioCanal, which Hardy described as one of the most accurate representations of what he wished The Wicker Man was when it was first released. Unfortunately, the exact carbon copy and precise original cut still have not been found, but that does not hinder what we already have.
With all of the commotion and re-edits, where does The Wicker Man stand 50 years later?
The Wicker Man boomed onto the scene with reviews from prestigious outlets, including Variety, The New York Times, and Los Angeles Times, all praising the film’s slow-burning dread and evocative atmosphere. Decades later, distinguished sources such as Empire and The Guardian ranked the film as one of the best horror movies ever, and for a good reason. The film is not only a genre-defining piece of cinema, a folk horror classic, and a definitive part of British film and media; it is also an intense, burdensome, and wholly unhinged example of how aura and a menacingly slow buildup can leave a lingering mark of fear that does not rely on jumpscares, but our own worst enemy – the imagination.
There are multiple ways to read The Wicker Man, which are all equally frightening. There’s the aspect of nurturing nature, feeding the land souls to prevent disruption. Then there is the religious perspective, where one could comment on how the film elicits fear based on the infatuation of high powers and cults, leading to the abandonment of moralities to serve a spectral being. And then there is the more sinister realisation – forget about individualising fear within the sins of the land, forgo the collective power of cult thinking. What truly makes The Wicker Man claw at the viewer’s skin and then nestle its horror within their being is how mundane the film portrays monstrosity to be. Recalling back to early production stages, Lee, Shaffer, and Hardy wanted the uncanny to thrive amidst a background of sincerity where there were no ghosts, zombies, or knife-wielding maniacs. The horror needed to come from within the Summerisle residents’ souls, not via a weapon or some dressed-up ghoul. The film’s manifesto speaks to the horror within the everyday, an apparent typical atmosphere that holds unearthly secrets. The Wicker Man makes you uncomfortable and on edge from the very first moment. However, it is not until the very last scene that our suspicions are confirmed, and an epiphany reveals itself.
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Robin HardyÕs THE WICKER MAN (1973). Courtesy: Rialto Pictures/ Studiocanal
Robin Hardy’s THE WICKER MAN (1973). Courtesy: Rialto Pictures/ Studiocanal
The lens of folk cinema captures the evil beneath the soil that haunts the land and infects those who rebel against it. Those unfortunate souls who dare taint the grounds suffer greatly, leaving devastation in its wake and causing hysteria and havoc amongst worried souls, simultaneously cultivating rich growth for the horror in lore, myth, and legends. It is an alarming yet alluring ethos that propagates the success of folk horror.
Over the years, folk horror has seen a significant boom in popular horror cinema, with the likes of The VVitch (2015) and Midsommar (2019) and the equally successful but far more underrated Kill List (2011) and The Ritual (2017). With these films holding supreme status in modern horror, a deep dive into the origins of the folk horror subgenre has never been more pertinent.
Where to begin…
Folk horror holds its roots in nearly every country. It isn’t easy to pinpoint a specific religion that holds the key to folk cinema, with the genre belonging to many cultures. Folk derives from folklore, translating to individualised mythology from various societies. What has become known in mainstream media as ‘folk horror’ with all of its iconography and archetypal symbolism is, at the crux, derivative from British lore. For example, the bones of folk horror that audiences have come to know and love today are birthed from Pagan rituals; it’s the profound meaning of life and death, the cycles of nature, and the importance of worshipping a higher power that amalgamates with the genres eerie rhetoric that provides such influential works.
The Unholy Trinity
Every reign of horror has its champions. Folk horror’s genre-defining entries can be found in The Unholy Trinity, consisting of Witchfinder General (1968), The Blood on Satan’s Claw (1971) and The Wicker Man (1973). Mark Gattis first coined the term in the BBC docu-series A History of Horror in 2010, which was soon adopted as the official definition of folk horror’s primary instigators. Each entry into the Trinity is entirely unique and somewhat different from one other despite their blanketing together (which can be quite the metaphor for how broad the scope is on folk cinema).
