MIFF Session 17: WOODLANDS DARK AND DAYS BEWITCHED

The term folk horror goes back to the nineteenth century. More recently, it has been applied to cinema and exemplified by a trio of films known as the Unholy Trinity: The Blood on Satan's Claw, The Wicker Man and Witchfinder General. But, as this documentary is here to tell you, it goes well beyond those titles and their time ('60s-'70s) and is indeed alive and well in the already creaky feeling twenty-first century. I am a fan of this sub-genre and was eager to see this vaunted showcase. I was, however, concerned about its running time, a bum numbing three and a quarter hours. Sitting in a Forum seat for that long was not my idea of fun so it was after weeks of umming and erring that I chose it as it might be the only chance to see it. Then the lockdown took the pain from that decision and I was happy to rent it as a streaming feature.

We get right on it with some spooky sounding folk music and virtuoso montage and collage (the latter courtesy of outrider auteur Guy Maddin) and a mix of murmuring soundbites and a final introductory image of little Thomasin from the witch floating naked in the night among the wintry trees. I was in! This documentary is niche enough that it doesn't care that much in conversion, it's made by people who love their subject and are eager to talk about it. It felt like meeting strangers who sounded like life long friends and as the montage kept coming and the discussion kept rolling along with new titles to pursue and old obscurities to celebrate in an extended screening of mighty orgiastic joy.

So what happens then? What happens has to do with the problem of the running time. While great service is given to the Unholy Trinity and a good grab bag of context and theorising it just keeps going and starts (a little after the halfway mark) feeling crushed. It's like those people who begin writing signs without realising they won't have room for all the letters at that size. This is such a bold and sincere effort it pains me to pick at it but I would happily sit through ten hours if the kind of depth of the early chapters were given to the later ones. This would be a perfect mini series for the likes of Shudder. But as it is the later chapters that touch on intriguing issues like race and class in folk horror that are left mentioned more than examined. On the other hand ninety minutes of depth on a declared limited scope might turn the specialised audience off lest they pay to see something they already know. The superb American Nightmare (2000) kept to a decade but its point had to do with the times as much as the content but the material in Woodlands Dark is so far ranging that it wouldn't work so well in the first place. So, break it up, folk, let's have a series.

That said, this will still be hanging around the top of my best of the fest list for the expertise it offers and the luxuriant presentation. And if it does end up on Shudder I'll take it in bits, copying down titles and allowing more time for full absorption. And it will keep me going for years. Celebrations as refulgent as this come seldom and feel like great occasions. If you like your Wicker Man or The Witch you'll dig this like a prize garden.