Burning Effigies: Folk Horror Flames in The Wicker Man and Midsommar

Under endless summer skies, ancient customs ensnare the unwary, turning idyllic fields into altars of the unthinkable.

In the shadowed groves of horror cinema, few subgenres evoke such primal unease as folk horror, where the rural idyll conceals barbaric rites. Robin Hardy’s 1973 masterpiece The Wicker Man and Ari Aster’s 2019 triumph Midsommar stand as twin pillars of this tradition, each transplanting pagan dread from misty moors to sun-drenched meadows. This comparison unearths their shared obsessions with ritual, community, and the fragility of modernity against ancestral savagery.

  • Both films weaponise the pastoral against outsiders, contrasting verdant beauty with visceral horror to expose cultural clashes.
  • Daylight as a horror canvas amplifies psychological torment, subverting nocturnal expectations in favour of relentless exposure.
  • Their legacies redefine folk horror, influencing a renaissance that probes grief, ecology, and the seductive pull of the collective.

Seeds of the Soil: Origins in Folk Horror Tradition

Folk horror germinated in British cinema during the 1960s and 1970s, a reaction to post-war secularism and eroding traditions. Hardy’s The Wicker Man, scripted by Anthony Shaffer, draws from Celtic mythology and the Hebridean Summerisle, a fictional isle where Christianity battles resurgent paganism. The film’s inception stemmed from producer Peter Snell’s desire for a horror without supernatural crutches, grounding terror in human fanaticism. Released amid Britain’s folk revival, it captured anxieties over vanishing rural customs amid urban sprawl.

Aster’s Midsommar transplants this template to contemporary Sweden, Hälsingland’s perpetual daylight mirroring Summerisle’s isolation. Inspired by Strindberg and European fairy tales, Aster crafts a breakup horror masquerading as cult thriller. Production faced real-world parallels: filmed in Hungary standing in for Sweden, the crew contended with actual Midsummer festivals, blurring art and ethnography. Both films position the countryside as antagonist, where nature’s bounty feeds not just bodies but bloodlust.

Central to their kinship is the outsider protagonist. Sergeant Neil Howie, portrayed by Edward Woodward, embodies rigid piety, flying to Summerisle to investigate a missing girl. His descent parallels Dani Arango’s (Florence Pugh) in Midsommar, a grieving academic lured to the Hårga commune post-family tragedy. Each arrival signals disruption: Howie’s Christianity affronts pagan harmony, Dani’s sorrow invites communal ‘healing’ through ordeal. These incursions ignite the plots, transforming curiosity into entrapment.

Sunlit Sacrifices: Daylight as the Ultimate Dread

Conventional horror thrives in darkness, but these films invert that trope, bathing atrocities in blinding light. The Wicker Man‘s vibrant cinematography by Harry Waxman captures Summerisle’s orchards and beaches in golden hues, making the wicker man’s fiery climax a pagan bonfire spectacle. This visual candour strips away gothic shadows, forcing confrontation with fleshly horrors: nude processions, phallic maypoles, animal slaughters viewed in stark relief.

Midsommar escalates this with 24-hour Swedish summer sun, Pawel Pogorzelski’s wide-angle lenses distorting flower-crowned faces into grotesque masks. The infamous cliff ritual and bear-suited finale unfold in broad daylight, sunlight glinting off blood like pollen. Aster’s choice amplifies dissociation; no night offers respite, mirroring Dani’s unending grief. Both directors exploit luminosity to heighten voyeurism, implicating viewers in the gaze.

Sound design reinforces this exposure. Paul Giovanni’s folk score in The Wicker Man—banshee wails, bawdy songs—permeates the isle like pollen, eroding Howie’s sanity. Midsommar‘s Bobby Krlic score blends dissonance with euphoric hymns, communal chants swelling during rites. Absence of shadows extends to audio: no creaks or whispers, just relentless melody underscoring communal ecstasy.

Ritual Reveries: Communal Madness Unveiled

Pagan ceremonies form the narrative spine, evolving from quaint to carnivotal. Summerisle’s May Day festivities escalate: a pub’s fertility song precedes a grave-side chase, culminating in human sacrifice to appease gods. Lord Summerisle (Christopher Lee) orchestrates with aristocratic glee, his hothouse revealing cultivated decay. The film’s anthropological depth nods to Frazer’s The Golden Bough, rituals ensuring harvest through sympathetic magic.

Hårga’s nine-day festival mirrors this cycle, honouring life’s wheel via paired sacrifices. Elder Sven embodies patriarchal wisdom, young maidens their floral allure. Aster layers psychological realism: Dani’s election as May Queen crowns her integration, yet demands mate-selection horror. Both communes embody utopic totalitarianism, where individualism dissolves in collective will.

Gender dynamics sharpen the terror. Women in The Wicker Man wield seductive power—Willow (Britt Ekland)’s dances tempt Howie—yet serve male deities. Midsommar inverts: female grief channels matriarchal rage, Dani’s final smile a triumph of catharsis over loss. These portrayals critique modernity’s isolation, positing surrender to tradition as twisted liberation.

Outsiders’ Lament: Protagonist Perils and Performances

Howie and Dani represent Enlightenment hubris, their rationality crumbling against atavism. Woodward’s Howie transitions from stern cop to frantic virgin, his hymns clashing with island chants. Pugh’s Dani arcs from hysteria to hallucinatory queen, raw screams evolving into serene command. Performances anchor the films: Woodward’s everyman rigidity, Pugh’s visceral breakdown.

