Half a century after its release, The Wicker Man (1973) remains one of British cinema’s most enduring and influential horror films. Released during a period often described as the decline of traditional British horror—an era that saw Gothic studio productions give way to grittier, more visceral fare—The Wicker Man stands apart. Its lead, Christopher Lee, had already become synonymous with the Hammer horrors that built his career, yet this film marked a departure from those conventions and helped define a different strain of fright: folk horror.
What keeps The Wicker Man compelling today is its originality. Rather than relying on jump scares or graphic shocks, the film draws dread from folklore, communal rituals and the uneasy relationships between faith, nature and tradition. Its influence is unmistakable: it has inspired direct imitations and homages across decades and remains a reference point for filmmakers exploring ritualistic, pastoral horror.
At its core, the film follows Sergeant Neil Howie (Edward Woodward), a devout Christian police officer, who travels to the remote island of Summerisle to investigate the reported disappearance of a young girl, Rowan Morrison. The island’s inhabitants embrace a permissive, pagan lifestyle that steadily undermines Howie’s certainty and moral authority. Rather than offering shock value, the film builds a sustained atmosphere of unease through character, ritual and music—an artistic approach that keeps its themes poignant and relevant.
This article highlights ten moments from Robin Hardy’s masterpiece that showcase why The Wicker Man remains both a pinnacle of folk horror and a standout in British film history.
10. The Landlord’s Daughter
When Howie arrives at The Green Man pub, he expects a routine inquiry; instead he finds himself lodged in an island culture that greets him with brazen songs celebrating sexual freedom. The first full glimpse of this appears when the patrons burst into a bawdy folk song praising Willow, the landlord’s daughter. The scene succinctly establishes the gulf between Howie’s rigid morality and Summerisle’s liberated customs. That contrast—expressed through music that feels both ancient and immediate—signals the film’s distinctive fusion of narrative and folklore.
9. Crying by the Gravestone
Stepping outside to clear his head, Howie discovers the village green filled with couples engaged in public lovemaking under moonlight. The slow-motion reveal, combined with distorted sound, transforms what might be merely scandalous into something almost ritualistic and uncanny. A single image—of a naked woman weeping against a gravestone—captures the film’s fusion of eroticism, grief and the Gothic. The scene’s unsettling beauty deepens the film’s exploration of how desire, mortality and ceremony intertwine.
8. The Abandoned Church
Howie’s search leads him to a ruined church whose interior has been repurposed for pagan rites. Christian iconography is gone; in its place are unsettling symbols of rebirth and fertility—saplings on graves, a woman nursing while holding an egg, and decaying apples atop what was once the altar. The scene reframes familiar religious imagery through a pagan lens, revealing a community that has reclaimed sacred space to celebrate cyclical, earth-centered beliefs. Howie’s horror and anger at this transformation underline how deeply his faith defines him.
7. Chop Chop
Disguised as Punch, Howie infiltrates the May Day march, which culminates at the stone circle. A seemingly innocent folk parade curdles into menace when six swordsmen form a pentagram with their blades to play a deadly game of “Chop.” The nursery-rhyme melody juxtaposed with a real risk of mutilation ratchets the tension to a new level. The scene’s POV shots and austere choreography thrust viewers into the participants’ terror and reveal how ritual can normalize violence.
6. The Maypole Song
The maypole scene is striking for how it turns an archetypal spring dance into something disquieting. Children and young people dance while singing verses that explicitly describe human reproduction. The teacher’s offhand confirmation that the maypole symbolizes the phallus in their religion makes the ritual’s meaning painfully explicit. The scene braids pagan origin with an unsettling sexual education for children, forcing viewers to confront cultural anxieties about innocence, instruction and ritualized sexuality.
5. The Beetle in the Desk
Howie’s visit to Miss Rose’s classroom exposes another disturbing practice: a beetle tied to a nail in an otherwise empty desk, used as part of a lesson or song. The casual cruelty, accepted by adults and children alike, signals a community with a casual relationship to suffering and death. Finding Rowan’s name in the register and encountering calculated evasions pushes Howie from suspicion to righteous fury—an escalation that shapes his tragic arc.
4. God Is Dead
When Howie confronts Lord Summerisle about the island’s abandonment of Christianity, he is met with a chillingly casual response: that “God is dead.” Lord Summerisle recounts how his grandfather’s agricultural experiments transformed the island’s fortunes; prosperity bred a return to older rites and the marginalization of Christian belief. The explanation blends pragmatic ambition with moral ambiguity—raising the question whether the revival of paganism is sincere faith or a social structure crafted to protect a ruling class’s interests.
3. Howie’s Temptation
Howie’s moral steadfastness is tested in a scene that echoes Christ’s trials. Separated from him by only a thin wall, the alluring Willow sings suggestive songs and tests his resolve. Howie’s struggle is palpable—his restraint is an internal battle between desire and devotion. The scene crystallizes the film’s moral ambiguity: submission might have altered his fate, while resistance becomes the path to martyrdom.
2. The Sacrificial Victim
The film’s revelation—that Rowan is not the intended sacrifice but a willing instrument in Howie’s downfall—remains devastating. Howie’s unwavering faith, combined with his role as a lawman and his chastity, renders him the ideal candidate for ritual immolation. The betrayal cuts deepest because Howie believed he was rescuing an innocent; instead he becomes a pawn in a communal rite that elevates martyrdom as spiritual triumph.
1. The Appointment With the Wicker Man
The film’s final sequence—the slow, inexorable immolation of Howie—poses stark moral questions. Which is more monstrous: killings committed in conscious malice, or acts done under the conviction of righteous necessity? Howie’s death is especially harrowing because it combines physical terror with communal complicity: a large, singing crowd surrounds the wicker pyre as flames engulf him while he clings to his final prayers. The scene’s emotional weight and moral complexity secure its place as one of horror cinema’s most tragic endings.
Though society has evolved in terms of religious belief and cultural norms, The Wicker Man continues to offer a thought-provoking examination of faith, community and the tensions between individual rights and collective tradition. Its songs, rituals and moral dilemmas retain a painful relevance, making Robin Hardy’s film as unsettling and resonant today as it was fifty years ago.
Which scenes from this classic folk horror film strike you as most effective? Does The Wicker Man still unsettle you? Share your thoughts below.