On the release of the 50th Anniversary 4k restoration of The Wicker Man, Sci-Fi Bulletin stalwarts Nick Joy and Martin Jameson met (virtually) to do battle over the vexed question of whether the 1973 cult classic is deserving of its formidable reputation…

Martin: Hi Nick. When I turned fifty, one of my very best friends – appalled that I’d never seen The Wicker Man – bought me the DVD for my birthday telling me that it was one of his favourite films and that I’d absolutely love it. I sat down ready to be impressed, but within minutes I was laughing so hard I was sure that he must have been pulling my leg (he can be a bit of a prankster). I thought it was one of the worst films I’d ever seen. I then made the terrible mistake of thanking him for his hysterically funny, ironic present. He was mortally offended at my mockery. ‘No! It’s really good!’ he insisted, in the manner of a wounded puppy. I felt like a total heel and I’ve tended to keep my opinion of The Wicker Man to myself after that… until now.

So, my question to you, Nick, as a fan of the movie, is do you genuinely admire it as a masterpiece of British folk horror – or do you just love it because it’s frankly a bit rubbish, albeit enjoyably so?  (And will I have to check under my car now because that’s arguably a loaded and patronising question?)

Nick: Challenge accepted. And I think I might have worked out why we have such opposing views. I recently showed my stepson Blade Runner, which is my favourite film of all time. Disappointingly, he said it was just OK and a bit boring. I was heartbroken, and then I realised that 95% of what I bring to the movie is nostalgia – how I felt when I first watched it, and how the love has grown on subsequent viewings. Same applies to The Wicker Man – I was terrified by the movie when I first saw it as a teenager, and that initial fear has carried through to subsequent viewings. Had I seen it for the first time at fifty, my opinion would very likely be a different story. So, no, I don’t find it to be a bit rubbish. My question to you is this – where do you stand on folk horror in general, and let’s use Blood on Satan’s Claw and Midsommar as barometers?

Martin: Ah well, you have hit on something there. I’ve always struggled to take folk horror seriously. All that jigging around maypoles, and people in papier-mâché animal masks, and smiley, voluptuous blond women who tempt you to your death garlanded in fake blossom, and extras who look as if they’d rather be at a Sunday morning car boot sale. For that reason I avoided Midsommer, and recently giggled my way through Alex Garland’s Men, Welsh chiller Feast and the very amusing leprechaun home invasion movie Unwelcome.

Having said that, every now and again a bit of earthy pagan gubbins can wig me out. Ben Wheatley’s In The Earth did the trick nicely, as did Icelandic slow burn, Lamb – and Inside Number 9’s Mr King managed to be scary without descending into self-parody – so I’m not totally immune. As for the age thing… The Orphanage wasn’t released until I was forty-seven and that definitely got the goosebumps going – and since turning sixty I’ve been properly creeped by movies like The Innocents, Relic, The Barbarian and His House to name but four. If a film is relying on the audience being young and impressionable then I humbly suggest it might not be quite up to muster.

My problem with The Wicker Man is that it’s just not very well made. Let’s start with the script. While the story isn’t bad, the dialogue is creakier than the doors in a haunted house. ‘It’s I who will live again, not your damned apples!!’ Poor old Edward Woodward, he does his best. To quote Harrison Ford: ‘You can type this shit, but you sure can’t say it.’

I grant you, Christopher Lee isn’t bad, but you have to wade through 41 minutes of Ingrid Pitt staring and a badly re-voiced Britt Ekland to get to his first scene. To be fair, Lindsay Kemp and Aubrey Morris are both so camp they do add a certain 70s sitcom charm to the proceedings. Then there’s the stagey lighting where you can see the shadows against the buildings like Crossroads on a bad day. Even in natural light, the editing rarely matches from shot to shot. And what about the art department’s use of fake granite that is two shades darker than the local stone. I’ve seen more convincing rocks on Star Trek.

So Nick – age and folk horror aside – can you help me replace the Acorn Antiques elastic band of disbelief with an industrial strength bungee of credibility that will allow me to submerge myself in The Wicker Man’s hidden terrors?

Nick: You make some valid points. I think where I was coming from regarding the age thing is less that you were fifty, and more about the number of years of good vibes that I hold for the movie. After thirty-five-plus years of positivity, I’m fairly immune to negativity.

Yes, some of the dialogue is clunky, but in my mind, this adds to the dreamy artifice of it all. It’s all a bit ‘off’ and this is a big clue that something’s going on beneath the surface. Britt’s dubbing is poor, but Lee is wonderful in a really fruity performance and a wonderful wig. And when I saw the movie, I’d never seen anything quite like it – its influence on subsequent folk horrors cannot be underestimated. As to the technical issues with lighting, etc, is it any worse than any other Tyburn/Amicus/Brit horror of the time? Here’s a question – have you seen the remake starring Nicolas Cage? If you think the original is hysterical amateur hour, take a load of the new one.

Martin: You’re being surprisingly courteous about this, Nick, but I have to say I don’t buy into the ‘the-clunkiness-adds-to-its-quality’ argument at all, or that it was no worse than anything else at the time. Aged just thirteen, my independently minded stepmother smuggled me into Harlow Odeon to see Don’t Look Now a British horror film also released in 1973 – my first and life-changing X-film. I think it’s very hard to argue that Nicolas Roeg’s movie isn’t a true auteur horror masterpiece. The narrative structure and reveals are flawless, conveyed by a terrific script. Anthony Richmond’s lighting and cinematography is breath-taking and atmospheric. Graeme Clifford’s editing is brilliantly inventive – a key tool in the film’s story telling. The acting from Christie and Sutherland is superb throughout and it has one of the most emotionally truthful sex scenes ever committed to celluloid – as opposed to the cringe-tastic soft porn favoured by the inhabitants of Summerisle. Although even I can’t deny that Britt Ekland’s writhing body double (apparently not a stripper from Glasgow at all, but a hairdresser from Dalbeattie according to a resident of Kirkcudbright I spoke to last year) is one of the most unforgettable images in the history of cinema.  And best of all there’s no folk music nor a maypole in sight.

I think you deserve the last word on this, Nick, so I rest my case.

Nick: Here’s one thing we can both agree on – Don’t Look Now is a masterpiece, but frankly it’s an exception in terms of production values of low budget Brit horrors at the time. I don’t suggest the clunkiness adds to the charm of The Wicker Man, just that this level of clunk was typical of most similarly budgeted product of the time. I can see through any production shortcomings and focus on the uncanny sense of dread that the film invokes in me – it was there then, and it is now.

And as for courtesy, I’ve got some great news – there’s a group of locals who would like you to join them later at the top of the cliffs to discuss your concerns. They’re going to put you in the hot seat… a VERY hot seat, where you can share your burning issues. It’s the hottest ticket in town!

Martin: Hang on a minute… why’s there a man in a giant rabbit’s head at my window? Where’s my asbestos suit when I need it…?

Read our review of The Wicker Man’s 50th anniversary release here

 

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