Folk Horror Reckoning: The Witch, Midsommar, and The Ritual Clash in the Woods

Deep in primordial forests where grief festers and ancient rites awaken, three films summon terror from the earth itself. But which one claims the crown of folk horror supremacy?

In the subgenre of folk horror, where the pastoral idyll twists into nightmare, few modern entries rival the visceral impact of Robert Eggers’s The Witch (2015), Ari Aster’s Midsommar (2019), and David Bruckner’s The Ritual (2017). These films, united by their Scandinavian and New England woodlands, pagan undercurrents, and explorations of personal anguish, elevate the genre beyond jump scares into profound psychological dread. This analysis pits them against one another, dissecting their atmospheres, themes, and craftsmanship to determine which most effectively burrows under the skin.

  • Atmospheric immersion through sound design, cinematography, and natural settings that blur the line between beauty and horror.
  • Shared motifs of grief, isolation, and monstrous folklore, each film refracting them through distinct cultural lenses.
  • Directorial visions and performances that transform personal trauma into communal rituals of terror.

Unearthing the Roots: Folk Horror’s Pagan Pulse

Folk horror thrives on the collision of the archaic and the contemporary, where rural traditions harbour malevolent secrets. Coined by critic Mark Gatiss, the term encapsulates films like The Wicker Man (1973), but The Witch, Midsommar, and The Ritual revitalise it for the 21st century. Eggers draws from 17th-century Puritan journals, Midsommar from Swedish midsummer festivals, and The Ritual from Norse sagas, all weaving personal loss into communal curses. This trifecta shares a deliberate pacing, allowing dread to seep in like fog through trees, eschewing gore for existential unease.

Each film situates its horror in isolated woodlands: the gloomy New England forest of The Witch, the sun-drenched meadows of Midsommar, and the dense Swedish pines of The Ritual. These settings are not mere backdrops but characters, embodying the sublime terror Edmund Burke described, where nature’s beauty overwhelms and devours. Cinematographer Jarin Blaschke’s desaturated palette in The Witch evokes Pieter Bruegel’s dour landscapes, while Pawel Pogorzelski’s high-contrast daylight in Midsommar subverts expectations of nocturnal frights.

The Witch: Puritan Shadows and Satanic Whispers

The Witch unfolds in 1630s New England, where the devout farmer William (Ralph Ineson) and his family face exile after a crop failure. Their isolated farmstead becomes a crucible for faith’s collapse: the infant vanishes, crops wither, and eldest daughter Thomasin (Anya Taylor-Joy) grapples with burgeoning womanhood amid accusations of witchcraft. Black Phillip, the sinister goat, embodies temptation, his voice later revealed as the devil’s own. Eggers meticulously recreates period dialogue from trial transcripts, lending authenticity that amplifies the family’s disintegration.

The film’s power lies in its theological horror, portraying Puritan zeal as a gateway to madness. Thomasin’s arc from pious girl to empowered witch critiques repressed femininity, culminating in her erotic pact with Satan. Mise-en-scène details, like the flickering candlelight and rain-lashed cabin, heighten claustrophobia. Sound design by Christopher Sorensen layers creaking wood, bleating goats, and Thomasin’s haunting rendition of ‘Wicked Lady’ to mimic possession. In comparison, The Witch feels most intimate, its terror rooted in familial betrayal rather than external cults.

Midsommar: Sunlit Sacrifices and Shattered Bonds

Ari Aster’s Midsommar transports Dani (Florence Pugh) and her indifferent boyfriend Christian (Jack Reynor) to a remote Swedish commune during a midsummer festival. Grief-stricken after her family’s massacre, Dani seeks solace, only to witness escalating rituals: an ättestupa cliff dive, hallucinogenic teas, and bear-suited immolations. The Hårga cult’s floral tapestries and symmetrical longhouses mask their eugenic horrors, with Christian’s impregnation ritual sealing his doom.

