The Witch1 Samuel 15:23 in the Holy Bible reads: "For rebellion is as the sin of witchcraft." And should you ask any parent, there is one thing upon which they all agree that teenagers share in common: the capacity for rebellion. It is in this transitional period from child to adult where teenagers of any century, such as Thomasin (Anya Taylor-Joy) in the 17th century frontier of what would become New England, find themselves confronted with doubts sprung forth from changes in their body, a contextual awareness of their lives, and their search for individuality as they cope with inner demons; and in the case of Thomasin and her family, perhaps even external ones as well.
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The Witch is a story about angst in many forms, which periodically blooms into bloody flourishes of terror. Following the decision of her father, William (Ralph Ineson), to rebuke the practices of the community interpretation of Christianity fostered by the commonwealth in the New World where they once called home, Thomasin, her mother Katherine (Kate Dickie), and her siblings are banished to forge their own path in the rustic woodlands on a gloomy patch of barren land. William may believe himself devout, but he is no survivalist, and his attempt to harvest corn is paltry at best. William tries to distract his family from the disquiet of their exile and their implied hunger by a stern adherence to his own interpretation of the word of God. In a way, The Witch is also about the definition of a Christian, and the struggles with which those who identify themselves as Christians find in their faith and interpretation of the New Testament. William's schism from his fellow puritans marks a disagreement in the interpretation of the word of God, and the plot to follow is a reflection of his ineffectual efforts to actualize that faith. But when horrible trials beset the homestead, the family strains under the weight of the convictions and regulations set by the father. More than any other film, The Witch recalls Ingmar Bergman's own tale of religious desperation in the face of adversity, as well as in tone and the stark setting: The Virgin Spring. In both films, faith is tested, and weak faith is not just shattered, it is turned against the bearer. An early scene with Thomasin shows her on her knees, praying for forgiveness for her thoughts of sin as she has understood it by her father's teaching. Her brother, Caleb (Harvey Scrimshaw), recites the teachings of how he is a being born of sin to his father, and he is later stricken with the unshakable horror that he will never know if he will go to Heaven or Hell. One thing I observed watching The Witch is that for all of the discussion of the word of God by William (and by proxy, Katherine), never once can I recall a Bible being opened or read; there is even evidence that Thomasin might not be able to read. This also illuminates a fear all teenagers ultimately must address: that their parents are not uniformly perfect, and may err in their parentage; but how can a child instruct the parent to this end, even if they recognize it? Figure that out, and you'll have a leg up on countless child/parent counselors.
The Witch deftly dances the line between supernatural horror and psychological horror with devilish grace. Early on in the film, Thomasin plays peek-a-boo with her infant brother, Samuel, who vanishes suddenly. Following his abduction is a brutal scene alluding to a crone lurking in the woods, whose trees are perpetually bare like the hag's withered limbs. But after this scene, we return to Thomasin, suggesting that the vicious terror we witnessed might possibly have been within her young, fearful imagination, spurred by her sense of guilt at Samuel's disappearance in her care and the ever-present sentiment espoused that she and her loved ones are beings of corruption. The trees that surround the family home stretch beyond sight, and are like prison bars sequestering the family in their microcosm of spartan living, or like the fibrous hairs on the back of some great beast. There is also the sense of the clash between the old world paganism--even those practices brought over from Europe to America--and the introduction of Christianity into the new world, and the struggle to consolidate those beliefs in the new frontier. And isolated from the rest of civilization, the children find they are unable to comprehend the feelings of puberty overtaking them, leading to moments where Caleb glances at his older sister's chest, both aroused and confused by this sensation. The growing fascination and struggle to contain his misunderstood emotions boils over when Caleb ventures into the woods without permission, and is shown encountering a tempting woman, well-endowed and draped in a sinful red cloak, like an erotic fairy tale image, one which joins the two seemingly diametrically-opposed qualities of sexuality and innocence. Strong visual images like these keep the metaphor of religious and pubescent angst perpetually in the mind for viewers, such as the moment when William has fallen in the squalor in his day clothes and undresses, robing himself in a sheet to chop wood, giving him a Jesus-like image; it stands to reason that his children would envision Jesus to look like him, based on his self-appointed role as the preacher of the Gospels. And on the barren farm, where a few goats are kept for milk, inescapable parallels exist between the devil and the ebon buck, Black Phillip. These underscore the perpetual presence of the dark forces in The Witch, even if just in the thoughts and nightmares of this family, unable to foster crops in the soil of their faith, so cold and hard that nothing can crack through the earth save for the wicked and warped trees which claw upward toward the moon on high.
Recommended for: Fans of a harrowing horror story about family, faith, and malevolence all colliding at once, smashing all in its wake. It is also a cautionary tale about practicing religion without faith and the dangers of losing connection with the needs of children. And The Witch is also an authentic period piece, for you history buffs and linguistics scholars who enjoy a good scare now and then.
The Witch deftly dances the line between supernatural horror and psychological horror with devilish grace. Early on in the film, Thomasin plays peek-a-boo with her infant brother, Samuel, who vanishes suddenly. Following his abduction is a brutal scene alluding to a crone lurking in the woods, whose trees are perpetually bare like the hag's withered limbs. But after this scene, we return to Thomasin, suggesting that the vicious terror we witnessed might possibly have been within her young, fearful imagination, spurred by her sense of guilt at Samuel's disappearance in her care and the ever-present sentiment espoused that she and her loved ones are beings of corruption. The trees that surround the family home stretch beyond sight, and are like prison bars sequestering the family in their microcosm of spartan living, or like the fibrous hairs on the back of some great beast. There is also the sense of the clash between the old world paganism--even those practices brought over from Europe to America--and the introduction of Christianity into the new world, and the struggle to consolidate those beliefs in the new frontier. And isolated from the rest of civilization, the children find they are unable to comprehend the feelings of puberty overtaking them, leading to moments where Caleb glances at his older sister's chest, both aroused and confused by this sensation. The growing fascination and struggle to contain his misunderstood emotions boils over when Caleb ventures into the woods without permission, and is shown encountering a tempting woman, well-endowed and draped in a sinful red cloak, like an erotic fairy tale image, one which joins the two seemingly diametrically-opposed qualities of sexuality and innocence. Strong visual images like these keep the metaphor of religious and pubescent angst perpetually in the mind for viewers, such as the moment when William has fallen in the squalor in his day clothes and undresses, robing himself in a sheet to chop wood, giving him a Jesus-like image; it stands to reason that his children would envision Jesus to look like him, based on his self-appointed role as the preacher of the Gospels. And on the barren farm, where a few goats are kept for milk, inescapable parallels exist between the devil and the ebon buck, Black Phillip. These underscore the perpetual presence of the dark forces in The Witch, even if just in the thoughts and nightmares of this family, unable to foster crops in the soil of their faith, so cold and hard that nothing can crack through the earth save for the wicked and warped trees which claw upward toward the moon on high.
Recommended for: Fans of a harrowing horror story about family, faith, and malevolence all colliding at once, smashing all in its wake. It is also a cautionary tale about practicing religion without faith and the dangers of losing connection with the needs of children. And The Witch is also an authentic period piece, for you history buffs and linguistics scholars who enjoy a good scare now and then.