Michael Reeves’s Witchfinder General chronicles the self-appointed witch-hunter Matthew Hopkins (Vincent Price), following his misdeeds throughout small rural villages across East Anglia. The cruel barbarism that follows in the wake of Hopkin’s actions creates a structure that can only be described as a mob-like ruling where sovereignty is not earned and equally placed but instead stolen by whoever holds the most power. Witchfinder General depicts Hopkins as he storms in and does not simply command authority but instead takes it from his victims.
British folk horror storylines thrive in the social divide seen in the likes of Witchfinder General; the films allude to how the most significant threat does not strictly adhere to paranormal entities and ghoulish ghosts; instead, it’s the same civilisation that one belongs to. This essence of fearing your fellow neighbour and evil lying within the home is further explored in Piers Haggard’s The Blood on Satan’s Claw.
The motivations behind much of the folk horror seen in the mid-1970s surrounded the hippie counterculture that dominated the landscape during that time. The decade saw a rise in young people declaring a belief system that went against the common consensus. They protested the war, dabbled in the increasingly popular substances arriving in the common market, and openly expressed the desire to change the system. The Blood on Satan’s Claw follows a group of young people in a small village being overcome and possessed by the devil himself after a skull is found underneath the town’s ground.
The cult of demon-worshipping children is shown infiltrating and recruiting other members to the group until eventually banding together to cause ultimate destruction. The film can be easily read as an on-screen recreation of the disharmony that was arising at the time, with the notion of sudden societal uproar being one of the critical themes of the film.
Out of the trinity and the entire catalogue of British folk horror, one of the most crucial, successful, and effective films has to be The Wicker Man. Robin Hardy’s classic follows the residents of Summerisle as they complete a ritualistic sacrifice for the land to ensure a fruitful harvest. The Wicker Man remains the most influential folk film and one of the most important horror films in general across British cinema. Throughout the film, the main character is Summerisle. It’s a symbolic living and breathing organism that devotes itself to the people, and in return, the residents nourish it with sacrificial flesh, blood and bones.
Beyond The Unholy Trinity
Amidst the horticulture of the well-renowned Trinity was a string of TV specials that have become ingrained in the thesis of British folk horror. Television, possibly more so than cinema, is entirely reflective of its audience. Britain is known for its blunt and bleak outlooks and humour, meaning that much of the fictitious media to come from the country relies on the nation’s unique nihilistic framings.
Whistle and I’ll Come to You (1968), Penda’s Fen (1974) and Red Shift (1978) are just some of the many television specials that captured Britain’s gloomy atmosphere with the traditional folkloric spirit. With these television specials also came a form of notoriety that allowed folk horror to be available to a broader audience than film allowed. When speaking of the times, not everyone had the time or ability to go to the cinema and view these fantastical folk films. However, many had access to a television set where these spooky entries would interrupt the standard Saturday night entertainment specials to display the most tempered and sinister of frights.
It was a time of paranoia, with the events in the news being scarier than any film or book anyone could have ever witnessed. With this, a level of immunity was stripped back, children would walk past paper stalls with the sinister headlines in full sight, and the daily news report would blare on the radio over breakfast. The presence of these shows was momentous. It was a chance for ghastly stories to enter the home and invade the keep calm and carry on attitude. Folk horror uses the presence of rural locations, familiar faces, and supposedly ‘quaint’ bonds as a vessel for actual, brutal disharmony to break through. The prettiest village harboured the most terrible secrets; ancient curses lay underneath the silent fields, and the longheld family unit could be disrupted anytime.
Today’s context
Folk horror has never been more alive. The messages and symbolism seen in the likes of the Trinity still resonate from a contemporary perspective. For example, The Wicker Man is celebrating its 50-year anniversary this year, yet its connotations are more significant now than ever. With every harvest, the Summerisle residents must offer a human sacrifice to appease the ground’s thirst. In its rawest form, the film’s discourse surrounds how society’s actions profoundly affect earthly structures; the soil beneath us is not forgiving and requires care. Similarly, if we take a look at the whole Trinity, the entire pathology of every film can be sourced back to how the ecological landscape holds great power, and with great power comes a right to respect.
