Christopher Lee considered it one of his all time favorite roles.
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He’s great in it, almost friendly and obviously loves his Summerisle companions.
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The title of the movie, and the poster showing the final scene (not to mention everything that happens in the film), give a strong hint where it’s headed from the start. So when it gets there, you realise that the whole time you were siding with the carefree islanders against the joyless bible cop, you were kind of rooting for this all along.
You could say the whole point of the movie is to show the attraction of a mob mentality, where everyone accepts that life and death are up to the gods, and it makes them truly free from authority. Howie tells Summerisle that he’ll be next if the crops fail again, and Summerisle doesn’t even bother responding to that because, like, obviously; but everyone’s having fun in the meantime.
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Related:
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For his sake, I hope so. He kept his faith to the end, at least.
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I’ve always felt that the film’s attitude is rather agnostic, displaying no especial truth in Christianity or paganism.
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It shows merits of both, and some obvious problems, and I agree that the film doesn’t force you to side with one or the other.
I would say the Christian policeman seems more deliberately ignorant of anything outside his faith, whereas the pagans seem more open to community and thinking of each other as a whole, that contrasts with the policeman’s blinkered adherence to arbitrary rules.
Having watched it numerous times with lots of people, the consensus seems to be “he deserved it; good of the village and all that.”
Which is an odd way to justify a murder/sacrifice…
I wonder if that reaction is coloured by him being a policeman, his religion, or both. Would we empathise with the village less if he were an everyman without faith? I doubt it.
The pagans get a symbolic victory over the controlling social power; for once white, male Christians lose, and the more flexible, welcoming society flourishes.
Looked at that way, it’s quite subversive.
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I perhaps didn’t phrase as well as I might have. I just meant no faith in any underlying truth of the two religions is shown. Edward Woodward’s (In the words of Noel Coward, Edward Woodward … Edward Woodward… sounds like a fart in the bath.) death seems unlikely to improve next year’s crop or secure him an especially good berth in the hereafter.
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Isn’t there a photo at the end of an improved crop next year?
That could all be a coincidence - so I’m with you on the No Proof of Truth either way.
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I’m fairly certain I didn’t see that final shot, but then again, director Robin Hardy released a “final” edit in 2013 which I haven’t seen so, maybe it’s there now.
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In Hardy & Shaffer’s novelisation, the crowd at the end is explicitly compared to a Nuremburg rally.
It would be interesting to know how much viewers did side with the islanders at the time the film was first released- Britain was a much more Christian country then, and paganism/witchcraft etc was extremely fringe.
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I’ve found a copy to watch tonight, I’ll let you know if I just misremembered the whole thing 
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English?
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I stand corrected. Scottish
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Speaking of the music, at this very moment as I write, WFMU is a playing a track from the soundtrack! Weird synchronicity!
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Of course I am! It’s a fine old tradition against those who trespass against the Celts. It’s well past time to bring it back!
The Legion with its Eagles bright
Marched into the Pictish night
Met them there upon the sand
Gave 'em up to the Wicker Man!
– from Celtic Circle Dance, by Joe Bethancourt III
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The Wicker Man is also a great introduction to Walt Whitman:
I think I could turn and live with animals,
they are so placid and self-contain’d,
I stand and look at them long and long.
They do not sweat and whine about their condition,
They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins,
They do not make me sick discussing their duty to God,
Not one is dissatisfied, not one is demented with the mania of owning things,
Not one kneels to another, nor to his kind that lived thousands of years ago,
Not one is respectable or unhappy over the whole earth.
So they show their relations to me and I accept them,
They bring me tokens of myself, they evince them plainly in their possession.
I wonder where they get those tokens,
Did I pass that way huge times ago and negligently drop them?
Myself moving forward then and now and forever,
Gathering and showing more always and with velocity,
Infinite and omnigenous, and the like of these among them,
Not too exclusive toward the reachers of my remembrancers,
Picking out here one that I love, and now go with him on brotherly terms.
A gigantic beauty of a stallion, fresh and responsive to my caresses,
Head high in the forehead, wide between the ears,
Limbs glossy and supple, tail dusting the ground,
Eyes full of sparkling wickedness, ears finely cut, flexibly moving.
His nostrils dilate as my heels embrace him,
His well-built limbs tremble with pleasure as we race around and return.
I but use you a minute, then I resign you, stallion,
Why do I need your paces when I myself out-gallop them?
Even as I stand or sit passing faster than you.
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One of my all time favorites. My last band had a song about it on the album, and I had the honor of chatting with Robin Hardy a bit when it came out.
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One of my favorite Nicolas Cage films
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