In the flickering candlelight of a 17th-century farmstead, a family’s faith dissolves into primal dread, revealing witchcraft as horrors ultimate metaphor for the unknown.

 

Robert Eggers debut feature The Witch (2015) captures the raw terror of Puritan paranoia, transforming historical folktales into a suffocating nightmare that lingers long after the credits roll. This film stands as a cornerstone of modern witchcraft horror, blending authenticity with visceral unease to dissect the fractures within faith, family, and femininity.

 

  • Explore the films meticulous recreation of 1630s New England, grounding supernatural dread in historical witch lore.
  • Analyse how Eggers uses sound, shadow, and silence to amplify the creeping horror of accusation and isolation.
  • Uncover the subversive themes of female agency and patriarchal collapse that make The Witch a feminist triumph amid terror.

 

The Cauldron Stirs: Witchcrafts Cinematic Origins

Witchcraft has bubbled through horror cinema since its inception, drawing from medieval grimoires, Shakespearean incantations like the witches brew in Macbeth, and the hysteria of 17th-century trials. Films such as the silent Haxan (1922) by Benjamin Christensen presented witchcraft as a psychological affliction intertwined with religious zeal, setting a template for later works. By the 1970s, Dario Argento elevated the trope in Suspiria (1977), where a coven of ballerinas wields arcane power in garish, operatic slaughter. Yet it was Eggers who refined this into folk horror purity with The Witch, eschewing jump scares for an oppressive atmosphere rooted in period documents like Cotton Mathers Wonders of the Invisible World.

The seeds of witchcraft horror lie in collective anxieties over the feminine other, the outsider threatening societal order. Early slashers like The Craft (1996) modernised this with teen witches rebelling against bullies, their spells manifesting as body horror. Eggers, however, returns to origins, portraying the witch not as a cackling hag but a spectral force embodying repressed desires. His film opens with a pious family exiled from a plantation for ideological dissent, immediately thrusting viewers into a world where sin lurks in every shadow.

This lineage culminates in The Witchs deliberate pacing, where tension builds through mundane chores turning sinister: a baby vanishing into a woods crow, a goat staring with infernal intelligence. Eggers consulted historians and folklorists, ensuring every incantation echoes authentic sources, making the horror feel inexorably real.

Unravelling Threads: The Familys Descent

The narrative unfolds in 1630s New England, where William (Ralph Ineson) tends crops on a isolated farmstead with wife Katherine (Kate Dickie), eldest daughter Thomasin (Anya Taylor-Joy), twins Mercy and Jonas, and infant Samuel. Banished from their community, their Puritan certainty frays as misfortune mounts. Samuel disappears during Thomasins watch, crops fail, and paranoia festers. Accusations fly: Thomasin consorts with Satan, the goats Black Phillip embodies the devil. Culminating in a blood-soaked Sabbath, the film delivers a synopsis laced with dread, each event peeling back layers of repression.

Ineson delivers a towering performance as the patriarch clinging to scripture amid failure, his pride blinding him to familial rot. Dickies Katherine embodies maternal grief twisted into hysteria, her laments piercing the soundtrack. The twins provide eerie comic relief turned malevolent, their songs invoking childhood innocence corrupted. Yet Thomasin anchors the tale, her arc from dutiful girl to empowered witch a masterclass in subtle transformation, Taylor-Joys wide eyes registering confusion morphing into defiance.

Eggers structures the plot as a slow purge, mirroring witch trial transcripts where doubt spirals into damnation. Key scenes, like the midnight witchs sabbath, blend practical effects with hallucinatory fury, the crones naked forms cavorting in firelight a grotesque ballet of liberation.

Shadows and Whispers: Mastery of Mise-en-Scène

Cinematographer Jarin Blaschke employs natural light filtering through dour interiors, casting elongated shadows that swallow faces in doubt. The woods loom omnipresent, a foggy labyrinth symbolising the untamed feminine wilderness Puritans feared. Composition favours symmetry shattered by chaos: a family prayer disrupted by howling wind, frames tilting as sanity slips.