This aspect of the Anthropocene is and will always be a landmark in understanding folk horror. The relationship between land and human intervention is at the heart of many folk entries. As The Wicker Man implies, the people no longer live on Summerisle as simple occupants. They are intrinsically connected to the land. They must offer a sacrifice; otherwise, their well-being will wither with the ground beneath them.
Legacy
Folk horror has birthed an entire subset of movies. Even films that do not necessarily fall into the lines of folk horror weaponise the standard folk format to convey its harrowing message. Take, for example, In the Tall Grass, the 2019 horror based on Joe Hill and Stephen King’s 2012 novella. The film implies that crops hold some form of supernatural power over those who dare to step foot on the land. Even The Blair WItch Project (1999) has a folkloric undertone, with the group of explorers being purposefully misled in a forest due to a presence that controls the woodland. Akin to nature itself, folk horror is everywhere, it’s inescapable and has never been more potent.
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Dead Northern takes a look at the big horror film anniversaries of 2023, which films will be on on your re-watch list?
1- Night of the Living Dead (Directed by George A. Romero, 1968) – 55th Anniversary
It can easily be said that without Romero’s Night of the Living Dead, the well-exercised zombie era would not be the same as it is today. This socially conscious story ignited a spark for the genre that would inspire many influential future filmmakers, including Edgar Wright and James Gunn. Romero’s classic will be celebrating its 55th birthday this year. Despite the time that had passed, this zombie extravaganza very much lives on to this day, with the film offering key paraphernalia that is paramount in any modern zombie feature.
2- The Wicker Man (Directed by Robin Hardy, 1973) – 50th Anniversary
The Wicker Man belongs to the Unholy Trinity of folk horror, along with Witchfinder General (1968) and The Blood on Satan’s Claw (1971) depicting rural picturesque scenes amongst utterly sinister crowds. The Wicker Man has captivated audiences for 50 years now. Not that this figure is easily believed considering how timeless Hardy’s countryside horror is. Perhaps it’s the performances by Edward Woodward, Christopher Lee, and Britt Ekland that make The Wicker Man the iconic film that it is. Or maybe it’s the endless displays of brooding tensions that culminate in an unforgettable finale that keep the film’s acclaimed flame lit. Either way, The Wicker Man is far from being forgotten, and it’s highly doubtful that it ever will be.
3- The Exorcist (Directed by William Friedkin, 1973) – 50th Anniversary
The Exorcist is one of the most colloquially known horror films across the globe and one of the few frightening features that garnered admiration from the Academy Awards. Friedkin’s tale of possession, demons and a genre-defining depiction of evils have granted The Exorcist a beloved place within cinema. However, this firm favourite was not without its controversy. During its initial release, there had been countless reports of fainting and nausea, ensuring the film’s banning in the UK for 11 years.
4- Sleepaway Camp (Directed by Robert Hiltzik, 1983) – 40th Anniversary.
Summer slashers are known for their camp (both figurative and literal) splatter-fests, with films such as Sleepaway Camp dominating this bloody, sunny, and very much ‘forward’ subgenre of horror. Sleepaway Camp delivers an impeccably entertaining storyline of a whodunit amidst a summer campsite, with plenty of extremely gnarly kills featuring along the way. However, if there is one thing that makes this 40-year-old film a classic, it is the iconic ending that will leave your jaw on the floor for a very, very long time.
5- Videodrome (Directed by David Cronenberg, 1983) – 40th Anniversary
If there is one thing Cronenberg is known for, it’s his exuberantly horrifying filmography that refuses to shy the camera away, instead directing the frame to be as visceral and infringing as possible. An excellent example of a pure Cronenberg gem that has stood the test of time (for 40 years now) is Videodrome, which is very much a body horror through to the bone. Working alongside the icky displays of gratuitous practical effects is the science fiction plot that transports the viewer into another dimension where morals are tested and the terrifying illusions of surreality are left to run riot.