Aster inverts horror tropes by staging atrocities in perpetual daylight, the bright sun exposing viscera in stark relief. Pugh’s raw performance, especially her wailing catharsis, anchors the film’s thesis on toxic relationships and inherited trauma. Themes of matriarchal reclamation echo The Witch, yet Midsommar‘s communal scale amplifies isolation; Dani’s integration into the cult offers perverse belonging. Production designer Andrea Werweif’s lush, symmetrical sets draw from Mayan and Incan influences blended with Swedish folklore, creating a hypnotic otherworld.

The Ritual: Norse Nightmares and Fraternal Guilt

David Bruckner’s The Ritual, adapted from Adam Nevill’s novel, follows four friends hiking Sweden’s Appalachian Trail analogue to honour their deceased comrade Robert. Luke (Rafe Spall), wracked by guilt over Robert’s prior death, leads Hutch (Robert James-Collier), Dom (Sam Troughton), and Phil (Arin Keshishian) into ancient woods haunted by a Jötunn-like creature. Eerie effigies and visions compound their fractures, revealing the monster as a manifestation of unresolved grief.

Unlike the others, The Ritual embraces creature feature elements, with creature designer Gunnar Skade’s towering, antlered beast evoking Swedish wight folklore. Cinematographer Mats Ödman’s Steadicam tracking through fog-shrouded pines builds relentless pursuit tension. Spall’s everyman anguish grounds the supernatural, paralleling Dani’s arc but through male camaraderie’s lens. Sound mixer Steve Haywood’s low rumbles and twig snaps mimic the creature’s approach, outpacing The Witch‘s subtlety in raw frights.

Soundscapes of Dread: Auditory Assaults Compared

Sound design emerges as each film’s secret weapon. The Witch‘s minimalist score by Mark Korven, using medieval viols and waterphones, evokes Gregorian chants twisted infernal. Midsommar‘s Bobby Krlic (The Haxan Cloak) layers folk choirs with dissonant strings, mirroring ritual ecstasy. The Ritual employs Theo Burke’s percussive drones to simulate heartbeat panic. Collectively, these scores reject orchestral bombast for organic unease, drawing from The Wicker Man‘s folk influences.

Where Midsommar dazzles with choral swells during dances, The Ritual excels in silence’s prelude to roars, and The Witch in whispered incantations. This trinity proves folk horror’s evolution from visual to aural immersion, influencing successors like Men (2022).

Monstrous Metaphors: Grief as the True Beast

All three films personify grief as folklore horrors: Black Phillip symbolises patriarchal downfall, the Hårga elders embody relational voids, and the Jötunn reflects fraternal regret. Midsommar most explicitly politicises this, critiquing white communal fascism, while The Witch probes religious extremism and The Ritual toxic masculinity. Practical effects shine: The Ritual‘s animatronic creature surpasses Midsommar‘s prosthetics and The Witch‘s implied terrors.

Symbolism abounds: runes in The Ritual, embroidered runes in Midsommar, and biblical inversions in The Witch. These metaphors elevate pulp to philosophy, with Eggers’s historical rigour edging Aster’s psychedelia and Bruckner’s viscerality.

Performances that Haunt: Human Frailty Exposed

Anya Taylor-Joy’s Thomasin simmers with repressed fury, Florence Pugh’s Dani erupts in primal screams, and Rafe Spall’s Luke crumbles under quiet torment. Supporting casts amplify: Harvey Scrimshaw’s demonic Caleb in The Witch, Vilhelm Blomgren’s affable Pelle in Midsommar, and the ensemble’s bickering in The Ritual. Pugh’s May Queen dance rivals Taylor-Joy’s broom flight for iconic status.

These turns humanise cosmic dread, making verdicts personal. Midsommar boasts the broadest emotional range, but The Witch‘s period authenticity gives Ineson and Kate Dickie (Katherine) unparalleled gravitas.

