Hype
informal
noun
1.
extravagant or intensive publicity or promotion.
a deception carried out for the sake of publicity.
promote or publicize (a product or idea) intensively, often exaggerating its importance or benefits.
Hype is a mutherfucker. Hype has ruined more movies for me than bad CGI, wooden dialogue, recycled storylines, cheesy jumpscares, derivative plots and disposable characters combined. I blame Hype for my disappointment in such films as
The Babadook, It Follows, the remake/reboot/whatfuckingever of
The Evil Dead and every single thing James Wan has ever violated with his sticky, whorey little fingers. And yeah, it
is my own fault for believing the hype for even a fraction of a millionth of a second, for getting suckered in time and again. But I can't
not watch a horror movie. It's a lifelong addiction. Every once in a while I even get rewarded:
Kill List, Pontypool, the remake of
Maniac. But mostly, I just sit in front of whatever new movie is being touted as the best and most stunningly brilliant Grail of Holy Amazeballs ever to impact the horror genre, and I'm all like: "Huh? Meh. Zzzzzzzz."
I was prepared to be let down by
The Witch as well. I'd purposely avoided reviews. I did not seek out a synopsis. I watched the trailer, of course, but it ended there. I wanted to believe that this one would live up to the Hype. Maybe even surpass it. All of my most hardcore, horrorheaded, impossible to impress, wallowing in the horror mud puddle like happy piggies friends swore up and down that
this was the new standard to which all other horror movies would henceforth be held. Even my dear friend
Gavin Baddeley said it was the best thing he'd seen in a while (I'm paraphrasing, because I'm too lazy to go scrolling back through his FB feed to find out exactly what he said, but he
did like it). But I avoided any articles about it. I wanted to go into the theater as ignorant as possible and discover the film for myself. I would not be seduced by Hype again, goddammit.
And guess what?
The Witch absolutely, wholly, thoroughly and utterly deserves every grain of Hype it receives.
I won't ruin it for you. This will be a spoiler free review, rest assured. But I will say this much: Holy SHIT and about fucking time! A horror movie that doesn't rely on stupidity, or sex, or ever more convoluted plot twists and turns. There are a few jumpscares, but they aren't sprung on you until the final moments, and they are not cheesy - they are real, and they are vital rather than childishly teasing.
Based on folktales collected from New England's puritanical past,
The Witch is the purest horror film I have seen since the original
Texas Chainsaw Massacre. It isn't metaphorical, or allegorical or Freudian or any of that condescending crap. It's called
The Witch, and it gives you a Witch. It makes you wait, and guess, and dread and sweat and squirm uncomfortably. But it doesn't have any Shyamalanic climactic moments or overpowering incidental music to let you know when to be scared. Instead, it has class. It's a combination of the manic religious hysteria of
The Crucible and the paranoia of
The Thing - who is The Witch? It could be any of them, it might be none of them, perhaps it's all of them - each of them embodying a different cardinal sin and together conjuring an elemental - but you're going to have to wait patiently to find out.
No, dear, impatient, instant gratification-afflicted children - there is no sex. The nudity on display is not of the scintillating variety. You will not see any car chases, explosions or gunfire, nor will you hear any swaggerriffic techno tunes accompanying our Uzi toting Pilgrims as they stroll casually away from a burning helicopter, shades donned and expressions set to Badass Neutral. As a matter of fact, the dialogue can be difficult to decipher until your ear tunes up: the accents are English and the dialect is archaic, stuffed full of Thee's and Thou's and such. But there is a nifty goat named Black Phillip, who struts and dances and steals the film. Apparently, he was also a bit of an asshole on the set, determined to gore the living shit out of actor Ralph Ineson, who plays the head of the family and whose Pride has brought them all to ruin.
Newcomer Harvey Scrimshaw (what a
great name!) is nothing short of stunning as Caleb. This is only his third acting credit, but he's a seasoned Shakespearean pro already, walloping you right in the face with a forceful climactic scene, the details of which I will not reveal here because I don't want to ruin it for you. No less mesmerizing is Anna Taylor-Joy as Thomasin, accused of witchery, guilty of teenage unrest and bridling at her parents strict expectations, beloved nevertheless and so fair as to tempt Satan Himself.
Every frame of this film haunts: the stillness of the woods, the deepness of its shadows, the half-glimpsed and out-of-focus snatches of things which might be unspeakable, or perhaps just misunderstood. Even a lone, wiggly-nosed bunny rabbit with soft brown fur becomes absolutely terrifying here. Evil is everywhere, cloaked in the guise of innocence and Nature itself stands ready, perfectly willing to accept the patriarch's challenge to be beaten and controlled.
Be prepared for an ending you cannot prepare for: a swift punch and a revelation so chilling that surely it was penned by Grimm. And then, horrific beauty, savage gorgeousness. Is it redemption or damnation? You'll have to decide for yourself.
Friends, you have no idea how happy it makes me to recommend a movie so wholeheartedly. I don't get paid for this, I'm not famous, nor do I wish to be. I just want to watch horror movies and tell you, fellow horror fans, which ones are worth your precious time and which ones aren't.
This one most definitely is.
You may feel free to believe the Hype this time.
