Behind the Masks
The Wicker Man and Kill List
SPOILERS BELOW…
“Don’t you see that killing me is not going to bring back your apples?”
After watching Ben Wheatley’s 2011 kitchen sink realism / horror hybrid Kill List, it is hard not to see it as his 21st century response to the 1973 cult classic, The Wicker Man. Together the films make a perfect British horror double bill with their decline into the depths of folk horror that their plots share, and the ideas that are associated with the genre. Ideas that has pervaded the horror genre in the 38 years between the two films, and continue to be explored subsequently.
The Wicker Man has earned its title as the definitive folk horror masterpiece due to its depiction of crazed pagans so committed to their cause that all Christian morals have been laughed off of their island. The film’s opening titles are layered over sublime images of a hostile environment — the remote Scottish island, Summerisle — with the just-visible pinprick of a plane flying by, flown by the established devout Christian police officer, Sergeant Howie. Unknowingly at this point, Howie is embarking on a religious crusade of sorts. He is an alien in a foreign land, emphasised by a greeting from the islanders as hostile as their environment. The people of Summerisle practise a type of neo-paganism centred around ideas such as free love, spiritual connectedness and harmony with nature. Howie is shocked to learn that the children of the island are taught about the symbolic importance of the phallic maypole and by the islanders copulating openly in fields. He learns that the origin of the island’s paganism stems from the Lord of Summerisle’s grandfather, who used the island to grow exotic fruits and vegetables, and in turn used the religion to spur his workers on and keep their ideology in tune with a deluded belief that the crops could grow on a remote Scottish island.
The coven of occultists that lies at Kill List’s heart of darkness is also a neo-pagan, or perhaps druidic, cult. Some of them must have seen The Wicker Man, sporting straw masks and nothing but their birthday suits. It is these images that so easily evoke memories of the crazed pagans of Summerisle and their 50 foot wicker statue. Like its predecessor, Kill List portrays the real horror of cults and religious zealotry. Ideology can be a scary thing when followed so blindly. The pagans are not necessarily evil people, but members of such a devout religious community that they are willing to go to lengths such as self-sacrifice and the sacrifice of others simply as ritual. The unfortunate, or perhaps fortunate, members of the kill list are so committed to the cause that they do not fear death even as it stares them straight in the face in all its brutality.
The influence of The Wicker Man is not merely an aesthetic one. Wheatley wishes to emphasise that perhaps the biggest influence upon his film is the idea of a protagonist that is being lured into a trap by unseen dark forces. He describes Kill List as being constructed like a “mousetrap”. The promise of payment to the financially unstable Jay is Wheatley’s cheese, and the “reconstruction” that has been perfectly set up by the cult is his trap. Like the reorganising of a church, the cult appears to be undergoing a reshuffle and are unwittingly putting Jay through the worst job interview ever for the position of its new leader. Though he is told that his job is part of the reconstruction, Jay does not understand what this means. He shuffles through the film in a dreamlike fugue state, perhaps brought on by his infected wound, slowly being fed pieces to a larger puzzle that is being laid out in front of him as he stumbles further through the dark labyrinth that is the film’s plot.
In fact Jay and Gal’s job is the ritual of reconstruction itself. By killing those on the list, Jay is proving himself to be the righteous heir that will lead the cult into a new era. In their final moments his victims recognise and thank him for his blessing of death, appearing almost starstruck in a celebrity’s presence. It becomes evident that Jay has been specifically chosen and Gal’s new girlfriend, who he declares is freaky in the sack, has been tasked with the job of seducing Gal in order to get closer to Jay so as to monitor him. Perhaps it is also her that leaves the sacrifice of a dead rabbit in Jay’s garden that he happily accepts, unbeknownst to its implications. A sacrifice that seems to mirror the death of Gal who is gutted by the cult and finished off mercifully by Jay. The film’s horrifying conclusion also appears to mirror a certain rubber sword fight earlier in the film.
It is twisted ironies like this that pervade this film and The Wicker Man. Both films play out like a ritualistic games. Sergeant Howie plays the fool, culminating with him in fact wearing the fool costume at the end of the film. However, the islanders don’t appear to treat him as one. They rely heavily on him to work our Rowan’s fate in order to seal his own. By working towards the goal he has set himself at the start of the film, he slowly moves inexorably and unknowingly towards sealing his own fate.
It is the powerful conclusions of the films that cement their sense of dark irony. Shel’s dying laughter can be interpreted as her succumbing to the almost comical irony that she and her son have been stabbed to death by Jay, who was just trying to protect them from the very cult he has now become part of. It is this acceptance of one’s fate when faced with a much stronger force that has been pulling the strings all along. It is a laughter of admitting defeat, of seeing their helplessness as small cogs playing a part in the cult’s much larger game. Similarly, upon being faced with his sacrifice, Howie reveals the biggest irony of the film, declaring that their devout beliefs and his death will not imbue the islanders with prosperous crops. They are simply not meant to be grown on such a barren island and no higher power can change that. Like Shel, his death is ironic and goes to symbolise the powers of religions and cults and the dangers of blindly following tradition. No longer are the islanders shamanic due to reasons of expediency, but due to customs set out long before they were even born that they still gladly follow.
As our audience surrogates, Jay and Sergeant Howie see exactly what we see. It is not until the climaxes of both films are we able to piece together what has actually been transpiring all along. Perhaps what leaves these films so heavy in the memory is the sucker punches that they throw at the audience in their dying moments. Both film’s mysteries must be preserved in order to maintain their power. This in turn works as a meta commentary on the power of cults that arises from their secrecy and their ability to pervade all corners of society, or perhaps of a certain person’s life, whilst at the same time remaining hidden for as long as they need to do so. Therefore, both films work as microcosmic metaphors depicting the horror of cults. It is because hidden cults are exactly that — hidden — that enhances the horror of these films. It is this unknown fear — a heart of darkness that slowly oozes its evil across these cinematic masterpieces.