Supporting casts amplify immersion. Lee’s charismatic villainy in The Wicker Man seduces as it repels, Diane Cilento’s schoolmistress schooling in heresy. Midsommar‘s ensemble—William Jackson Harper’s cynical Christian, Vilhelm Blomgren’s gentle Pelle—blurs friend and foe, fostering paranoia.

Ecological undercurrents bind them: Summerisle’s blight demands blood, Hårga’s runes predict doom. Both warn of humanity’s rift with nature, rituals as desperate ecology.

Cinematography and Effects: Crafting the Uncanny

Practical effects ground the gore. The Wicker Man‘s wicker man, a 40-foot edifice burned with Howie inside, used real flames for authenticity, nearly claiming Woodward. Animal deaths—throat-slitting, burying alive—provoke ethical debates, uncut in initial prints. Midsommar employs prosthetics for ritual wounds, cliff plummet via harness, bear suit concealing flames in finale.

Mise-en-scène obsesses over symbols: Summerisle’s apple orchards evoke temptation, Hårga’s runic tapestries foretell fates. Colour palettes—greens, yellows—saturate frames, folk art aesthetics heightening artifice.

Editing rhythms mimic trance: montage of dances induces hypnosis, cross-cuts building inevitability. These craft an uncanny valley where beauty veils brutality.

Legacy’s Long Shadow: Influence and Revivals

The Wicker Man languished post-edit mutilation, rediscovered via bootlegs, inspiring Hammer’s decline and folk horror boom. Remade in 2006 with Nicolas Cage, it underscored original’s uniqueness. Aster cites it directly, Midsommar sparking A24’s elevated horror wave—Hereditary, The Witch.

Cultural echoes abound: festivals parody rites, memes immortalise Howie’s fall. Both films interrogate secularism’s void, filled by neopagan allure amid climate dread.

Production hurdles add lore: Hardy’s battles with British Lion cuts, Aster’s script trims from five-hour epic. Censorship fears—BBFC scrutiny, MPAA tweaks—highlight boundary-pushing.

Director in the Spotlight

Robin Hardy, born Christopher Robin Hardy on 2 October 1929 in Surrey, England, emerged from a theatrical family, his father a producer. Educated at Rugby School and Oxford, where he read English, Hardy directed theatre before television, helming episodes of The Avengers (1960s). His feature debut The Wicker Man (1973) cemented folk horror legend status, blending horror with musical elements after collaborating with Paul Giovanni.

Hardy’s career spanned commercials and docs, but horror defined him. The Fantasist (1986), a psychological Irish thriller starring Moira Harris, explored repressed desires. He revisited Summerisle with The Wicker Tree (2011), sequel starring Graham McTavish and Jacqueline Leonard, critiquing American evangelism amid Scottish paganism—mixed reviews but fan devotion. The Wicker Man Revealed (2001) documentary unpacked the original’s making.

Influenced by Powell and Pressburger, Hardy infused myth into modernity. Knighted for services to film? No, but revered at festivals. He directed Suicide Brigade (unfinished), shorts like Land of the Pharaohs. Passed 20 July 2016, legacy endures via BFI restorations. Filmography highlights: The Wicker Man (1973, cult classic); The Fantasist (1986, ghost story); The Wicker Tree (2011, sequel); TV: Out of the Unknown (1965), Robin Hood (1950s).

Actor in the Spotlight

Florence Pugh, born 3 January 1996 in Oxford, England, to a family blending dance and hospitality, displayed talent early. Home-schooled, she trained at Mountview Academy, debuting in The Falling (2014) as a hysteric teen, earning acclaim. Midsommar (2019) breakout saw her as Dani, raw grief propelling Ari Aster’s vision, Cannes standing ovation.

Rise accelerated: Fighting with My Family (2019) as wrestler Paige, Little Women (2019) Amy March, Oscar nod. Mickey’s Christmas Carol voice work preceded blockbusters. Black Widow (2021) Yelena Belova, MCU mainstay; The Wonder (2022) Netflix nun, BAFTA nod; Oppenheimer (2023) Jean Tatlock, ensemble acclaim.

Pugh champions independence, producing via Bronze Age banner. Relationships with Zach Braff, Olivier Richters noted tabloid-wise. Influences: Cate Blanchett, Emma Thompson. Filmography: The Falling (2014, drama debut); Lady Macbeth (2016, BIFA win); Midsommar (2019, horror pinnacle); Little Women (2019, Oscar nom); Mank (2020, Hearst); Don’t Worry Darling (2022, controversy); The Wonder (2022, period); Oppenheimer (2023, biopic); Dune: Part Two (2024, Princess Irulan); We Live in Time (2024, rom-dram with Andrew Garfield).

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Bibliography

Scovell, A. (2017) Folk Horror: Hours Dreadful and Things Strange. Wallflower Press.

Hardy, R. (2001) The Wicker Man Revealed. Empire Pictures.

Aster, A. (2019) Midsommar: Director’s Commentary. A24 Studios. Available at: https://www.a24films.com/notes/midsommar (Accessed 15 October 2024).

Frazer, J. G. (1890) The Golden Bough. Macmillan.

Harper, S. (2000) Splintered Light: The Films of Robin Hardy. Reynolds & Hearn.

Kendrick, J. (2020) A24 Horror: Anatomy of Elevated Terror. University of Texas Press.

Lee, C. (1978) Tall, Dark and Gruesome. Victor Gollancz.

Pugh, F. (2023) Interview: Empire Magazine, Issue 412. Available at: https://www.empireonline.com/interviews/florence-pugh-oppenheimer/ (Accessed 15 October 2024).

Shaffer, A. (1978) The Wicker Man script notes. British Film Institute Archives.

Woodward, E. (2001) It’s an Ill Wind. Sidgwick & Jackson.