Horror movie makers sometimes consider religion as a cheap add-on to a plot. Little do they realize that a carefully constructed religion can convey very real fear. The Wicker Tree (2011), spiritual successor to The Wicker Man (1973), demonstrates this distinction clearly.
The Wicker Man, released the same year as The Exorcist, had something in common with that vastly more successful movie. The main theme of both is based on religion out of time. Father Karras doesn’t believe in demons, not in the modern 1970s! Meanwhile, on the island of Summerisle, Sergeant Neil Howie is confronting revivalist pagans who will eventually kill him as a sacrifice to their old gods. Such people hadn’t existed, he assumed, since the days of the Venerable Bede. The seventies were part of the pivot period for religion in horror. Certainly, religion has been part of horror from the very beginning (Dracula and his crucifix, Henry Frankenstein knowing what it feels like to be God), but it was brought to the foreground beginning in 1968 with Rosemary’s Baby. Then The Wicker Man showed that religious plots could be transatlantic. The movie, however, had greater success in the United States than in the United Kingdom.
Lord Summerisle from the vastly superior The Wicker Man
The story of the distribution woes of Wicker Man is legendary. British Lion, the production company backing the film, was sold before the movie was finished. The new management didn’t like the film and refused to promote it. It was cut down by about 14 minutes before being grudgingly released, leading to disagreements as to which version is the authentic story. Entire books have been written about it. Then came the ultimate insult—a far inferior remake. While there are some clever turns in Neil LaBute’s 2006 rendition, it was a dismal failure. One of the reasons for that failure is that it really doesn’t understand religion and horror.
Anthony Shaffer, the screenwriter for the original movie, left behind a sequel entitled The Loathsome Lambton Worm. It was never filmed, but Shaffer’s sensitivity to religion and horror suggests it would’ve been better than the remake. Robin Hardy, the director of the original movie, also began work on his own sequel. In various interviews, he talks about it and gives it several titles, including Cowboys for Christ. That was the title of the novel he wrote, the one the movie was based on. The film came to be called The Wicker Tree, and was released in 2011, just five years before Hardy died.
“Cowboys for Christ”
Critics call The Wicker Tree a “spiritual successor” to The Wicker Man. It isn’t a sequel, and it isn’t the same story. Not exactly, anyway. Wicker Tree doesn’t live up to Wicker Man, but it does understand that horror can be driven utterly by religion. There are too many holes in the plot that an adept writer such as Shaffer would’ve adroitly plugged, but we’re left with the film as it stands. There’s no dispute about which version is canonical.
The Wicker Tree follows a couple of American evangelists (religion is foremost) sent to convert those fallen souls in Scotland. Although modern readers might be tempted to snigger, such things do actually happen. The missionary couple—engaged but chaste—is from Texas, thus “Cowboys for Christ.” Beth Boothby and Steve Thompson are met in Scotland by the dastardly Sir Lachlan Morrison who invites them to Tressock, where, he assures them, the folk will listen. Sir Lachlan runs a nuclear power plant that has rendered the men of Tressock infertile (remember, this doesn’t live up to The Wicker Man!). He keeps alive an old religion he doesn’t really believe that apparently requires two human sacrifices—both Beth and Steve must die. He does this cynically to reassure the people he knows he harms.
The crowd eating the “laddie”
For its May Day celebration, Tressock requires a May Queen—something Midsommar (2019) presented with considerable deftness—and a “laddie.” A sexual double-standard takes place, however. Beth remains virginal to be skinned and stuffed as part of a taxidermic collection of May Queens, while Steve has sex with a local temptress and is for some reason torn apart and eaten by the villagers. Beth, who hasn’t been stuffed yet, learns of Steve’s death and burns Sir Lachlan to death at the eponymous wicker tree. She is then captured and stuffed.
The movie doesn’t work as well as The Wicker Man and one of the main reasons seems to be that it doesn’t understand the religions it utilizes. Indeed, it’s based entirely on religions it doesn’t comprehend. Beth and Steve are presented as born-again evangelicals. She’s a singer with a past, but not going as far as actually having sex, and he’s just a cowboy who loves Jesus. Their behavior doesn’t match their characters. Although they make out in hotel rooms, they always stop shy of intercourse. That’s realistic enough. They both swear, however, and drink. And dance. Steve even plays cards. These are all done so casually and naturally that anyone who understands evangelicals of the old school would find it difficult to suspend disbelief. And Steve decides to have sex with a stranger as soon as he has the chance. None of this tracks with evangelical thinking.
The evangelizing concerts Beth Boothby performs in Scotland seem ad hoc. In reality, a typical evangelical concert will pack a venue. It’s almost as if a lack of belief on the part of the writer/director translates to a lack of enthusiasm to show the rare positive aspects of evangelicalism. Their theology may be found wanting, but they do know how to put on a show.
A servant dusting the taxidermy May Queens
The pagans don’t fare much better either. The titular idea of a wicker tree, which isn’t a trap for a hapless victim, seems pointless and anticlimactic. The explanation for dismembering and eating a “laddie” doesn’t match historic Celtic practice. Sir Lachlan is aware that his plant is causing sterility and he’s not a true believer in the religion he propagates. It’s never explained what benefit a stuffed May Queen serves. Unlike The Wicker Man this seems like plain old premeditated murder.
While not specifically about religious representation, another comparison where Tree fails in relation to Wicker Man is in the religious empowerment of women. The Wicker Man famously featured women as central to its religion. The fertility nature of the paganism on Summerisle venerates the female as well as the male. The Wicker Tree insists Beth remain a virgin, but no explanation is given. Steve seems to be a stud for the community (but if so then why not keep him around? He’s certainly willing enough). Such a story tacitly devalues the women of Tressock.
Religion and horror have been successfully collaborating for over half a century. To make this marriage work, however, writers and directors must try to understand the religion they present. Otherwise a spiritual successor may be a step toward a less sophisticated presentation that fails to make believers of us all.
Steve A. Wiggins is an independent scholar who has taught at the University of Wisconsin Oshkosh, Carroll College, and Rutgers and Montclair State Universities. He is the author of Holy Horror: The Bible and Fear in Movies (McFarland, 2018). and Nightmares with the Bible: The Good Book and Cinematic Demons (Lexington Books, 2021), which we review here. Check out his website. Steve has also written for Horror Homeroom on “The Golem as the Perfect Monster” and sex and death in The Lighthouse and The Witch.
Check out our review of Steve’s book, Nightmare with the Bible: The Good Book and Cinematic Demons, here.
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