There was no reason why I would not enjoy The Witch, as it had all the signs of being a great film. It is an independent horror film that is also the debut of an audacious young talent, it is set in a period of American history that I find profoundly fascinating and it has a brooding, suspenseful tone lingering over the story. Moreover, the film incorporates mythology into its storytelling, drawing upon historical records and documents taken from the New England region, with Robert Eggers building a terrifying film around the folk tales of the area. What I was initially very reluctant to watch turned out to be something quite extraordinary, and while it is not the most faultless of modern independent horror films, it is a fear-inducing, twisted story that is executed with extraordinarily deft filmmaking and a story that will doubtlessly cause severe unrest in those who dare to watch it. The Witch is not necessarily a conventional horror film, but it is one that subverts expectations and delivers something thoroughly harrowing, even if it doesn’t reach the heights that seemed well within its capabilities. While I did find it imperfect, The Witch represents the debut for a filmmaker who will doubtlessly prove his mettle as a talented artist in the years to come, and considering Eggers’ relative inexperience in feature-length filmmaking (working mainly in short-format filmmaking over the past decade), it is a thoroughly impressive start to a potentially fruitful career. Not many filmmakers can convincingly craft such an intricate film as their debut feature, so it is quite an achievement on the part of Eggers that he managed to make something as profoundly nuanced as this.

The Witch is set in New England in the mid-17th century. A humble family is banished from the town due to the father’s defiant interpretation of the Holy Scripture, with the family making their new home on the outskirts of an ominous forest, where they raise a farm and hope to survive to the best of their abilities. Their new life is extremely difficult, with food being scarce and dangers lurking not too far beyond what they can see, sometimes even lingering in plain sight. The oldest child, Thomasin (Anya Taylor-Joy) is near the age for marriage but is still too childish to consider such changes in her life. Rather, she assists her father, William (Ralph Ineson) and mother, Katherine (Kate Dickie) in raising the family and caring for the farm. When the family’s newborn child, Samuel, disappears, the family blames Thomasin, who was present when he went missing. The most logical theory is that he was carried off by a wolf, but the truth is much more unsettling, as the infant had been stolen by a witch residing in the forest, who uses the baby for a perverse ritual that presumably keeps her alive. However, the cynicism of the family towards the presence of such an entity actually conceals their denial towards the possibility that supernatural forces are dictating their lives. Slowly, events start to occur that bring the family to realize that they can no longer remain idle to the idea of the forces of malice terrorizing them – however, the question is, where is the malice coming from? Is it truly an entity living in the forest preying on this innocent family, or is the more sinister interpretation the more accurate one, whereby the evil resides within the family itself?

I have always been oddly fascinated with folk mythology, and while they can often be relentlessly unsettling, they are invaluable sources of not only some spine-chilling stories but also portraits into the mentality and beliefs of the people of that specific era. The time of the pilgrims in America has been a period I have been profoundly interested in exploring, with the idea of transient cultures, and the changing mentality as these individuals adapt to their new homes, being inherently engrossing. Robert Eggers seems to have had a similar interest in both the era and the folk tales that came about during this time, because The Witch is formed entirely out of this time period, bringing along many of the characteristics of the era. According to what has been said about the making of this film, Eggers utilized real records and documents from the era in constructing the story, even going so far as to incorporate real dialogue into his film, which gives it a certain authenticity, as well as an eerie resonance that is resoundingly terrifying. While the film itself may be entirely fictional, the sources that informed it were not, which places The Witch between fact and fiction, which is unsettlingly innovative, and deliberately leaves the reality of such events ambiguous. Other horror films have attempted to use allegedly real events to create fearful, terrifying stories – one just needs to look at The Conjuring and its many sequels and spin-offs, all of which were apparently based on true stories, but are more intent on being horrifying films rather than honest retellings of the stories that inspired them. The Witch is less of a film about specific events and rather a representation of the era in which it takes place, with the mentality of the people of that period is perhaps the most terrifying at all. The Witch is not necessarily a film that mocks traditional beliefs in the same way films intent on describing such an era, but one that shows the power the human mind has to create situations that can bring about great harm to others, with suspicious thoughts and unwavering devotion to a particular belief often being the most destructive force of all. The Witch blends supernatural terror with domestic tension and creates a truly memorable and chilling historical horror that is as harrowing as it is meticulously constructed.

Much of what makes The Witch a successful horror film are the performances. The film has a small cast, which is always a troubling sign for a horror film, as focusing on a few core characters means that the audience will likely grow attached to them, and rather than looking at the larger social issues indicated at the beginning of the film, looking at the central family almost exclusively is far more terrifying and effective. The cast is led by Anya Taylor-Joy, a profoundly talented young actress who is amounting an extremely impressive set of performances, and proving herself to be capable of both period and contemporary films. Her performance as Thomasin is astounding, with her wilful independence being distinctive, but not hiding the complexities of the character, showing her vulnerabilities and insecurities that come from the fact that she may be responsible somewhat for the loss of her newborn brother, which serves to be the catalyst for the unhinged terror inflicted upon this family. Ralph Ineson plays the God-fearing patriarch who presides over his family with iron-clad dedication, but acknowledges that one cannot always depend on the forces of faith to assist one in times of need (there are many references in this film to the Book of Job, which are certainly not done in vain, considering the difficult lives these characters have been forced to live). His character of William realizes that perhaps God is not punishing him to test his faith, but rather that he is the victim of a close-minded, brutal society that disposes of outsiders with reckless abandon over the most inconsequential of conflicts. Kate Dickie is unsettling as the matriarch, who clashes constantly with her oldest daughter, acknowledging her age now makes her a suitable wife, and that she should soon leave the family to start her own – perhaps she blames her daughter for the loss of her infant son, or perhaps she sees her daughter, who is on the verge of womanhood, as a threat to her position, with Thomasin growing more feminine and beautiful, all the while she becomes older and more haggard. Dickie is more terrifying in this role than the titular witch, and her performance is unbelievably unsettling. Harvey Scrimshaw gives the best performance in the film as the hopeful Caleb, who wants to help take care of his family, but unfortunately falls victim to the titular malicious force that uses him as a vessel to dismantle the innocent family. The cast as a whole is exceptional, with everyone giving committed performances, inhabiting these roles well and speaking with convicted diction that sells these performances as deeply authentic.

