The Witch spooks for the supernatural and the religious
If there were zero supernatural forces in The Witch (subtitled A New-England folktale), then writer and director Robert Eggers might have stirred a discussion about the human toll of religious zealotry. But there are evil things afoot in the forest outside of a newly built homestead, and they have come to roost. So discussion about this movie, which sustains most of its 90-minute running time without any special effects, instead centers on whether it’s truly a horror film, as it is being marketed.
Brought before a trial-like congregation, a Puritan farmer named William (Ralph Ineson) is forced out of a 17th-century village by its elders. Like many plot points in The Witch, the exact reasons are never explicated but the stakes are clear. The disagreement, likely over religious interpretation, means William, his wife and their five children must build a home somewhere far away — and feed themselves without any community support. Eggers opens the movie with close-ups of the terrified children, a theme he returns to often.
Once they put down roots in their new location, the family members are almost immediately touched by tragedy.
The Witch, which Eggers based on written accounts from the period, plays like an origin story for the Salem witch trials. The dangerous situation the family finds itself in, coupled with its dogmatic view of the world, makes it easy prey for paranoia. It’s easy to see how this tough lifestyle, misfortune and strict adherence to religious rigor could lead to finger-pointing and scapegoating.
William’s wife, Katherine (Kate Dickie), is already losing her grip on reality when she casts suspicion on her teenage daughter, Thomasin (Anya Taylor-Joy). Thomasin makes things worse by taunting the younger children, telling them that she is a witch, and they had better not tell anyone — or else! Thomasin’s act of understandable but childish irresponsibility sets the creeping fear in motion.
Before The Witch, Eggers’ directorial debut, the filmmaker worked as a costume and production designer. Both departments are represented with a convincing amount of period detail that contributes greatly to the stifling atmosphere. So does the dull, gray palette of the cinematography.
The formal language (thous and thees) is also convincing, albeit difficult at first to understand. To anyone who has ever felt as though ancient Christian text is a stern, foreboding lecture, The Witch should rekindle those memories of fear and wonder. Those feelings are also the mark of good horror movies, and Eggers captures that with the family drama alone. Amid the teasing iconography of Satanic tradition, William and Katherine are convinced that God is testing them. They worry that their family isn’t pure or resolute enough to pass judgment. As things get worse, William has a rare moment of clarity, admitting that his pride put the family in this situation in the first place.
It is this see-saw between brief and unexplained moments of the supernatural and long stretches of a family spiraling into madness that makes The Witch unique. As someone who appreciates a good amount of ambiguity, even I found myself yearning for answers, left frustrated by Eggers’ tendency to cut to black every time something unfathomable happens.
Leaving the theater, I was filled with apprehension, and I wasn’t sure whether The Witch was a satisfying experience. But like any good drama — or horror movie — it hasn’t left my thoughts. The lack of answers and stifling cultural specificity are what give The Witch its gnawing power.
So, yes, The Witch is a horror movie — an effective one. Now let’s shift the discussion: What does acknowledging the presence of supernatural forces in the movie do to its criticism of religious doctrine? Do the fantastic elements of the plot undercut any serious examination of its themes? For some, I believe, it will.
But technically, The Witch treats some long-held beliefs and Christian allegories as fact, which in this context renders them non-supernatural. Now who’s the crazy one?