In the fog-shrouded wilds of 17th-century New England and the rain-lashed villages of rural Korea, two families confront the abyss of the unknown. But which film’s descent into madness cuts deeper?
Psychological horror thrives on the erosion of certainty, where faith crumbles under the weight of unseen forces. Robert Eggers’s The Witch (2015) and Na Hong-jin’s The Wailing (2016) stand as towering achievements in this subgenre, each weaving folklore, family strife, and supernatural dread into tapestries of unrelenting tension. This analysis pits their masterful constructions against one another, probing atmospheres, themes, and impacts to crown a champion of cerebral terror.
- Atmospheric mastery: How each film crafts dread through isolation, sound, and symbolism.
- Thematic depths: Explorations of faith, possession, and societal collapse in Puritan America and modern Korea.
- Verdict on supremacy: Which one lingers longer in the collective nightmare.
Wilderness of the Soul: Unveiling the Narratives
The Puritan family’s exile from their plantation community in 1630s New England sets the stage for The Witch, where isolation amplifies every creak of the forest and whisper of suspicion. William, the stern patriarch played by Ralph Ineson, leads his wife Katherine (Kate Dickie) and children Thomasin (Anya Taylor-Joy), Caleb (Harvey Scrimshaw), Mercy (Ellie Grainger), and Jonas (Lucas Dawson) into a clearing that promises piety but delivers perdition. As crops fail and infant Samuel vanishes in a puff of black smoke before Thomasin’s eyes, paranoia festers. Accusations fly, goats bleat unnaturally, and puberty’s stirrings blur with witchcraft’s temptations, culminating in a confrontation that shatters their godly pretensions.
Contrast this with The Wailing‘s contemporary South Korean village, Goksong, where policeman Jong-goo (Kwak Do-won) investigates a string of gruesome murders following a mysterious Japanese stranger’s arrival (Jun Kunimura). His daughter Hyo-jin (Kim Hwan-hee) falls victim to a feverish possession, her body convulsing in rituals that mock Christian exorcism. Shaman Kwak (Hwang Jung-min) and pastor aid the desperate father, but conflicting beliefs—Shamanism, Christianity, and ancient grudges—entwine in a labyrinthine plot spanning shamanistic rites, ghostly apparitions, and village folklore. Na Hong-jin balloons the runtime to nearly three hours, layering clues like a K-drama thriller laced with cosmic horror.
Both films eschew cheap jumps, favouring slow-burn immersion. Eggers roots his tale in primary sources like Cotton Mather’s witch trial accounts, lending authenticity to the dialogue’s archaic cadence. Na draws from Korean ghost stories and Jeju Island legends, embedding cultural specificity that demands subtitles for full appreciation. Yet where The Witch confines its terror to one family’s implosion, The Wailing sprawls outward, implicating an entire community in a web of deceit and damnation.
Folklore’s Claws: Myths that Maim
Folklore pulses as the lifeblood of both narratives, transforming abstract fears into tangible horrors. In The Witch, Black Phillip the goat embodies the devil of European grimoires, his eloquent temptations echoing the Faustian bargains of medieval tales. Eggers consulted 17th-century diaries and trial transcripts, ensuring the witch’s form—a crone who seduces with promises of butter and finery—mirrors historical accusations. This grounding elevates the film beyond fantasy, positioning it as a folk horror milestone akin to Midsommar‘s pagan rites.
The Wailing delves into gwishin spirits and mudang shamanism, with rituals invoking multi-headed deities and blood-soaked talismans. The stranger’s role evokes colonial resentments from Japan’s occupation era, blending personal hauntings with national trauma. Na’s script proliferates red herrings—corpses with spotted skin, a photographer’s cursed camera—mirroring the Rashomon-like unreliability of witness testimonies. This mythological density rewards rewatches, uncovering layers absent in The Witch‘s more linear descent.
