The Wicker Man - Special Edition Director's Cut (2 disc set) [DVD] [1973]

This is one of the best British films ever made - simply that! Considering its pretty low budget it is staggering how good this is. There is no other film that compares to this, it really belongs in a genre all of its own. Made in a time when horror films were completely formulaic (the same is still true I guess) this film really broke the mold. I must have seen this film 20 or 30 times over the years and I still love it.

Christopher Lee (Lord Summerisle) describes this as his greatest moment. Perhaps you think well so what, he didn't have that many, but here he is excellent. Edward Woodward also gives a tremendous performance as Sergeant Howie. The other main actors maybe aren't so good but what really makes this film is the contribution of the bit part actors and extras many of whom were local repertory players or just members of the public. They give the film a real authentic feel. The script and the storyline are truly excellent and the ending still shocks.

But the absolute best thing about this is the music. Composed by Paul Giovanni. This has to be some of the most fitting film score ever written. It just goes with the film so well. To be honest I pretty much hate "musicals" but in the case of the Wicker Man I don't feel worried that people start bursting into song - it just goes so well with the storyline and adds the quirky feel that makes this film a cult classic.

The good thing about this release on DVD is that it gives you a chance to compare the butchered cinema release version (which most people will have seen as this is the version generally shown on TV) to the extended directors cut version which is infinitely better. A few of the scenes on this version are a little dodgy in quality due to the difficulties restoring this film (see the book "Inside the Wicker Man" which is also excellent). However the presence of scenes such as "Gently Johnny" certainly add to the film.

A genuine classic of British cinema.

I won't bother reviewing the film itself, as I'm sure most of you reading this are already fans, so I'll just stick to describing this new 3-disc release.

As many of you probably know, the film was considered too long for a commercial release by the typically clueless studio execs of the time, and was summarily hacked-down by about 15 minutes. In a depressing turn of events, the original negative of the film was lost, leaving no high quality method of restoring the missing footage.

Luckily for us, they were able to clip the missing footage into the main print, via the only full, unedited version in existence...a print owned by Roger Corman, the American king of exploitation pictures no less!

The quality of the missing scenes is not nearly as good as the rest of the film, making a list of "restored scenes" entirely unnecessary (you'll be able to tell), but it's probably the best we will ever get.

The package contains both the edited and newly restored versions of the film. The edited theatrical version has a very good transfer and 5.1 dolby sound mix. The Director's cut is presented in the aforementioned spotty video and mono audio.

The excellent commentary from the previous U.K. version is also included here (even if Christopher Lee comes off a bit cranky), as well as the original 35 minute featurette "The Wicker Man Enigma".

What's new is the freshly produced 60 minute documentary hosted by Mark Kermode. It's a wonderful and informative documentary, that suprisingly covers mostly different ground than the "Wicker Man Enigma", paying more attention to the genesis of the project and it's filming, rather than the "unfortunate fate" of the film covered in "Enigma".

You also get a soundtrack CD, which is something I've been waiting for forever. The sound quality is excellent, suprisingly so, although "The Landlord's daughter" is a different version than the one from the film. They must have lost the original. Also, there is no tracklisting for the CD, but that's a minor quibble.

This is a big upgrade for North American buyers, as we gain the new documentary as well as the soundtrack and commentary. U.K. buyers are only gaining the documentary, and soundtrack, but either way I think it's well worth the upgrade. Job well done!

They marketed films differently in those days. Today The Wicker Man would be sold as “from the writer of Sleuth”, for Anthony Shaffer penned the original stage classic that became the remarkable Olivier/Caine two-hander. Then audiences would know what to expect: a battle of wits between two men of diametrically opposed beliefs (Christopher Lee and Edward Woodward doubling the Olivier/Caine sparring), drawn across a plotline so full red herrings that the writer would not reveal his hand until the very last shot. All very cerebral. Arty.

But no, the film starred Christopher Lee and featured scream queen du jour Ingrid Pitt, so naturally the distributors sold it as another cheesy Hammer/Amicus gorefest. Except it had no monsters, no gore, was shot on location in faux documentary style, and featured a virgin Catholic policeman in the lead – a character who by 1973 standards was as hip as a prosthetic pelvis. Of course, the beer and chips brigade voted it the thumbs down and not even a double bill with Nic Roeg’s latest effort, Don’t Look Now, could save its fortune.