6- Killer Klowns from Outer Space (Directed by Stephen Chiodo, 1988) – 35th Anniversary
On paper, the story of extraterrestrial creatures with clown-like appearances invading a small town should not work. However, there is something so hilarious and entertaining about watching alien clowns wielding popcorn guns, going absolutely berzerk on screen. Killer Klowns rivets in the absurd, which is wholeheartedly aided by the impressive practical effects that are an absolute testament to the creativity seen within 1980s horror.
7- Ringu (Directed by Hideo Nakata, 1998) – 25th Anniversary
Ringu is responsible for the nightmares of pretty much every audience member ever since its release 25 years ago. This timeless classic belongs to the long line of technology-based terrors, which is seeing a resurgence in the current horror domain. Ringu revels in the brooding terror of slow-burn horror that takes its time in building up to a horrifying conclusion, as well as introducing one of the genre’s most chilling creatures to ever meet the screen.
8- House of 1000 Corpses (Directed by Rob Zombie, 2003) – 20th Anniversary
Rob Zombie has garnered a slightly unbalanced reputation in the horror scene, with many believing his music to be better than his filmography. However, one film from his wide selection that many can agree on being an utter bonanza of cruel fun is House of 1000 Corpses. Not only is this the feature where Captain Spaudling (Sid Haig) made his mark, but it is also where Zombie showed off his extravagant style, with the film revelling in grindhouse cinema aesthetics. This now 20-year-old film is still as hyped today as it was upon its initial release, with its fanbase securing the film as a cult classic.
9- Wrong Turn (Directed by Rob Schmidt, 2003) – 20th Anniversary
During the early 2000s, a ‘new-ish’ type of horror film dominated the genre – a neo-slasher/ cabin in the woods-esque style of feature. It is difficult to determine a definitive answer, but many will refer to these films simply as the ‘early 2000s’. A Kickstarter and iconic entry into this market was Wrong Turn, which reaches its 20th anniversary this year. Wrong Turn thrives in the sheer gravitas of the Appalachian Mountains to display gruesome scenes of cannibalism, dismemberments, and the usual graphic debaucheries seen in teen horror.
10- Martyrs (Directed by Pascal Laugier, 2008) – 15th Anniversary
Many only watch Martyrs once as this gritty gem exudes such graphic levels of torture and violence that most deem it ‘sick and twisted’. This mainstream-extreme horror is a significant player within the New French Extremity paradigm that aims to shock and startle every step along the way. As Martyrs reaches its 15th year of disturbing audiences, its connotations remain stringent, with the film’s visceral displays of exploitations aiming to comment upon the wider discourse of immortality and pain.
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1. Shaun of the Dead (Directed by Edgar Wright (2004)
The lives of aimless salesman Shaun (Simon Pegg) and his do-nothing roommate Ed (Nick Frost) are turned upside down when a zombie apocalypse hits the streets of London.
Burrowing itself as one of Britain’s most iconic films is Edgar Wright’s Shaun of the Dead, a gory zombie mashup with a classic sentiment and enough one-liners to get even stone-faced viewers a right belly laugh. The world Wright establishes from the get go is dull and monotonous, giving Shaun and Ed’s habits a paint-by-numbers feel. Even after the first zombie appearance nothing much changes, they ‘keep mum’ about the severity of the literal apocalypse. Although the humour thrives in the humdrum moments, what keeps the script fresh is the continuous trajectories that Wright throws in the mix.
The original strategy for Shaun’s zombie action plan is to go to his mum’s (Penelope Wilton), kill his snobby step-father (Bill Nighy), grab his disgruntled girlfriend Liz (Kate Ashfield), then “go to The Winchester, have a nice cold pint, and wait for all of this to blow over”- if that doesn’t ring true to the good ole’ British spirit then I don’t know what does! Overtime Shaun of the Dead has done nothing but continue to defy everyone’s expectations for both British cinema and horror, with the film even featuring in the likes of Stephen King and Quentin Tarantino’s top film’s lists, and that’s not to mention the fact that the Zombie Godfather himself George A. Romero was so impressed that he gave Wright and Pegg a cameo role in Land of the Dead (2005).