The Witch is a very unsettling film, and it has a disconcerting atmosphere right from the beginning. I don’t claim to be an expert on folk mythology nor Biblical stories, but from what I do know, The Witch is a meticulously-constructed tale that incorporates both of these forms of storytelling in such a way that the comforting nature of religion is made almost terrifying and bleak. This is not a film that dismisses religion or says that those who have faith are bound to be disappointed when facing adversarial forces, but rather that sometimes mind overtakes matter, and in the extremely unlike case that these supernatural events do occur, simple prayer may not be the answer. It considers the bleak question that is constantly asked by even the most ardently religious people – what is there is no salvation to save one from the forces of malice? Eggers does not dispose of religion or mock those who look towards a deity for guidance and protection, but he uses the concept of faith well, utilizing it alongside the terrifying folk mythology to create a complex, deeply disquieting morality tale, one that uses mythology to tell a story of grief and mourning, one where there is the possibility that prayer may not be enough. It seems to be a pattern that contemporary horror films look at the concept of death or loss, and filters the sadly resonant experience of losing someone through the lens of terrifying situations, but it is one that is very effective, because the most potent horror films are those that garner their terror through situations that seem realistic in some way, and considering many people can attest to the gut-wrenching sensation of loss, a film like The Witch manages to be profoundly powerful. It is a film that does have a complicated relationship with religion, with the general notion that prayer can be comforting, but it does not necessarily reverse something as deeply harrowing as the death of a loved one. Eggers is very intricate with how he presents this story, and once again, it does not look upon religion with disdain but is also not reluctant to use it to serve the story. It is uncomfortable, especially for those with unwavering faith, but this discomfort is necessary because it proves how the dismantling of sacred ideals can be an immensely striking experience when done with as much integrity and sensitivity as it was done here.

On a purely technical and creative level, The Witch is astonishing. It may not be the finest independent horror film of the past few years, but it is certainly one of the most visually stunning. Eggers and cinematography Jarin Blaschke (photographing his first high-profile film project) crafted a film that is aesthetically as terrifying as its story. The decision to set this film on a secluded farm was an effective one, as it allowed Eggers the chance to construct something simple but terrifying, utilizing a minimalistic approach to storytelling, which is far more effective than more convoluted, urban-set horror films. There is a sense of isolation present throughout the film, formed entirely out of the fact that this family is secluded, with very little human contact – thus, the possibility that there is someone else lurking in the woods, preying on them, is almost unspeakably terrifying. It also invokes the idea that not only is escape illogical – it is almost impossible – running will only result in moving deeper into the dreadful clutches of malice. A vast deal of the inherent terror in The Witch was formed out of the artistic approach taken to represent this story, and the creativity evident in this film is astonishing. The cinematography is stellar, with its unusual use of natural lighting (perhaps taking its cue from Kubrick’s revolutionary technique employed in Barry Lyndon), and the way the forest is portrayed as being even more ominous and sinister than one would expect, with muted, arid coloring which supports the hopeless, bleak atmosphere set by the story. The production design is also exceptional, and works towards the central theme of terror, isolating this film and giving it a genuine sense of authenticity, detaching it to a specific moment in time, which creates an unsettling representation to the era. I cannot think of many period films that have been this thoroughly intent on providing an accurate portrayal of the era, and The Witch sometimes moves beyond its central story and conveys the Puritan lifestyle. The attention to detail in The Witch is almost unparalleled, and it is as aesthetically disconcerting as it is narratively petrifying.

Everything in this film, whether its the story or the general cinematic composition, works well together, weaving together an intricate tapestry of folk mythology and religious belief. The performances in this film are earnest and truthful, with Taylor-Joy, Ineson, Dickie, and Scrimshaw giving committed performances that appear genuine. The film as a whole is a complex portrait of a specific era and the mentalities that came with that period – and in looking at (and sometimes comparing) religious belief to the traditional folk tales of the era, Robert Eggers makes a profoundly harrowing film, focusing on a specific story, through which he is able to filter historical context that makes The Witch quite an anomaly of a film – a fictional story made with fragments of reality, it is an unnerving, perturbing masterwork of modern horror, and even if one puts aside the horror aspects of the film, The Witch is still a deeply fascinating representation of the time in which it is set, and my only complaint is that Eggers could have explored the traditions and social context with slightly more detail (not that it is a shortcoming, but rather my appreciation of his unique narrative approach and visual flair), because his ability to effortlessly represent this era is astonishing, and while the terror did frighten me considerably, what has left the most indelible impact is the unflinching depiction of mid-17th century, with the traditions, beliefs and most importantly, the anxieties, being conveyed with delicate precision. Interestingly, regarding the bewildering but fitting ending to this film, when one considers the notorious events that would occur in this region in only a few decades after the events of this film, it makes one wonder what Eggers could do if he had been given a chance to explore this period in a bit more detail. The Witch is a great historical horror, a genre I am starting to realize we need more of, hopefully with as encompassing and unsettlingly accurate a representation of the era as presented here. There is no other way to say it: The Witch is a terrifying film – most certainly brilliant, but persistent in its dread and despair, and an unequivocally difficult film to forget.