[yasr_overall_rating]
A family in 1630s New England is torn apart by the forces of witchcraft, black magic and possession.
There’s a scene near the beginning of “The Witch” that is one of the most riveting and unspeakable sequences I’ve encountered. I can’t in good conscience describe it here. It’s boldly transgressive, a moment of taboo-shattering intensity that exerts a vise-like hold on you. It’s a clear warning that the film, like the stretch of land where the story unfolds, is inhospitable and unsympathetic.
Set in the early 17th century, “The Witch” tells the story of a family that has taken up residence on a clearing out in the wilderness. The family, headed by William (Ralph Ineson), was driven out of the plantation where they once lived after some unseen quarrel. They attempt to make the most of their circumstances, but the land offers only blighted crops, and there’s precious little game to trap and eat. All that they have is each other, and their faith, but these offer little protection from the malignant presence that dwells within the shadowy, labyrinthine thicket that borders their home. Their youngest child is lost while in the care of the clan’s eldest daughter, Thomasin (Anya Taylor-Joy). The mother, Katherine (Kate Dickie) begins to unravel from grief, and the stress of trying to subsist in such meager circumstances. William attempts to keep the family bound together through hard work and stern religious teachings, but his best efforts prove futile.
Much of the film’s effectiveness should be credited to its atypical pacing, and nerve-shredding soundtrack. Rather than jolt us with bursts of fear, “The Witch” sustains a ceaseless, seething menace. We don’t search the shadows for monsters – the threats are often right in front of us, and we’re forced to wait with mounting dread for them to attack. You may not jump, but you’ll definitely squirm. The camera work is unique for horror in the way it stays tight on characters in moments of peril. Convention often dictates that scary sequences maintain some distance between us and a potential victim, to make them feel exposed, but “The Witch” pins us close to whomever it we’re meant to fret for. Instead of watching an unlucky person wander into a spooky basement, we’re swept along down the dark stairs, too. The music is piercing and anxious, which contributes effectively to the feeling that everyone in the film exists on the precipice of doom. It’s an unsettling, chest-tightening experience.
“The Witch” faithfully recreates the bygone dread of folktales from the old New World. This is a painstaking recreation of an ancestral nightmare, and writer/director Robert Eggers manages to convey what should be an obscure sort of terror to audiences by rigidly adhering to the worldview of his characters and setting. It’s an approach that feels almost academic, but “The Witch” has an undeniable visceral power. The family (we don’t know their last name) abides by a Christian theology that offers no comfort to the faithful. Sin is a nebulous, existential threat, and the pious receive no immediate reassurance from their faith, only a glimmer of hope for salvation in the next life – they’re physically and spiritually vulnerable.
The characters may not be identifiable to us, but they’re so effectively portrayed that we can understand their actions, and feel their panic and confusion as the horror unfolds. Eggers also ensures that as difficult as it might be to relate to the family, their humanity is apparent. They’re flawed, and they care for each other; we’ve made important progress beyond their limited perspectives, but we can comprehend what it means to live within the confines of their beliefs. It’s worth noting that “The Witch” is an appreciation old legends, not a commentary on them. It doesn’t resolve its story so much as it lets the consequences of its events bear out, with no real attempt to tailor its resolution to accommodate modern expectations.
“The Witch” is effective, creative, and absolutely unnerving. It unfolds languorously, but maintains an almost suffocating tension. It’s a startlingly original and impressive film, made possible by its meticulous evocation of centuries-old fears.
In select theaters February 19th