2.The Wicker Man (Directed by Robin Hardy, 1973)
Sergeant Howie (Edward Woodward) lands on the grounds of Summerisle, a small Scottish island, to investigate the disappearance of a child. Howie’s puritan ways are tested after being shocked at the Islander’s worship of pagan Celtic gods and behaving in an open frivolous manner, leading Howie to suspect that something suspicious lurks around the corner.
British folk horror has seeded its way through the roots of classic cinema with the assistance from The Unholy Trinity- Witchfinder General (1968), Blood on Satan’s Claw (1971), and The Wicker Man (1973) with the latter being a distinctly respected piece of British cinema. In the early 1970s, writer Anthony Shaffer read the novel Ritual (David Pinner), detailing the events of a Christian police officer investigating a supposed ritualistic murder in a small village. Shaffer and Robin Hardy decided to use the novel as a source to create a horror focused upon old religion to contrast against the flow of Hammer horrors being released; lead Christopher Lee was also keen on breaking away from his archetypal Hammer roles.
Over the production course, it was decided that the film would stay away from graphic violence and gore as a focus on visceral material was not the method they wanted to adopt as their fear provoker. Hardy wanted a slow burning sense of doom to gradually unveil itself within the viewer, bubbling up an atmosphere of complete dread where we know that something terrible is going to happen, but are unaware of the when and where’s. And that’s precisely what was achieved. The Wicker Man has an earthy quality, one whose quiet tension is sown from the first scene, brewing a disconcerting air of trepidation and awe over the alarming exposition and dark landscapes.
3. Eden Lake (Directed by James Watkins, 2008)
School teacher Jenny (Kelly Reilly), and her boyfriend Steve (Michael Fassbender), take a trip to a remote lake in the English countryside to spend a romantic weekend together. However, a group of delinquent teens takes their chaos a step too far, resulting in a bloody fight for survival.
Eden Lake is a rough and gritty story that uses contemporary moral panics against a muddy backdrop to expel a level of savageness that rings back to classics such as Straw Dogs (1971) and Deliverance (1972). James Watkins works at a fast pace to immediately portray Jenny and Steve to be wholesome and soppy, far from the violent criminals they’ll be running from. Whilst the plot is being thickened we are lulled into siding with the couple. During this Watkin subtly plants in elements that foreshadow their fates. For example, instead of enjoying a chill evening in a beer garden, they are surrounded by screaming kids who are way up past their bedtime, followed by angered parents slapping the littluns. It may not be much, but from the getgo, a divide is created.
During the mid to late 2000s, every news channel and paper would have a feature on rising violence amongst adolescents, raising the alarm over the knife crime epidemic, but rather than give admittance over how these problems are created due to social and generational issues, the blame would be placed on ‘hoodies’ and grime music. Filmmakers such as Watkins employ the worries of Broken Britain to create a film that makes you feel morally conflicted and worrisome. Collaborating with the commentary is the film’s genuinely frightful nature. The woods have birthed an incredible setup for horror to thrive, with the dark trees casting haunting shadows and exuding a sense of isolation. Eden Lake tactically positions us alongside Jenny and Steve in the hardened wilderness, knowing that like them we are all alone amongst the terror.
4. 28 Days Later (Directed by Danny Boyle, 2002)
Cillian Murphy in “28 Days Later” (Photo by Sundance/WireImage)
A team of animal rights activists clumsily free a chimpanzee infected with the Rage virus which causes its host to go into a zombified uncontrollable rage. Four weeks later, Jim (Cillian Murphy) awakes from a coma, not knowing that civilization has come to an end. Whilst hastily discovering what’s happened he runs into a group of survivors and travels with them to a supposed safe haven.
The scene is the early 2000s, slow brooding zombies have held the spotlight for long enough, it’s time for rapid, furious, rabid zombies to rule the platform. By nature zombies are abject, their entire basis repulses, what with their drooling mouths and mangled decaying skin. When combined with the fact that the infected can climb and race, a terrifying recipe for fear is created. Danny Boyle knows how to alert our darkest anxieties, and 28 Days Later rivets and rolls to sharply hone in on that white-knuckle terror from the very first scene.