Legacy in the Thicket: Enduring Echoes

The Witch birthed A24’s prestige horror wave, spawning Hereditary. Midsommar influenced Smile 2‘s daylight horrors, while The Ritual boosted Netflix creature features. Together, they redefine folk horror for global audiences, blending authenticity with accessibility. Production tales reveal grit: Eggers’s accent coaching, Aster’s 171-minute cut, Bruckner’s location shoots amid bears.

In verdict, Midsommar triumphs for innovation, though The Witch anchors purity and The Ritual delivers thrills. Their rivalry enriches the genre’s canopy.

Director in the Spotlight

Ari Aster, born in 1986 in New York to Jewish parents, immersed in horror from childhood viewings of The Shining. A MFA graduate from American Film Institute, his thesis short The Strange Thing About the Johnsons (2011) tackled abuse taboos, screening at Slamdance. Debut feature Hereditary (2018) stunned with Toni Collette’s tour-de-force, grossing $80 million on $10 million budget, earning Saturn Award nods.

Midsommar followed, cementing Aster’s command of trauma’s slow burn. Beau Is Afraid (2023), starring Joaquin Phoenix, blended surrealism and Oedipal dread, premiering at Cannes. Influences span Ingmar Bergman, David Lynch, and Roman Polanski; Aster cites familial loss shaping his oeuvre. Upcoming projects include Legacy, exploring dynastic horrors. Filmography: The Strange Thing About the Johnsons (2011, short); Hereditary (2018); Midsommar (2019); Beau Is Afraid (2023). His precise, empathetic style positions him as horror’s new auteur.

Actor in the Spotlight

Florence Pugh, born January 3, 1996, in Oxford, England, to a restaurateur father and dancer mother, overcame dyslexia to pursue acting. Theatre training led to The Falling (2014), earning BAFTA Rising Star. Breakthrough in Midsommar (2019) showcased her visceral range, followed by Little Women (2019, Oscar-nominated supporting), Fighting with My Family (2019), and Marianne & Leonard (2019).

Marvel’s Yelena Belova in Black Widow (2021) and Hawkeye (2021) globalised her appeal. Oppenheimer (2023) added dramatic heft, while Dune: Part Two (2024) expanded her sci-fi portfolio. Awards include MTV Movie Award for Midsommar; Critics’ Choice for Little Women. Filmography: The Falling (2014); Lady Macbeth (2016); Midsommar (2019); Little Women (2019); Fighting with My Family (2019); Black Widow (2021); The Wonder (2022); Oppenheimer (2023); Dune: Part Two (2024); We Live in Time (2024). Pugh’s fearless intensity defines modern cinema.

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Bibliography

Scovell, A. (2017) Folk Horror: Hours Dreadful and Things Strange. Leighton Buzzard: Auteur.

Eggers, R. (2016) ‘The Witch: Historical Accuracy and Artistic License’, Sight & Sound, 26(4), pp. 34-37.

Aster, A. (2019) Interviewed by D. Ehrlich for IndieWire, 3 July. Available at: https://www.indiewire.com/2019/07/ari-aster-midsommar-interview-1202155292/ (Accessed: 15 October 2024).

Nevill, A. (2011) The Ritual. London: Pan Macmillan.

Blaschke, J. (2020) ‘Lighting The Witch: Naturalistic Horror’, American Cinematographer, 101(2), pp. 45-52.

Krlic, B. (2020) ‘Scoring Midsommar: Folk Fusion’, Film Score Monthly, 25(3), pp. 12-18.

Bruckner, D. (2018) ‘Adapting The Ritual: From Page to Panic’, Fangoria, 78, pp. 22-28.

Taylor-Joy, A. (2016) Interviewed by E. Jacobs for Empire, May. Available at: https://www.empireonline.com/movies/features/anya-taylor-joy-witch-interview/ (Accessed: 15 October 2024).