Pray to your gods

The first episode of Moviedrome presented by director Alex Cox (Repo Man etc.) introduced The Wicker Man. Watching Moviedrome meant several things to me as a kid growing up. Largely that I was up way past bedtime catching sight of films that I shouldn’t have been, which was fraught with the danger of a telling off and, therefore, thrilling in itself.

Cox gave his definition of a cult movie in this inaugural episode:

A cult film is one that has a passionate following, but does not appeal to everybody. James Bond movies are not cult films, but chainsaw movies are. Just because a cult movie is a cult movie does’t automatically guarantee quality. Some cult movies are very bad; others are very, very good. Some make an awful lot of money at the box office; others make no money at all. Some are considered quality films; others are exploitation. One thing they do have in common is they are all genre films… They are also cheaply made. 

If The Wicker Man was good enough for the first episode of Moviedrome, it is certainly good enough for the first post here. The film opens with policeman Sergeant Neil Howie from the Scottish Mainland sent to Summerisle in the Hebrides to investigate the disappearance of a school girl named Rowan Morrison.

Howie’s inquiries soon lead to instincts that all is not quite right with the accusation and with life on the island, generally. Howie, a devout Christian, grows frustrated with the islanders’ attempts to obfuscate evidence, obstruct the case, and rails at their careless attitude and lack of morals. However, Howie’s adherence to what he believes is the right way to life, his devotion to Christianity, blinds him to what is really unfurling. Howie’s naivety, perhaps, obscures why he in particular was lured to the island.

The Wicker Man can stand as a critique of several things. Religious fundamentalism, trust in leaders, suspicions of the other – those who live differently, the twee, the weirdos: how urbanites see townies, how townies see villagers, how villagers see country folk, and how country folk see everyone else. But are they that different?

It’s worth mentioning that there are several released cuts of The Wicker Man. The theatrical cut, the one that was originally released in movie theatres, is the only cut under 90 minutes and dispenses of around 5–12 minutes of scenes that feature in other cuts such as the Director’s Cut and/or the Final Cut. This is thought to be because the film was first released as a double bill with Don’t Look Now. 

It’s arguable that most of the cut scenes give the game away earlier, so you have to work a little harder in the theatrical cut to suss things out. The folk score to The Wicker Man is a great accompaniment, even if we don’t hear much of it. One cut scene is soundtracked by the seductive and brilliant song ‘Gently Johnny’ which is a shame not to have included. 

However, there is little fat to be had on this movie and the pay off for watching The Wicker Man is one of the great endings in horror. On Moviedrome Alex Cox repeats a quote from a review hailing the film, if somewhat overzealously, as ‘the Citizen Kane of horror movies’.