The setting avails use of the desolate grounds of the skeletal London town and dispiriting countryside as a terror provoking instrument that contrasts against the quick-paced camerawork and of course the zooming undead themselves. Adding to the intense pandemonium created in 28 Days Later is the panic-inducing score composed by John Murphy. The soundtrack continuously blasts synthesised electric drones that faintly mimic the air raid signals which would have gone off within those 28 days of the apocalypse. All of these elements, from the widescaped cinematography and booming score, to the heated performances and crazed zombies all meld together to create an unmissable showstopper.
5. The Devils (Directed by Ken Russell, 1971)
In 17th-century France, Father Grandier (Oliver Reed) attempts to protect the city of Loudun from the corruption-fueled establishment run by Cardinal Richelieu (Christopher Logue).
Ken Russell was a known agitator of the BBFC, igniting feuds amongst movie-goers over the graphic content of many of his films, and The Devils really take the honours for being not only one of his most controversial films but also a conqueror in 1970s banned British cinema. A large part of the contention resides with the themes of promiscuity painted upon a religious foreground, highlighting hierarchical abuse structures within worship and Rusell’s conscious wielding of distasteful, excess debaucheries. The Devils lewd principles take centre stage and become entirely inescapable, luckily enough the horror aspects are not covered up by the excess vulgarity. Plague-infested bodies being dumped into a limb pit, self-mutilation, and maggots sliming out of skull sockets are just some of the ghastly imagery that audiences are subjected to, thrusting the film into a dark territory that drives out a panicked and tense reaction.
6. Dog Soldiers (Directed by Neil Marshall, 2002)
A small squad of soldiers attend a mission in the Scottish highlands against a Special Air Service unit. Morning comes and they come across the unit’s sprawled apart remains, pushing the conclusion that someone or more like something is after them.
Neil Marshall forgoes a cosmopolitan setting and characters in favour of occupying the screen with rural land and pragmatic characters that waft an essence of realist brutalism throughout a fantastical storyline. Furthering the tough as nails exhibition is the apt lack of dramatics surrounding the werewolf’s existence. Marshall has stated that the werewolves purposefully do not have a lore background or curse-infused reasoning for their being.
The werewolves’ tall, gangly stature is enough to be absolutely nerve-wracking, especially when they bare their protruding fangs ready to sink into their prey’s unlucky flesh. The maximization of terror actually comes from an unexpected place, the humorous dialogue. Witty quips such as “We are now up against live, hostile targets. So, if Little Red Riding Hood should show up with a bazooka and a bad attitude, I expect you to chin the bitch” have the audience cracking up, but rather than linger in the comedy Marshall exploits the fact that our guard is down and uses the settled mood to throw in unexpected lashes of gore and frights, shaking the expectations of the audience. Dog Soldiers both mopped the floor with many creature features and created the blueprints for many werewolf films to come.
7. Kill List (Directed by Ben Wheatley, 2011)
Jay (Neil Maskell) and Gal (Michael Smiley) served together in the forces, creating a strong bond. Eight months have passed since they left an unspecified disastrous assignment, leaving Jay mentally scarred, making him unable to work. After an argument between Jay and his wife Shel (MyAnna Buring) over money worries he joins Gal in a contracted job to kill a list of people.
Ben Wheatley over the years has created some true standout British horror’s including Sightseers (2012) and A Field in England (2013), and most recently In the Earth (2021). Kill List unveils Wheatley’s naturalistic filmmaking methods in a remarkably raw manner that inflames a deep level of disturbance amongst the viewer, guaranteeing a hold over them for long after watching. Joining his fervent displays of provocation are the award worthy performances from Michael Smiley, MyAnna Buring, and Neil Maskell who all bring such ferocity and realness to their characters that it’s nearly impossible to tell that they’re actors and not the actual people they are portraying.
Kill List somehow goes both full throttle and gentle within its storytelling, with the subtle elements of something darker lurking amidst the surface, whilst also pushing frenzied chaos into the frame. This perplexing balance is even more advanced by the unpredictability of Jay and Gal’s actions, pronouncing the ambiguous nature of events and the slight art-house style that Wheatley adopts.