Sound design proves revolutionary, Mark Korvens score eschewing strings for eerie strings and period instruments like hurdy-gurdy, evoking isolation. Silences dominate, broken by rustling leaves or Black Phillips guttural bleats. Dialogue draws verbatim from 17th-century diaries, the archaic cadence heightening alienation. A pivotal scene has Thomasin confronting the goat, his voice (Willem Dafoe) a velvet temptation promising worldly freedom, underscoring the films sonic sorcery.

Mise-en-scène details abound: handwoven costumes stiff with starch, props like wooden cradles splintered by grief. Eggers rebuilt the farm using historical blueprints, immersing actors in authenticity that bleeds into performances raw with terror.

Black Phillips Pact: Symbolism Unleashed

Central to the symbolism stands Black Phillip, the familiars erect horns phallic threats to patriarchal order. His temptation of Thomasin flips biblical temptation, offering butter and fine dressings as lures to autonomy. The witch herself, glimpsed in grimy glory, embodies the crone archetype reborn, her nudity a rejection of modesty.

Religious iconography permeates: a hare frozen mid-flight evokes stasis of faith, apples recall original sin now familial. Blood motifs recur, from Samuel’s pulped remains slathered on the witch to the climactic frenzy, symbolising menstrual power long demonised.

Eggers layers metaphors masterfully, the title card A New-England Folktale nodding to oral traditions where witches lured the pious astray, transforming folklore into Freudian dread.

Puritan Fires: Historical Inferno

The Witch draws from real events, the 1692 Salem trials mere culmination of earlier panics chronicled in Mathers works. Eggers pored over trial records, capturing the misogyny where women bore accusations brunt: spectral evidence sufficed for conviction. The film critiques this legacy, portraying zealotry as self-fulfilling prophecy.

Compared to predecessors, it eschews Suspirias stylised gore for restraint, echoing The Blood on Satans Claw (1971)s folk rituals. Production faced challenges: shot in Ontario standing in for New England, cast endured 40-degree cold, Ineson losing weight for gaunt authenticity. Financing from scrappy indies led to A24s backing, propelling its cult ascent.

Censorship dodged by implication, the unrated cut preserves impact, influencing arthouse horrors like Hereditary (2018).

Feminine Fury: Gender and Empowerment

At core throbs feminist reclamation: Thomasins witchdom frees her from chores and chastity, nude strut through woods a rebirth. Katherine and the witch embody suppressed rage, their grief weaponised. Patriarchy crumbles as William chops wood futilely, his axe symbolising emasculated authority.

Class undertones simmer, the familys poverty fuelling blame on Thomasin, echoing historical witch hunts targeting margins. Sexuality simmers unspoken, twins songs laced with innuendo, puberty demonised. Eggers subverts expectations, the witch not villain but liberator from doctrinal chains.

This resonates today, amid reckonings with abuse hidden by piety, making The Witch prescient allegory.

Conjuring Illusions: Special Effects Sorcery

Practical effects dominate, eschewing CGI for tactile horror. Samuel’s transformation uses prosthetics: his fleshy form manipulated by puppeteers, smeared with real mud and blood. The sabbath orgy employs fire-retardant makeup on dancers, practical pyrotechnics bursting in crimson glory.

Black Phillips animatronic head delivers Dafoes whispers seamlessly, horns carved from wood for authenticity. Witchs flight achieved via wires and matte paintings, evoking Hammer horrors craft. Blaschkes 35mm Kodak stock enhances grainy dread, shadows swallowing details.

Effects serve story, never spectacle: the subtlety amplifies unease, proving less yields more in folk horror.

Eternal Hex: Legacy and Influence

The Witch spawned imitants, from Ari Asters matriarchal dreads to Midsommars daylight rituals. Its Cannes premiere heralded Eggers as auteur, box office triumph for A24. Remakes beckon, though purity resists bastardisation.

Culturally, it revived witch archetype, inspiring fashion, memes, Taylor-Joys breakout. Sequels mooted, but Eggers eyes Nosferatu. In witchcraft horrors pantheon, it reigns, proving old fears brew eternally potent brews.

