MAY #9: Season of the Witch

            

            

            Is this the most underrated film of all time??

            Seriously, why isn’t this taught in film studies and feminist theory courses in every university ever? Why don’t we watch this movie every Halloween, and then again on Ash Wednesday? Why aren’t there memes of this? Why haven’t I seen this before? Does no one love this movie as much as me?

            I expected this movie to be homework, a little bit of a slog, notable mainly because Romero directed. I had the sense that it would be slow, talky, and pretty sedate. And it definitely falls on the artsy, thinky end of horror. If you’re looking for wacky occult spectacle, this won’t do it for you. It’s talky, sure, but it never feels boring, and it certainly never feels normal. No, this movie walks the line between realist drama and surrealist nightmare, and that line is my happy place.

            From the opening scene, all gritty ‘70s shot-on-film color scheme and cheap location shots, I was transfixed. In a dream, housewife Joanie follows her husband through a forest path. In his brown suit, he’s camouflaged against the dead trees. Joanie’s an ominous vision in purple. As her husband walks, reading the paper and eating a raw egg, taking no notice of her, he brushes aside branches that swing back to scratch Joanie’s face. More bizarre dream sequences dominate the first act of the film, and perfectly convey how trapped Joanie feels in her suburban life and dull marriage.

            Joanie is having a mid-life crisis. She’s a sexually repressed Catholic, her husband is a jerk who’s never even around, her hip teenage daughter doesn’t need her, she has nothing to occupy her time except for terrible parties with her drunken friends, who love to play Mad-Libs and have never smoked pot. Her therapist thinks she needs something to give her back her zest for life. Joanie chooses witchcraft. She chooses wisely.

The movie takes its time building up to its nutso climax, which makes the moment it goes off the rails all the more shocking. The first half of the movie is darkly funny; Joanie’s friends are squares who desperately want to become hip and when they collide with the youthful world of Joanie’s daughter, cringey absurdity follows. I wasn’t impatient for the supernatural angle to kick in, but I loved it when it did. The witchcraft is understated; it’s never clear if Joanie’s spells are working or if her newfound confidence is just getting her what she wants. A lot of times I’m frustrated by ambiguity in horror films, but it worked for me here. I was more interested in Joanie than any demon she could possibly have summoned, and I’m glad the focus stays tight on her. I’m head over heels for Jan White’s performance. Her Joanie is understated, and White’s quiet expressions convey all she’s holding back. Every time the camera fixed itself on her face, I was captivated.  

           Just look at her

           Like Don’t Look Now, which I watched for ’70s day back at the beginning of the month, the disorienting and jagged editing gives the whole film a dreamlike feel. It’s hard for the audience and increasingly for Joanie to tell dreams from reality. As the film progresses, Joanie’s dreams turn violent, and her days are taken up with bizarre witchcraft rituals. I’ve seen some philistines calling this movie cheap like that’s a bad thing, but honestly I disagree. This movie is a visual fucking delight, the bizarre contrast between atrocious ‘70s paisley color schemes and cheap drabness heightening the surrealness of the suburban setting, while Joanie’s delicious witchcraft ephemera makes me want to be a witch too.

            It may not be a quintessential horror film; instead, it carves out its own genre, an occult psychodrama, where the normal feels just as weird as Joanie’s witchy ways. I’m astounded that this film was made by George Romero, one of the quintessential horror directors, and I’m equally astounded that it doesn’t get more love. Season of the Witch is a masterpiece, grubby and thoughtful and insistently strange, one of the best suburban ennui movies I’ve ever seen.

It's Good to be a Witch

Vibecheck: Dreams in a ‘70s paisley mumu

Scare Factor: I was ready to certify this Safe For Wimps but Joanie’s nightmares get pretty jarring, and domestic and sexual violence are, while not the focus of the film, definitely present. It’s not your usual horror movie scariness, but be warned.

Pairs Well With: Valerie and her Week of Wonders is one of my all-time favorite movies, a fantasy hidden gem from the Czech Republic, that employs a similarly disorienting and dream-like editing style. As the story of a young girl’s sexual awakening, it would make a pretty solid double feature with this story of an older woman’s sexual-reawakening. Hausu has more of a horror angle, but it’s similarly bizarre, and also deals with generational conflict and aging from a distinctly Japanese perspective. And you could even see this as a horror version of The Graduate, where Dustin Hoffman is an asshole and Mrs. Robinson is sympathetic, and also a witch.

But how gay is it?: Joanie is caught in a heterosexual nightmare, stuck between a shitty husband and an equally shitty boy toy. Poor Joanie. Fortunately, there’s a coven of middle-aged suburban lady witches just waiting to induct her into their coven, and their induction ceremony is pretty kinky!

Girlfriend’s Corner: Okay, I did watch part of this one! It was the bit where the woman is buying things for witchcraft at a witch store, and then she is painting witch symbols on them, and “Season of the Witch” is playing in the background. It was done with verve, style, and humor, and I wish I’d watched more!

Also, this is a very #cancelable take and I’m glad I’m offering it from behind the pseudonym of “Girlfriend,” but every woman in this movie appears to be visibly trans. I can only assume that this is because of the way George Romero photographs women, which somehow manages to highlight facial features that would seem to result from a testosterone-dominated puberty even in cis women. Although I have not been misgendered in months, I am fairly certain that I would get clocked immediately if George Romero took a photograph of me, which is a frightening prospect! As George Romero is dead, however, I do not feel that this is an imminent danger. Three stars.