Folk Horror Through the Ages
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Folk Horror Through the Ages:Curses, Fables, and Mystery Across 13 Titles
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To coincide with the new 4k restoration of The Wicker Man and GFT's mini strand of contemporary folk horror classics, I felt the time was right to revisit some other examples of the subgenre. Folk horror can be a hard category to define, and although its more well-known entries are adorned with flower crowns and Pagan carvings, the subgenre is far more broad and diverse than you might expect: Britain is not the only place with folklore!
Folk horror has experienced somewhat of a resurgence in recent years, perhaps an escape for filmmakers who want to connect with more elemental material and write free from the constraints of technology. While Enys Men left me sorely disappointed, and Men and Lamb almost amused at their emptiness, other efforts have proven themselves worthy, creating fresh takes on the subgenre. The following films are sorted from oldest to newest, from a silent docu-fantasia to a 2021 botanical hair-raiser.
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Häxan: Witchcraft Through the Ages (1922, 15)
One of the earliest examples of Pagan and Medieval folk horror, it's a combination of fictional occult scenes and stretches of documentary illustrated by director Benjamin Christensen. A visually rich depiction of the evolution of witchcraft, the startling use of violence and nudity among its vignettes was shocking for the early 1920s: the subgenre has been uniquely disturbing from the start!
The White Reindeer (1952, PG)
A little Finnish rarity with a breezy runtime, this snowy cautionary tale depicts vampirism in a totally unique light. While a magic shaman's love potion leads to a supernatural bodily transformation along the lines of a monster movie, the isolated setting and minimalism of the film lends itself perfectly to folk horror category.
Onibaba (1964, 15)
Alongside its sister film Kuroneko, Onibaba (which translates to 'Demon Hag') is a deeply atmospheric exploration of folklore in feudal Japan. Set entirely on one field and realised in stunning high-contrast black and white, repression, jealousy and wartime desperation lead to disastrous consequences against the backdrop of a labyrinthine sea of ever-swaying tall grass. The discovery of a demonic mask, symbolic of the damage exhibited by post-war societies, stands out as one of the most iconic images from Japanese cinema.
Witchfinder General (1968, 15)
A quintessential folk horror classic released during the subgenre's prime, Vincent Price stars as the titular character in one of his most loathsome roles. Inspired by brutal historical injustices at the hands of a real witch hunter from the 17th century and set against the rolling hills of the beautiful English countryside, it has never been more thematically relevant. In a time so heavily defined by social media in which livelihoods and careers can be mowed down so quickly, its timelessness only adds another layer of gloom to the story.
Psychomania (1973, 15)
British folk horror meets moral panic biker gang picture. An unlikely spin on the subgenre, Psychomania takes the tropes (ancient ruins, cults, resurrections, witches) and uses them to conjure the most vilifying depiction of mods and rockers. Burning rubber up and down country lanes, and wearing skulls and crossbones on their helmets, the lack of subtlety towards its central characters only adds more camp to the film.
The Shout (1978, 15)
Over four decades before EO would steal the hearts of audiences, Polish director Jerzy Skolimowski crafted a totally unique Devon-set seaside chiller. A story within a story about relationships and seduction, the supernatural horror is derived from, despite the harsh British setting, the dark magic of an Aboriginal shaman. It's an odd touch that would certainly not get a greenlight anymore, at least not with an all-white cast and crew, but its boldness has to be admired.
Alison’s Birthday (1981, 15)
A low-budget story about evil back garden stones and a Druid cult, it's a slow-burning Aussie oddity with a twisted take on family akin to that of Hereditary. Joanne Samuel, best known as the poorly fridged love interest in Mad Max, carries the film with her performance as Alison, a teenager with a gravely uncertain future. Despite limited resources, the film is entirely imbued with dread from its opening sequence seance right to the bitter end.
Halloween III: Season of the Witch (1982, 15)
The Michael-less black sheep of the Halloween franchise is outrageous in every way, and often forgotten as far as modern folk horror goes. Featuring a diabolical plot that sees powerful micro-stones stolen from Stonehenge used to turn the brains of trick-or-treating children across America into bug-riddled mush, the film indulges in Pagan shenanigans with unapologetic glee. Ultimately focusing on the Gaelic festival of Samhain rather than Halloween itself, Season of the Witch stands out as a totally singular splicing of killer robots, television brainwashing and rune terror.
The Juniper Tree (1990, 15)
Based on a Grimm fairytale, this Icelandic gem arrived at a turning point in the career of star Björk. Filmed the same year she joined The Sugarcubes in 1986, although released only two years before the band's dissolution in 1992, the artist's first acting role sees her as a young girl on an isolated farm, haunted by her late mother who was burned at the stake for witchcraft. Focusing primarily on terribly, terribly, terribly moody atmospherics, it's a slow build to a final act that lives up to the gruesome reputation of the source material.
The Blair Witch Project (1999, 15)
Revolutionary in terms of its filmmaking techniques and movie marketing, this no-budget classic is as divisive as they come. While most remembered and parodied for a creepy cabin and a snotty protagonist, some of its most unsettling moments occur in the first act as locals recount their encounters with the elusive witch. Boring to some and terrifying to others, it's a supreme example of the power of suggestion: folk tales evolve over time, and the vagueness of the eponymous villain is what keeps the film so engaging even on rewatches. To show the appearance of the witch would remove all tension and believability, something the film's successors would unfortunately prove.
The Village (2004, 12)
Although one of the two least folk horror-ish on the list (the other being Halloween III), M Night Shymalan's ambient brew of romantic melodrama and woodland creature feature leans heavily into the rural style of the subgenre and, as is common with folk horror, humankind is almost always the real monster. Beguilingly scored and lensed, it features one of Shymalan's cleverest twist endings, if not executed in the most perfect way.
The VVitch (2015, 15)
Introducing the vvorld to a brand nevv creativ-ve v-voice, Robert Eggers’ modern classic set a new bar for painstaking historical accuracy. Acted powerfully by a cast including a young Anya Taylor-Joy, a nasty black goat, and quietly one of the best Scottish actors working today, Kate Dickie, it invokes a world so bleak that the cost of your own soul is worth it for some butter and a dress.
In the Earth (2021, 15)
It would be easy to dub Ben Wheatley ‘The King of folk horror,’ at least in terms of modern directors. His darkly comic fourth foray into hallucinatory country terror is at once firmly planted in the unknowable threats of the natural world, however human interference and flickering research technology interrupt the forest peace. Emphasising this contrast is incredible sound design that switches between beautifully organic synths and piercing pitches. All of this punctuated by a dangerous virus wreaking havoc around the periphery of the story pushes the film, and in turn the subgenre, into a more timely post-COVID territory.
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