Symbolism saturates each frame: the witch’s broomless flight through trees evokes Walpurgisnacht sabbaths, while The Wailing‘s mountain hikes recall Korean folktales of dokkaebi goblins. Both exploit nature’s hostility—the forest devours in Eggers’s vision, rain drowns truth in Na’s—yet The Wailing‘s broader canvas integrates ghosts as societal metaphors, outpacing The Witch‘s intimate allegory.
Faith’s Fractured Mirror: Religion Under Siege
Religious conviction forms the crux of psychological unraveling. The Puritan family’s Calvinist zeal—endless prayers, scorn for vanity—cracks under affliction, exposing hypocrisy. William’s prideful crop failures indict his leadership, while Thomasin’s budding womanhood invites charges of Eve-like sin. Eggers captures this through stark lighting, shadows elongating like accusing fingers, forcing viewers to question divine justice.
In The Wailing, syncretism reigns: Jong-goo’s nominal Christianity clashes with shamanistic fury and Buddhist undertones. The pastor’s failed exorcism, complete with speaking in tongues, parodies Western imports amid indigenous rites. Na critiques blind faith, as characters chase salvation through increasingly desperate measures, their rituals devolving into farce and frenzy.
Possession motifs unite them— Caleb’s fevered visions parallel Hyo-jin’s contortions—but The Wailing escalates to village-wide hysteria, echoing Korean shamanic history. Both indict dogma’s fragility, yet Na’s pluralistic chaos amplifies the existential void more potently than Eggers’s monochromatic piety.
Cinematic Conjuring: Style and Sonic Spells
Eggers’s cinematography, by Jarin Blaschke, employs natural light filtering through 17th-century lenses, casting tableaux vivants reminiscent of Vermeer paintings twisted infernal. The 1.66:1 aspect ratio boxes characters in fate’s frame, while Mark Korven’s score—taut strings and dissonant choirs—mimics period sackbuts, burrowing into the skull.
Na’s widescreen vistas, shot by Hong Kyung-pyo, swallow protagonists in mist-shrouded mountains, the 2.35:1 frame emphasising vulnerability. Jang Young-gyu’s sound design layers rustling leaves, guttural chants, and thunderous drums, building to operatic crescendos. Practical effects shine: bulging veins and writhing bodies crafted by makeup wizard Kwak Tae-wan outmatch digital shortcuts.
Mise-en-scène excels mutually—the Witch family’s hovel reeks authenticity, thatched roof dripping realism, while Goksong’s neon-lit police station juxtaposes mundane with macabre. Yet The Wailing‘s kinetic chases and hallucinatory flourishes inject visceral propulsion absent in The Witch‘s deliberate stasis.
Portraits in Peril: Performances that Possess
Anya Taylor-Joy’s Thomasin evolves from dutiful daughter to defiant witch-in-waiting, her wide eyes conveying terror and allure. Ralph Ineson anchors the ensemble with gravel-voiced gravitas, his breakdown a masterclass in repressed rage. The children’s eerie harmonies in song chill deeper than any scream.
Kwak Do-won imbues Jong-goo with everyman desperation, his arc from bumbling cop to berserk father riveting. Jun Kunimura’s enigmatic stranger slithers menace through subtlety, while child actress Kim Hwan-hee steals scenes in possession throes, her contortions Oscar-worthy in intensity.
Ensembles shine, but Na’s larger cast allows broader emotional spectra, edging Eggers’s tighter focus.
Effects of the Ethereal: Practical Nightmares
The Witch relies on minimalism: practical goat prosthetics for Black Phillip, makeup for the hag’s decay, and stop-motion for Samuel’s fate, evoking early Hammer horrors. Blaschke’s lighting conjures apparitions without CGI, preserving tactility.
The Wailing deploys elaborate prosthetics—Hyo-jin’s transformation rivals The Exorcist—with blood cascades and puppetry in rituals. Na blends wirework for ghostly ascents, crafting illusions that feel corporeally wrong, heightening psychological unease.
Na’s bolder effects integrate seamlessly, amplifying dread where Eggers’s restraint mesmerises.
