Who Knew Christopher Lee's Hair Was so Awesome?

I recently got to see the 1973 British horror film The Wicker Man on the Big Screen. It had been on my radar for a long time, what with my unnatural love of early 70s transgressive films.

In a nutshell, a Scotts police sergeant (a pre-Breaker Morant Edward Woodward) travels to the Hebridean island Summerisle, in search of a girl missing from the main village. In the course of his investigation he discovers (not that anybody is hiding it) that the island is populated by pre-Christian pagans, benevolently governed by Laird Summerisle (Christopher Lee).

The premise “how would it be if a small community never accepted Christianity, but kept their old Celtic gods?” is a cut above standard horror templates, and I expected the easy conclusion--a Christian comes to town, and zap! He’s gotta go. But The Wicker Man surprised me by being subtle, by going deeper. The townspeople aren’t just wicked pagans; they’re quite happy with their lives, connected deeply to nature and the cycle of birth, joyous living, death, and rebirth. It’s Woodward’s character that seems pitiable, lashing out at a perfectly viable way of living, clinging to an imported religion that brings him little joy.

 The writer took pains to research the old religions of Northern Europe and show how modern people might live using a pagan ethical compass. It’s not a bad life. Lots of hanging out at the local pub (The Green Man, which should be a flag to any English majors out there), drinking, and having sex. (Not that staid, Christian sex in bedrooms with the lights off. Think orgies in the town park.) Refreshingly, the children are brought up knowing the Birds and the Bees, and sex is just another part of the cycle of life.

 

Of course, if the crops fail…well, I think we know what has to happen.

Christopher Lee has said that this was one of his favorite roles, and he obviously had a marvelous time. In fact he spearheaded the project, enlisting screenwriter Anthony Shaffer to create a script that would be more interesting than the Hammer horror roles he had been doing for the last decade.

Interestingly, none of the major actors are Scotts. However, Diane Cilento was married to a Scott at the time--Sean Connery. British horror fans may recognize Ingrid Pitt, the town librarian.

 

The Kids Love Miyazaki. Yes, They Do.

This weekend I watched My Neighbor Totoro with a theater packed full of kids and their parents. (It was the PSU campus theater, 5th Avenue Cinema, which meant the theater was rather small—still, it was the fullest I’ve ever seen it, and people were sitting on the floor in the back).

I won’t harp on the reasons you should go see Miyazaki’s works (although you should because they’re awesome, you heathen), but a few things came to mind.

The kids were very well-behaved—that is to say, they were sucked into the story, and paying attention. This is interesting considering that the spirits of the forest don’t even show up for a good 15 minutes.

Miyazaki, gratefully, does not hew to the Disney formula that demands comic sidekicks, princesses, and all that crap. He’s not afraid to let the camera linger over a beautifully-rendered landscape or closeup—to lead the audience gently, not prod them along like a carnival barker. When the pacing in a Disney movie threatens to slack, it's time to trot out a singing candlestick or two.

While Disney animation had greatly improved by the late 80s, it still had a two-dimensional, serviceable quality—it's slick, but not memorable. Miyazaki’s anime is gorgeous, with lush landscapes and closeups filled with meticulous details. I wonder if kids recognize that like the adults do.

Perhaps most importantly, in Totoro Miyazaki creates fantastic creatures that are benign, amusing, sometimes helpful—and also a bit scary. You’re not quite sure where they fit in the big scheme of things. None of the spirits of the forest talk. It’s understood that these spirits have always been in the forest, and they don’t have any truck with the religions of the humans. The father pays respect to them with his daughters, and asks them to watch over their family. But he does it politely, and maybe he’s not entirely being cheeky.  In my mind, the best childrens’ stories are a bit scary. That’s like catnip to a kid. Not shit-your-pants scary, but kids want to be scared a little. This is also what makes Spirited Away so awesome—you have no idea what the spirits are, if they’re good, if they’re evil, if they even notice the humans at all. They Just Are, going about business beyond mortal understanding. So you know, maybe you should treat them respectfully. Or just keep your distance.

Afterwards I asked my friend Nathan (who brought his family to the movie) what his kids thought of it. Four-year-old Evan was a bit apprehensive beforehand (because it might be scary!), but we assured him that he was totally tough enough to make it through.

"They thought it was awesome!"