Year: 2016
Director(s): Robert Eggers
Writer(s): Robert Eggers
Region of Origin: Canada, US
Aspect Ratio: 1.66:1
Rating: R
Color, 92 mins
Synopsis: A family in 1630s New England is torn apart by the forces of witchcraft, black magic and possession. (Source)
The Witch doesn’t waste time letting its intentions known – barely ten minutes into the film, something horrible happens, and from that point on, you know that hope is futile. Director Robert Eggers’ tour-de-force descent into paranoia and madness is perhaps the most potent and grand distillation of horror since The Exorcist. Ambitious and sprawling despite its fiercely intimate scope, Eggers’ film earns its praise with undeniable aplomb, offering no exit as his characters grow more desperate and tormented. At a time when mainstream horror films are all about the next jump scare, The Witch stays clear of instant gratification, focusing instead on the feelings and experiences that you’ll take with you long after its over. Forgive me if all this sounds like hyperbole, but palpable tension, wholly immersive performances and an unforgettable ending ensure that this is a modern classic, and a new standard in cinematic, spiritual terror.
In 1630 New England, a Puritan farmer named William (Ralph Ineson) is threatened with banishment. Convinced that his way of life has been corrupted by the Church, he holds fast to his faith and moves his wife and three children into the remote wilderness to start again. Just beyond their new settlement, however, is a large forest which may hold a dark and ancient evil. Though the family is initially eager for their new start, William’s baby boy disappears under the watch of his eldest daughter, Thomasin (Anya Taylor-Joy), initiating a chain of strange occurrences which tests the bonds and faith of the displaced family.
What makes the film so terrifying is how it uses deeply psychological ideas to explore primal, innate fears. Like Kubrick before him, Eggers’ uncanny evil manifests itself through the mundane and innocent – farm animals, a stray jest or even a simple misunderstanding turn into some of the story’s most harrowing moments, giving the ideas of possession and witchcraft a much more relatable twist. As such, the film exhibits the most terrifying evil of all, the kind that waits inside each of us for the right moment to break free, using grief and paranoia to show how easily we can be broken down and torn apart. At the heart of it all, this is the story of a family trying to stay strong in the aftermath of a horrible tragedy, and how that weakness is exploited by powers out of their control. Eggers doesn’t waste a single frame here, never once resorting to cheap or fake jump scares, but instead slowly turning palpable dread and uncertainty into a psychological vortex that we can’t escape. Given the distinctly human perspective, you’ve never seen spiritual malevolence depicted with such realism – it’s downright chilling to behold.
Aside from the film’s narrative and technical prowess, it’s the impeccable cast that makes the film work, embodying intangible ideas with unfathomable conviction and blinding sincerity. The story allows each member of the family to shine, exploring their bonds and dynamic in-depth before tearing them apart. As the spiritual center, Ralph Ineson’s William offers a booming voice, stoic nature and intimidating composure which shows him as a man who truly cares for his family. Ineson’s descent is horrifying because of his initial strength, and as he loses his mind and compassion, we lose hope. Kate Dickie’s Katherine is a contrast to William, starting the film out as his polar opposite and looking for any reason to wallow in self-destruction, while their son, played by Harvey Scrimshaw, convincingly grapples with puberty and is torn between who in his family to trust. Scrimshaw has a moment in the film that is utterly jolting, and sure to become iconic in the genre. The true standout however, is Anya Taylor-Joy, as the family’s eldest, Thomasin. Her character carries most of the weight and fallout of what happens to the family, allowing Taylor-Joy to convey the most depth. She easily carries the film on her back, invoking our sympathy and sometimes our fear, all at the flick of a switch. She’s also the film’s heart and soul, and this is a star-making performance full of nuance and genuineness.
The Witch’s restraint is also its most deafening and piercing weapon – minimalistic on the outset but beautiful lensed and with gorgeously vivid visuals, it offers a wealth of layered nuance and ideas, each revealing themselves the more you allow the film to sink in. Eggers’ film in many ways feels like a course correction, returning the genre back to its roots and focusing on the horror that stems within our own flesh and blood. If you’re looking for fluff, or a film you can easily brush away, this isn’t it. Don’t go in expecting empty, carefree fun, but an experience that dares to explore what really makes us scared. In other words, let the film soak through your skin and into your bones, but abandon hope, all ye who enter here…
SG
