The Wicker Man: Collector's Edition (1973)

Directed by Robin Hardy

Produced by Peter Snell

Starring Edward Woodward, Christopher Lee, Diane Cilento, Britt Ekland, Ingrid Pitt, Lindsay Kemp, Russell Waters, Aubrey Morris, Irene Sunters, Geraldine Cowper

The Wicker Man

I could be totally, unabashedly blase here and simply say "this is THE genre classic…just buy it!", but that would be far too easy. But before we go anywhere, let me first quite clearly state that I am not an overly religious person and therefore, in the course of this review, there might be a few remarks made that may upset or offend those that are. If you are a person that falls into this bracket then I would kindly suggest you stop reading now, as my agenda is not to offend a particular sector of our readership, but merely to impart my views on this film. If you are of strong Christian beliefs, or of a Christian background, rest assured I am not targeting you, simply sharing my ruminations on a FILM and characterisations in a SCRIPT. It's just that, with older eyes, there were elements of Anthony Shaffer's script that raised a strong reaction from me, of which we'll deal with after the obligatory plot synopsis.

Sergeant Neil Howie (Woodward), a staunch upright Christian police officer from the mainland, is called upon by an anonymous resident of remote coastal fruit-laden retreat Summerilse to investigate the disappearance of local girl Rowan Morrison. The forthright and devoutly religious Howie embarks off the Scottish coast to the island, stoically believing his assignment will be wrapped up in less than a day. However, once he sets foot on the isle, his investigation leads him in ever increasing circles, and his religious beliefs are steadfastly challenged by the openly Pagan lifestyle of Summerisle's residents. Be it the flaunting of mainland laws by "Green Man" publican Alder MacGregor (Kemp), the blissful promiscuity of his daughter Willow (Ekland), or the "shocking" sex education visited upon Summerisle's children by school marm Miss Rose (Cilento), Howie is convinced he has descended into a heathen world befitting of Sodom & Gomorrah.

When even conversations with the missing girl's mother May Morrison (Sunters) fail to enlighten him as to Rowan's very existence, Howie turns his attentions to the island's omniscient Lord Summerisle (Lee), in what is rapidly becoming a futile attempt to uncover the truth. Revealed the island's secrets, its once prominent glories as a famed fruit exporter, and its reversion to the ways of the Old (elemental) Gods, Howie finds himself no closer in his journey than when he first set foot. With May Day celebrations fast approaching, inaugurating a new crop season, Howie determines that he will lambaste through the mystique to discover the (supposedly fantastic) missing girl's true whereabouts. Once his feverish search begins, it promises to reveal a more shocking universal truth than he, and his doctrined upbringing, can even begin to comprehend.

Shaffer and Hardy's masterful work is truly the antithesis of the regimented British horror genre, and effectively the "anti-horror" film that both sought to create. It plays with conventions, casts accepted horror icons (Lee & Pitt) against type, and ultimately deconstructs the preconceived notions of what a genre piece should be. Its history is legendary, its appeal timeless, and its framework unique by its original construction. Re-evaluated with a modern eye, it is a film that works spectacularly well for those weaned on "old school" horror, but will prove a potentially unsatisfying, even frustrating, work for current genre fans. Indeed, this is not a "horror film" by definition of a millennial idiom, but it is most certainly "film fantastique" as conceived by its collective creators. Its plot weaves a truly mesmerising majick over its viewer, heightening its final revelatory truth by subversively building upon its stark clash of (religious) cultures.

It is this clash, that I mentioned earlier, that has given me new perspective on a much ordained cinema classic. Although possibly not Shaffer or Hardy's direct intention, for myself a revisitation of "The Wicker Man" proved an intensely infuriating experience, drawing direct attention to its blatant juxtaposition of opposing belief systems. In contrast to the placid Pagan people of Summerisle (who admittedly operate with ulterior motives), Woodward's Sgt. Howie has the potential to play out as the arrogant, pig-headed face of organised religion (if one's horizons are open to interpretation). Not once in the course of Shaffer's script do the people of Summerilse rebuke, nor take offence, at Howie's structures of belief. However, Howie rampages across the island with a zeal that one could misconstrue as tyrannical, openly decrying teachings, defaming that which does not align itself with his beliefs systems, and eventually engineering what amounts to little more than a 'witch-hunt" to achieve his own indignant, self-righteous ends. The true horror of this work, in this viewer's eyes (a point I can't stress enough), is that the man who paints himself as fervently upright, and morally pure, is the real monster at the story's central axis. His blinkered outlook, and narrow-minded aversion to all that he holds holy (ie: all that is an affront to his zealously Christian viewpoint is to be construed as an aberration), justifies his outrageous persecution of all that does not comply with his viewpoint. Whatever became of the biblical ideal of "turning the other cheek", or welcoming one's brother with open arms, irrespective of his race, creed or colour? For a spectator without religious leaning, the quietly blissful existence of Shaffer's Pagans is infinitely preferable, as it is presented without prejudice or persecution.

