Writer-director Robert Eggers’ 2016 horror movie “The Witch” is steeped in Christianity; it’s right up there with “The Exorcist” and “The Conjuring.” Yet, unlike the “faith-based” genre (think Pure Flix), it doesn’t exist mainly to promote the virtues of faith. Rather, it examines the ways in which faith both works and falls short in the battle against insidious evil.
Set in 1630s New England and billing itself as a “New England folktale,” Eggers’ film incorporates numerous tropes of the witchcraft genre — paranoia, scapegoating (with an actual goat!), and spiritual warfare — while still feeling fresh, arresting and unsettling. The movie also makes observations I only wish no longer applied to our world. Unfortunately, their continued relevance attests to the staying power of some frightening human frailties.
Like most films, “The Witch” won’t benefit from having its plot spoiled, so I’ll make every effort not to do so. However, the opening scene provides a framework that sets this tale of witchery apart from many others, and in so doing powerfully reinforces its commentary about human nature. In the film’s first minutes, William and Katherine, parents of five children, are forced to leave their village, apparently due to William’s “prideful conceit”; his alleged misdeeds aren’t explained further. As the village council delivers its ruling, William declares that if the fervor of his faith in God is the true reason for his family’s banishment, as he clearly believes it is, then he is more than happy to leave.
Most narratives about 1600s witchcraft, such as Arthur Miller’s “The Crucible” and the TV show “Salem,” focus on the persecution of a few so-called witches by an increasingly paranoid and bloodthirsty village. “The Witch” removes the village, leaving only the members of the family to turn on each other. The village isn’t the root of the problem; the fearful human heart and mind are the true culprits. Even if there is an actual witch, her best trick is to play on mortals’ fears without making herself known. (I can think of at least a few prominent figures today who sow distrust and xenophobia without acknowledging their own pernicious role.)
What “The Witch” drives home is that humans, even those with strong faith in God, are often unable to recognize that their perspective is clouded by bias rooted in fear. Even today, when tragedy besets us, we feel compelled to determine its cause. Too often, we end up pointing fingers.
In April, “The Daily Show” ran a segment on Americans’ tendency to mistake Sikhs for Muslims. One of its most touching moments came when correspondent Hasan Minhaj asked a group of American Sikhs why they don’t simply tell people, “Hey, I’m not Muslim.” A member of the group replied: “It’s just not an option for us to throw another community under the bus.” Yet often, as happens in “The Witch,” when the finger of blame is pointed at one vulnerable person or group, it’s all too easy for that person or group to shift the blame to another.
Last month, seemingly endless speculation about what motivated the Orlando shooter reflected our almost unreasonable need for answers when horror befalls us. We may even blame others under the pretense of seeking truth; witness the shameful incident of refugee scapegoating that occurred recently in Twin Falls. We need desperately to push the horror far away from ourselves and make it stick to someone else.
Proponents of “bathroom bills” describe them as a needed tool in the effort to prevent sexual assault. Yet an atmosphere of witch hunts and scapegoating, with transgender people as its focus, is their most concrete result. Meanwhile, convicted rapist Brock Turner, whose family’s public statements ooze obliviousness and rape culture — the real evils that contribute to sexual assault — continues to evade appropriate punishment.
Like so many devout 17th-century New Englanders, our society too often looks in the wrong places for evil and does too little to confront it where it truly dwells.
The real debate today is if evil is real or just a matter of opinion. It’s usually someone else.
The search for evil should almost always start in the mirror.
And that’s certainly one of the film’s main messages. As is usually true of stories about witchcraft. Like that modern masterpiece “The Craft”! Just kidding. Kind of. Fairuza Balk!
Disqus isn’t letting me reply to Eric directly. But here’s what I wrote:
I mean, to me “evil” is a word that suggests extreme malice and cruelty. I don’t believe in evil as some kind of free-floating substance in the world, and I don’t think we’re sinners at birth. But that’s liberal Judaism for ya.