Legacy’s Long Shadow: Ripples Through Horror
The Witch birthed Eggers’s auteur status, influencing A24’s folk horror wave like Hereditary and Midsommar. Its feminist reclamation of witch tropes endures in academia.
The Wailing propelled Korean horror globally, paving for Train to Busan and Parasite‘s genre blends. Festivals hailed its ambition, cementing Na’s visionary rep.
Both redefined psychological boundaries, but The Wailing‘s epic scope echoes louder.
The Ultimate Haunting: Crowning the King
While The Witch excels in purity—unflinching historical immersion and intimate terror—The Wailing triumphs through audacious sprawl, cultural fusion, and unrelenting momentum. Its labyrinthine mysteries and communal apocalypse burrow deeper, making it the superior psychological scourge. Eggers perfects the microcosm; Na conquers the macrocosm.
Director in the Spotlight
Robert Eggers, born July 7, 1983, in New Hampshire, grew up immersed in maritime folklore from his fishing family roots. A self-taught filmmaker, he worked as a production assistant on films like Che before crafting shorts that caught Ari Aster’s eye. His feature debut The Witch (2015) stunned Sundance, earning acclaim for its period accuracy sourced from exhaustive research into Plymouth Colony journals. Eggers followed with The Lighthouse (2019), a claustrophobic black-and-white duel starring Willem Dafoe and Eggers’s uncle, Paddy Considine, delving into Melvillean madness. The Northman (2022) scaled epic with Alexander Skarsgård in a Viking revenge saga drawn from Norse sagas and Shakespeare. Influences span Bergman, Tarkovsky, and Powell, evident in his painterly frames. Upcoming projects include a live-action Nosferatu remake (2024), promising Gothic grandeur. Eggers’s oeuvre champions mythic masculinity and historical hauntings, cementing him as horror’s new formalist.
Actor in the Spotlight
Kwak Do-won, born February 10, 1973, in South Korea, honed his craft at the Seoul Institute of the Arts after army service. Debuting in theatre, he transitioned to film with Antique Bakery (2008), but broke through in Na Hong-jin’s The Wailing (2016) as the harried cop, earning Best Actor nods at Blue Dragon Awards. His everyman intensity shone in The Man from Nowhere (2010) as a vengeful neighbour and Silenced (2011), a teacher exposing abuse. Television triumphs include Signal (2016) as a time-travelling detective, netting multiple Baeksang Arts Awards. Recent roles encompass Phantom (2023), a WWII spy thriller, and Moving (2023 series) as a superpowered father. With over 50 credits, Kwak masters moral ambiguity, from New Trial (2017)’s wrongful conviction fighter to Samjin Company English Class (2020)’s whistleblower. No major international accolades yet, but his raw authenticity demands wider recognition.
Which psychological nightmare grips you tighter? Dive into the comments and join the debate!
Bibliography
Scovell, A. (2017) Folk Horror: Hours Dreadful and Things Strange. Hatchet Film. Available at: https://hatchetfilm.com (Accessed 15 October 2024).
Eggers, R. (2016) ‘The Witch: A Conversation with Robert Eggers’, Sight & Sound, 26(3), pp. 34-38.
Kim, Y. (2018) ‘Shamanism and the Supernatural in Contemporary Korean Cinema’, Journal of Korean Studies, 23(1), pp. 145-170.
Na, H. (2017) The Wailing: Director’s Notes. CJ Entertainment Archives.
Blaschke, J. (2020) ‘Lighting the Witch: Period Authenticity in Horror’, American Cinematographer, 101(5), pp. 22-29.
Hunt, L. (2019) A24: The Unholy Trinity of Culture, Commerce, and Cinema. University of Texas Press.
Park, S. (2021) ‘Possession Cinema: From The Exorcist to The Wailing’, Asian Cinema, 32(2), pp. 210-235. Available at: https://www.tandfonline.com (Accessed 15 October 2024).