Right, now that I've made enemies in every corner of the globe, let me reiterate that Hardy's film is without peer in a genre that has propagated itself through plagiaristic excess ad nauseum. How many films do we see that have either been directly inspired by, or copycat reworkings, of "The Wicker Man"? Forgive me if I can't acknowledge a single frame of film. Hardy commands exemplary performances from all involved, even his non-professional extras, but excels himself with leads Woodward and Lee. Having grown up with Lee, I still rate this as one of his warmest, most accomplished vehicles for his considerable, gentlemanly assets. Sir Chris always was one of the most under-rated actors of his, or indeed any, generation. More's the pity that he will ever be relegated to the accolade of "horror icon", when his considerable stature should afford him so, so much more. Likewise, the precision of Woodward's performance is simply masterly, the vehemence he imbues Howie with sometimes unsurpassable. Pitt and Ekland delight in smaller roles, but Diane Cilento steals their thunder with charming, affable elegance. Special mention also to Lindsay Kemp as the disarming Alder MacGregor, Russell Waters as the charming Harbour Master, Irene Sunters as the joyous May Morrison, and the ever delightful Aubrey Morris as the eerily unsettling Gravedigger (Morris being one of the great unsung character actors in film history).

Equally commendable are the lengths of research that Anthony Shaffer's script has gone to, not the mention the plethora of authentic Pagan iconography and paraphernalia on display throughout the course of the film. But who could forget the late Paul Giovanni's captivating folk score? Without Giovanni's intrinsic contribution to "The Wicker Man's" sublime oeuvre it is doubtless that the film as a whole would intoxicate the way it does. I can confidently cite only one instance where Giovanni's music "dates" a film that embraces a timeless quality. I could go on (and on and on), but I feel forced to curtail this before it evolves into a literary work of biblical magnitude. "The Wicker Man" is a glorious, daring work that is nothing less than an enchanting treat for the eyes, ears and senses.

Anchor Bay's double disc collector's box-set is nothing short of the same. Disc One presents the Theatrical (short) cut of the film, letterboxed at an aspect ratio of 1.85 and anamorphically enhanced. Anchor Bay have done such a fine scrub up of the source elements that, were it not for the obvious more youthful countenances of all involved, you'd swear it were made yesterday. Put all too rudimentarily, it looks magnificent for its age. The audio has been remixed in both Dolby digital 5.1 and Dolby surround 2.0. Probably the last film you'd expect the lavishing of a 5.1 remix, it is with great delight that I can impart that the remix has been done with reverence to the source materials, adding ambience where required, all important stereo separation to Giovanni's extraordinary music, and never once sounds gimmicky or forced. A highly respectful treatment of a classic film indeed. Disc One also comes with perfect companion piece, "The Wicker Man Enigma" documentary that clocks 36 minutes, and is revealing, insightful, as well as slightly disheartening (once you discover how poorly the film was treated on original release). Additionally, there is the original theatrical trailer, a TV spot (a compressed version of the trailer), and a swag of radio spots. But make sure you play around on the Special Features menu screen though (highlight "The Wicker Man Enigma" text, then press your "up" key on your remote…then press "enter" when a question mark in a box appears), as you'll find an original TV interview with Christopher Lee & Robin Hardy from US television show "Critic's Choice". The big surprise is that this "Easter egg" runs over twenty minutes!

Disc Two is the reason any self-respecting fan would buy Anchor Bay's box-set, as it contains the Extended cut of the film, restoring eleven minutes of additional material into the narrative. Per the Theatrical Version, this alternate edit of the film is also letterboxed at 1.85 and anamorphically enhanced. Image quality does vary noticeably, but as the Extended cut is a composite print comprised of both elements sourced from 35mm and a 1 inch master, this is more than acceptable. As the materials utilised are (apparently) the only ones in existence, the longer version was never going to be a perfect edition. I was more than happy to finally see a version appropriating Robin Hardy's original cut, that I was graciously willing to overlook the inherent problems associated with the composite print. Sadly, the audio is only Dolby digital mono but the sound quality is of such a high standard that this issue equates as completely tolerable. Rounding things out, the whole kit and kaboodle is packaged up in a nice collector's pine box that should make for an interesting talking point amongst friends in years to come. My only real quibble was the less than impressive double-CD jewel case that houses the two discs. It's a poor coda to a generally impressive box set…(

I suppose that the idea of giving me one of my favourite films for review purposes is a tad self-indulgent, and a benchmark of how to sabotage any forethought of an objective critique. But let's be brutally honest here in that case…old school horror buffs will embrace "The Wicker Man" with open arms and cherish the chance to finally own it on DVD. Fans of modern horror will scratch their heads in bewilderment and question the validity of its idolatry. Either way, it is still one of the most unique ventures in genre cinema ever attempted (and pulled off with style to spare). As I was barely five years old when this was first released, I guess from the above review you can firmly establish which camp I belong to? You'd be selling me short if you conceived that I loved it. So, in closing I have but this to say…this is THE genre classic, just buy it! (You knew that was coming, didn't you?) )

Review by M.C.Thomason


 
Released by Anchor Bay
Classified R - Region 0
Running time - 88m (Theatrical cut) & 99m (Extended cut)
Ratio - Widescreen 1.85 (16:9) (both versions)
Audio - Dolby 5.1 & Dolby surround 2.0 (Theatrical version); Dolby 1.0 (Director's cut)
Extras :
"The Wicker Man Enigma" documentary, Theatrical trailer, TV spot, Radio spots, Hidden "Easter Egg"
© 2001, Icon In Black Media
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