Editor’s Note: This was originally published for FANGORIA on September 7, 2001, and we’re proud to share it as part of The Gingold Files.
There have been rumors floating around recently that, among many other unnecessary remakes, there is to be a new take on The Wicker Man, said to star Nicolas Cage. Trying to improve on the original is a fool’s errand, though given the censorious goings-on in the country recently, Wicker Man seems as timely now as ever. Inverting the usual horror formula of a corruptive force assaulting normality, the film plunges God-fearing Christian Sgt. Howie (Edward Woodward) into the pagan society of Summerisle, where he attempts to warn the inhabitants of the wages of their wicked ways. Viewed in the context of current events, he comes off as akin to everyone’s least favorite senator Joseph Lieberman, with a touch of the killjoy attitude of New York’s Mayor Rudy Giuliani.
It’s a measure of Wicker Man’s success that, working within a genre in which a figure like Howie is usually a straw man set up for a fall, he doesn’t come off as pitiful or unsympathetic. Neither, for that matter, are Summerisle’s inhabitants portrayed as villains, and indeed, the movie is not traditionally frightening until the final act. Rather, it is a triumph of atmosphere, characterization and a very quiet, growing menace that explodes at the climax. Denied appropriate video exposure in this country for years, Wicker Man finally receives worthy celebration in Anchor Bay’s special-edition DVD release, packaged in a handsome wooden box.
The big news is that while disc 1 presents the movie in its U.S. theatrical edition, disc 2 includes an “extended version” running 12 minutes longer, more closely reflecting the film as its makers intended (and granting scriptwriter Anthony Shaffer a possessory credit). The most significant addition is a lengthy pre-title sequence that follows Howie on the British mainland before he sets off for Summerisle. This material is certainly interesting to watch, but, sacrilegous as it may seem to say, the movie is better off without it. The story feels more of an atmospheric piece when set entirely on the island, and Howie’s character is more effectively conveyed through his interactions with its inhabitants than in the more on-the-nose manner in which he is presented in the prologue.
The other major restored scene involves Lord Summerisle (Christopher Lee) delivering a young man to be deflowered by Willow (Britt Ekland) while Howie watches. In the theatrical version, Willow’s seductive dance is moved up to this point in the narrative, not only to fill the gap but clearly to deliver the audience some nudity earlier in the film. In the shorter cut, the 1.85:1 transfer is very fine—clean and clear with colors that are excellent, yet no brighter than they should be. The additional scenes in the extended cut are more contrasty, with softer hues, but the mastering is good and they’re not so subpar as to be distracting. The longer version is presented in Dolby Digital mono sound that is not as sharp or crisp as the nicely varied 5.1 Surround audio on the theatrical edition.
In addition to various promotional material and biographies (which reveal that director Robin Hardy, producer Peter Snell and Lee are all collaborating on a new project called The Riding of the Laddie), the key supplement is a 35-minute documentary called The Wicker Man Enigma. Practically everyone who ever had anything to do with the film’s production or release is interviewed here, with Hardy starting off by saying these circumstances “should be considered a cautionary tale.” Art director Seamus Flannery notes that Hardy announced halfway through the shoot that the movie was actually a musical—and indeed, it showcases Lee’s singing voice a lot better than a certain other recent Anchor Bay release—while Roger Corman explains how he almost got to distribute the movie in the U.S., and why he didn’t.
The difficulties Wicker Man faced during and especially after its shoot, in fact, comprise the majority of the focus here. Editor Eric Boyd-Perkins discusses how he was instructed to recut the film at the producers’ whims, and sounds rather regretful for having done so, while Woodward points out that the feature’s troubled history has actually helped its reputation; we even meet the people responsible for its theatrical “rescue” in the States. Among the doc’s many fascinating visual accompaniments, including photos of the remains of the real Wicker Man, the saddest and most resonant is video footage of Britain’s M3 highway—under which Wicker Man’s negatives and outtakes were accidentally, and will likely always remain, entombed.