To be fair, like Sleuth there is a play on genres here. The Wicker Man does start out with more than a whiff of the gothic. A child is reported missing; a policeman (Sgt. Howie – Woodward) heads off to a remote Scottish island, Summerisle, to investigate; the locals are secretive. There are hints of paganism. Well, not hints - and this is where The Wicker Man deviates from formula. The paganism on the island is pretty blatant, and presented not in a witches-and-covens way, but a wholly up to date, natural, eco-friendly, organic manner. We feel for Howie as he tries to find out what happens to the girl, but frankly the islanders seem to have it made, and their idyllic lifestyle seems far more rational and modern – not to mention more appealing – than the pre-Reformation beliefs of the repressed and repressive policeman (who even turns down the charms of Britt Ekland because he’s saving himself for his forthcoming nuptials – by God, if ever there was a man who needed a bit of how’s-your-father to remove the bug from up his backside . . .). In fact, by the time we meet the charming Lord Summerisle (Lee) we begin to wonder just who is the goodie and who is the baddie.

And best to stop there. Some horror films jolt at regular intervals, even the so-called hi-brow ones like The Exorcist and The Shining. But The Wicker Man is more in line with George Sluizer’s excellent The Vanishing; a seemingly innocuous work that keeps its sucker punch right until the end. In fact, up to that last moment you’ll probably be wondering just what the fuss is about – and then it will hit you. Admittedly part of the film's intellectual clout has been lost: we naturally start out on Howie’s side, but that wouldn’t have necessarily be true for the early seventies cinema-going audience Schaffer was writing for (i.e. young, possibly college-educated, probably anti-authoritarian, certainly hippy). In fact, the film acquired its cult following not for its ethical debate (Howie vs Summerisle; old fashioned Catholic morality versus liberal paganism) as its stylistic approach; in an age when horror movies were the staple of British cinema, The Wicker Man stands as possibly the only one to take the genre seriously and not rely on fantasy or guignol.

And therein lies its power. Hardy’s direction is admirable not for its flourishes (of which there are few) but his deft sidestepping of cliché. Gone are the usual long shadows and skewed angles, replaced by sunshine, golden scenery and a naturalistic feel which, in its eye for local detail, sometimes feels like one of those tourist information films you used to get as the b-movie back in the seventies (remember the film on Leeds which opens The Full Monty?). The cast too avoid the usual screaming and mugging. Woodward was always too starchy, too much the martinet to truly appeal as a male lead, but Hardy uses this to his advantage, making it the foundation of the less-than-likeable Sgt. Howie (he’s the protagonist, not the “hero”). With Lee he takes the opposite approach: usually the charming villain, Lee is for once just charming – no steely glint, no subtle undertone of ruthlessness. Indeed, that is what makes him so unnerving (he’s the antagonist, not the "villain” per se). Even the minor supporting characters excel, seeming like real residents not the stereotyped villagers Hammer churned out. Good Lord, even the village actually looks like a real village, not a fibreglass and plywood construction on a Bray soundstage. And the denouement? That also looks real. My God does it look real.

Too real.

And now on DVD we get the director’s cut. Almost – Hardy has only been able to restore 15 minutes of footage (the rest apparently lost under the tarmac of one of Britain’s major motorways). He has, quite rightly, griped that his original cut was butchered for release – and it was – but if this restored version is any indication, the movie would still have got short shrift from cinema audiences. Like the restored versions of Spartacus, Aliens, Lawrence of Arabia and Apocalypse Now, it plugs a few plot gaps and feels a little more rounded but doesn’t tell us anything the original, however emasculated, didn’t. Indeed, like the recent “version you’ve never seen” of The Exorcist, what was implied (i.e. Howie’s faith, his virginity; the islanders' liberal attitude toward sex) is now stated rather more bluntly. The DVD includes both versions, so you can take your pick (though alas, the iffy quality of the restored footage does stick out like a sore thumb). But even in its bowdlerized form - lost, hacked, miss-marketed and finally fobbed off on the b-movie circuit - The Wicker Man stands as the finest film either Hardy, Schaffer, Woodward, Pitt, Ekland or Lee, yes even Lee, has made.