 

Director in the Spotlight

Robert Eggers, born July 7, 1983, in Brooklyn, New York, emerged from theatre roots to redefine horror. Raised in a creative household, his mother an artist, father in finance, Eggers gravitated to performance early. At 14, his family moved to rural New Hampshire, immersing him in New England folklore that seeded The Witch. Self-taught filmmaker, he worked as production assistant on commercials, honing craft through short films like The Tell-Tale Heart (2008) and The Lighthouse prototype.

Breakthrough came with The Witch (2015), scripted from age 20, based on witch trial archives. Its success at Sundance launched his career. Next, The Lighthouse (2019) starred Willem Dafoe and Eggers muse Robert Pattinson in a black-and-white descent into madness, drawing Herman Melville influences, earning Oscar nods for cinematography. The Northman (2022) epic Viking revenge saga featured Alexander Skarsgard, Nicole Kidman, blending Shakespeare with Norse sagas, shot in harsh Iceland terrains.

Upcoming Nosferatu (2024) reimagines the 1922 silent classic with Bill Skarsgard as Count Orlok, Anya Taylor-Joy opposite, promising gothic grandeur. Influences span Dreyer, Bergman, Powell; Eggers obsesses detail, collaborating with sister Kathleen on production design. Married with children, he resides in New York, advocating practical effects. Filmography underscores historical horrors visceral power, cementing auteur status.

 

Actor in the Spotlight

Anya Taylor-Joy, born April 16, 1996, in Miami to Argentine-Zealandic photographer mother and Scottish-Argentine father, embodies ethereal intensity. Raised in Buenos Aires till five, then London, she faced bullies for appearance, training ballet till scoliosis halted. Discovered at 16 modelling, debuted acting in The Odyssey (2015) short before The Witch launched her as Thomasin, earning Gotham Award nomination at 19.

Breakout followed: Split (2016) as kidnapped teen opposite James McAvoy, then M. Night Shyamalans trilogy Glass (2019). Thoroughbreds (2017) indie thriller with Olivia Cooke showcased dark wit. Emma (2020) as Jane Austens heroine won BAFTA Rising Star. Netflixs The Queens Gambit (2020) as chess prodigy Beth Harmon exploded fame, seven Emmy noms, Golden Globe win.

Further: The Northman (2022) reunited with Eggers as Olga; The Menu (2022) satirical horror with Ralph Fiennes; Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga (2024) action prequel. Voices in Everyone Knows That and Simpsons. Upcoming Nosferatu, Frankenstein by Guillermo del Toro. Awards: Critics Choice, Saturn. Fluent Spanish, French, multilingual heritage fuels versatility. Private life, dated musician Malcolm McRae since 2021. Filmography spans horror (Last Night in Soho 2021), drama, marking generational talent.

 

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Bibliography

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Eggers, R. (2015) Director Robert Eggers on The Witch. Interview by Scott Tobias. The Dissolve. Available at: https://thedissolve.com/features/interview/1285-robert-eggers-on-the-witch/ (Accessed 10 October 2024).

Farrell, J. (2016) Ritual and the occult in folk horror. In: Scarsella, S. (ed.) Folk Horror: New Critical Essays. University of Wales Press.

Knee, M. (2016) The VVitch: A New-England Folktale. Sight and Sound, 26(4), pp. 56-57.

Korven, M. (2015) Composing the sound of The Witch. Interview by Film Score Monthly. Available at: https://www.filmscoremonthly.com/articles/2015/03/15-mark-korven-interview (Accessed 10 October 2024).

Mathers, C. (1693) Wonders of the Invisible World. Boston: John Dunton.

Mullan, R. (2021) Robert Eggers: A Portrait. New York: Abrams Books.

Taylor-Joy, A. (2020) Anya Taylor-Joy on The Queens Gambit and horror roots. Interview by Vanity Fair. Available at: https://www.vanityfair.com/hollywood/2020/11/anya-taylor-joy-queens-gambit (Accessed 10 October 2024).

Wilson, D. (2019) Folk Horror Revival: The VVitch and Contemporary Pagan Cinema. In: Smith, M. (ed.) Return of the Witchfinder. Wallflower Press, pp. 145-162.