Witchcraft has always been synonymous with female sexuality. The dual nature of the imagery was highlighted perfectly in Disney’s ‘Snow White’ when the beautiful Queen, enraged by her step daughters beauty, transforms into an elderly, withered crone. Media is littered with similar depictions of scorned women. Ugly, undesirable, and notably – always female.
The terror surrounding witchcraft has its roots in an overarching fear of womanhood as traditionally patriarchal societies sought to repress female expression and desire. An incendiary combination when mixed with zealous religiosity, acting as the perfect kindling to spark the widespread panic which ultimately led to the infamous witch trials across Europe and America.
Whilst it’s true that those accused of witchcraft were not exclusively women, the vast majority were (with figures suggesting over 80%). It’s a fascinating subject that, through the lens of the modern world, is a stark illustration of the steps taken to repress women’s autonomy.
This theme is explored at depth within Robert Eggers’ ‘The Witch’ from 2015 (often stylised as the VVitch as the letter W was not commonly used at the time the feature is set).
The period feature set in New England in the late 1600s follows a family who have been banished from their colony, and settle in a secluded spot overlooking the forest. Parents William (Ralph Ineson) and Kate (Kate Dickie) make their living from the land with the help of their children – Thomasin (Anya Taylor-Joy) and Caleb (Harvey Scrimshaw), who also help to care for the baby Samuel.
One day, whilst in the care of Thomasin, baby Samuel disappears. Though the family do not know his fate, the viewer witnesses the child’s demise at the hands of a hideous, pallid witch, who grinds his bones and uses his blood for her craft. It’s a recurring theme in tales of witchcraft – seeking innocents to use for their own nefarious means – and one which hints at the true fear that lurks within. Whilst women are seen to be maternal figures, naturally caring and nurturing – the stylised witch is the polar opposite. Arguably the terms become interchangeable, with women displaying a lack of maternal instinct characterised as something to be feared and shunned. Women of the world have come a long way, and yet even in 2021, powerful woman who don’t undertake subservient roles in society still face similar treatment. Regardless of your political leanings, a quick google of Hilary Clinton and Pizzagate will show that even in our modern world theories of infant sacrifice remain.
Though on the face of it, The Witch seems to tell a familiar story of witchcraft lifted straight from a fairytale – there are moments of ambiguity that make the viewer look closer at what they are actually seeing. As Thomas is woken from a nightmare, panting and shivering – in the context of her developing womanhood and the tone of sexual repression – it’s plausible that the nightmare was something entirely more pleasurable.
This theme develops further with her mother Katherine’s obvious contempt for her daughter, whom she blames for Samuels disappearance (despite it being her husbands words that ultimately led to their banishing). Furtive glances from both mother and brother draw attention to Thomasin’s changing frame – and this fear of womanhood may have more of an impact in Katherine’s feelings than she cares to admit. Like the step-mother in Snow White, Katherine is clouded by jealousy at Thomasin’s vitality and youth, something which is underlined by a harrowing scene of the mother failing to provide nutrients to her dead baby.
The link between evil and femininity is prevalent throughout the feature. When Thomasin’s brother encounters an alluring, busty woman in the woods he is bewitched by her beauty, attributing his sudden sickness to her by stating ‘Her nether parts – she sends them upon me’.
Shunned by her suspicious family, the viewer can hardly blame the appeal of the coven of women who freely dance naked deep in the woods. Finally embracing her freedom and femininity, Thomasin rises above them all. It’s a powerful scene that feels somewhat similar to the conclusion of Midsommer in its tone.
Where ‘The Witch’ begins with an ambiguous threat, it appears witchcraft lurks within all women. The irony is that it is society that made Thomasin that way.