8. Prevenge (Directed by Alice Lowe, 2016)
Pregnant widow Ruth (Alice Lowe) loses her partner in an unfortunate climbing accident, leaving her alone. Shortly after, she begins to hear her baby talking, convincing Ruth to exact revenge on anyone involved in his death.
Alice Lowe’s directorial debut is an absolute shocker of a film. Prevenge is literal proof that budget constraints and the brackets of independent cinema are not blockades in creating a potent piece as Lowe hatches an audaciously somber and fruitfully macabre vision of a woman unhinged. There is not a single moment where we don’t align with Ruth. We have to listen to her and follow her every step, encouraging us to see the world through her damned perspective.
This creates an off-kilter atmosphere that fashions a normal-looking world, but with a surreal and untrustworthy ambiance, similar to British TV shows such as Green Wing and The IT Crowd. Prevenge is entirely impressive as it is, but what pushes the film’s intrinsic likeability even further into the atmosphere is the personable energy that the film emits. Lowe wrote, directed, and stars in this one-woman show, all whilst she was actually pregnant in real life. The level of dedication and the film’s success has to be owed entirely to her.
9. The Ritual (Directed by David Bruckner, 2017)
A tragedy strikes in a group of friends, leaving the bond disabonded. To rekindle their friendship the four of them set out on a hike through the rural Scandinavian wilderness, however, when a wrong turn ends them into ominous land, they must fight for survival.
The Ritual remains efficient, rich, and menacing– heeding onto the complexities of trauma and the threat of expelling one’s grief inwards, rather than seeking the comfort of shared loss. Boasting The Ritual’s emotional rhythm is David Bruckner’s ability to take elements of the source material (Adam Nevill’s 2011 novel of the same name) and manifest a story that alludes to Nevill’s rural atmospheric strengths, but with a surreal edge that transcends the barriers between the mind and the psychical body.
Due to this constant escalation of illusory texturization, the viewer can never decipher what the fates of the four will be. Immediately, when an isolated forest setting is disclosed an air of the ‘other’ forebodes the script, with many recalling the likes of The Blair Witch Project (1999) or The VVitch (2015) as an archetypal framework for The Ritual to base itself around. However, Bruckner dismisses the urge to be predictable or imitate previous works, opting for unfamiliar occurrences that have you questioning whether the sinister happenings are held within the fragile group’s mind or if something very real and very evil is actually at play.
10. Hellraiser ( Directed by Clive Barker, 1987)
Frank Cotton (Sean Chapman) opens a portal to hell after solving a puzzle box, unleashing sadomasochistic beings called Cenobites, led by their leader Pinhead (Doug Bradley) who tears Frank’s body to shreds. Frank’s brother Larry (Andrew Robinson) and his wife Julia (Clare Higgins) have a strained relationship, which led to Julia having a secret affair with Frank before his death. To rekindle their estranged relationship the pair move into Frank’s old house, where a skinless Frank is accidentally resurrected, who convinces Julia to lure men back to the house for him to drain.
Director Clive Barker originally was a writer, having written the screenplays for Underworld (1985) and Rawhead Rex (1986), however, he was rather unhappy with the final execution of his developed work, leading him to direct the film adaptation of his novella The Hellbound Heart (1986). Immediately, Barker knew that he wanted to create a piece dosed in creative eccentricity and a horror betrothed to the atmosphere and cutting edge originality. Considering the fact that the film developed into an entire franchise, it’s assured that Barker’s goal of a successful adaptation was achieved.
Hellraiser’s moral compass is enriched with a dreamlike quality, resulting in dark sequences of death and destruction, and whilst the overall effect is beyond alluring, the primary source of the film’s seduction is due to the cruel unearthly creatures donning sharp exteriors and bondage-like clothing. The genealogy of the Cenobites has been diagnosed as ‘religious based’, with them deriving from a religious sect in the underworld known as the ‘Order of the Gash’ where their evolution has made them unable to differentiate pleasure and pain. Pinhead and his followers’ existence transport the film into a higher level of transgressiveness, allowing for the viewer to become blinded and lost within the utter absurd nature of Barker’s vision.
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