The Witch movie review

dir. by Robert Eggers

BEST NEW FEATURE

It's rare that an independent film receives a wide release, and almost unheard of that an indie horror flick will be sent to multiplexes across the continent. And yet, The Witch, one of the biggest festival darlings of 2015, has been presented to mainstream audiences, courtesy of independent house A24 in their first wide release to date. Films like this have historically not gone over well with mainstream moviegoers, and The Witch has been no exception, notoriously becoming subject to ridicule from disrespectful audiences. In spite of this, it's been a critical darling, again igniting the fire between film critics and your average joe.

So of course it's absolutely phenomenal. 

In contrast with last year's horror polariser It Follows, the source of contention with The Witch is fairly obvious: for long stretches of the running time, there's little horror at all. Instead, we're subject to a tense, moody character study, examining a Puritan family in colonial New England which has resettled at the edge of a forest after being ejected from the plantation they called home. That banishment, we're led to believe, was based in religion, but it's far from the greatest challenge this family's faith faces. Much of the film simply observes their fears of the coming winter and increasing fear of the apparent witchcraft which is plaguing them, and this drama is made riveting by the phenomenal performances from the stars. 

Indeed, although the script is written entirely in an archaic form of English, each line is sold remarkably, especially as the characters contemplate their faith or attempt to grapple with the horrors which are increasingly being unleashed on them. For Thomasin (Anya Taylor-Joy) and her family, this was already the hardest of times, and it only gets worse. Meanwhile, there's also poignant reflection on family loyalties, which anchors the film's drama and underscores the film's horror when those loyalties finally begin to unravel. This family drama provides investment in the characters, which contributes to immersion when the tension finally peaks. 

The film's mood is established by its audiovisual prowess, impressively making the most of a low budget to create an authentic period piece and a genuinely distressing atmosphere. The score, harsh and pounding, seems at times misplaced but far more often builds an effective feeling of dread. Indeed, The Witch's excellent score is a significant part of its horror, coupling with the careful pacing to prevent any easing of the film's constant distressing tension. More disturbing still is the striking imagery, complementing the constant feeling of dread with bad omens and increasingly disturbing events. 

Perhaps the most essential audiovisual element, however, is the stylized look of the film. The camera hides behind intertwined branches, gazes at shadowed walls and candlelit scenes, and gazes on just the right images at just the right time. The colour palette is grey and gloomy, and the framing is mesmerizing. Not a shot in the film falls flat, demonstrating a careful control of cinematic language which is maintained through every beat. This is one of the prettiest films I've seen in a while, looking every bit as good as The Revenant with twice the purpose. 

In both its remarkable family drama and in its skin-crawling horror, The Witch is a significant achievement. Horror films, as they're currently understood, are often limited to a formula of cheap scares, and that audience expectation leads to a closed-mined perception of the genre which prevents appreciation for divergent entries. The Witch blows away all assumptions with a masterful leap of horror cinema. This is cinema of remarkable confidence, a directorial debut as impressive as they come. It's destined to be misunderstood by the masses being exposed to it, but for a film this remarkable, longevity is assured.

No wonder the Satanic Temple approves of it. 

94/100, or

9/10

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