Children of the Wicker Man (Grimmfest 2024)

The Wicker Man (1973) needs no introduction. To many, myself included, Robin Hardy’s folk-horror classic is considered one of the greatest British horror films – heck, perhaps horror films in general – of all time. However, to two of the director’s sons, Justin and Dominic Hardy, The Wicker Man is the thing which tore their family apart; its troubled production and initial status as a box-office bomb led to their father walking out on them and leaving their struggling mother, Caroline (who had put the majority of her own personal funds into getting The Wicker Man made), in financial ruin.

There’s a lot of discourse in online spaces these days about how the quality of a piece of media reflects its creators’ quality of character – after all, surely if a piece of media is good, it has to have been made by a “good” person, right? Unfortunately, as we’ve seen far too many times over the past few years, that simply isn’t true. It’s practically impossible for me to count the number of people who have been responsible for creative works which I love so dearly, and have helped shape me as a person, who have since been revealed to be abusive, predatory, bigoted, or otherwise simply unpleasant towards those around them; it’s not even a matter of “separating the art from the artist”, it’s a matter of reconciling with the fact that sometimes people who do and say horrible things are capable of making art that speaks to you.

Robin Hardy passed away in 2016, and Children of the Wicker Man (2024), a documentary created by two of his many estranged offspring, is as much a film about processing the loss of their complicated, difficult, largely absent father figure as it is about the creative processes behind the crafting of a beloved cult horror classic. The sad truth is, people are rarely clear-cut “good” or “bad” – something which is demonstrated throughout the plot of The Wicker Man itself – and grief is a process which means dealing with all aspects of someone you’ve lost, the good and the bad, and everything in-between. Mourning a person who caused you hurt and pain in life might seem like the opposite to discovering that a creative figure you admire has mistreated those around them, yet the two experiences are closer in nature than one might at first suspect.

Children of the Wicker Man is by no means the first behind-the-scenes documentary about the production and legacy of Hardy’s classic (that honour goes to 2001’s Burnt Offering: The Cult of the Wicker Man), but it does feel as though it brings something new to the table – not least because of its personal angle. What it does provide as a tell-all doc on the struggles and creative fall-outs that occurred throughout The Wicker Man’s construction is fascinating, and it’s a breath of fresh air to see a film like this which doesn’t pull its punches when criticising the actions and behaviour of the people who created a firm title in the cinematic canon. There’s a good variety of talking heads on display here too – not only does it feature the valuable contribution of several documentary regulars who add great critical insight, such as writer David McGillivray and the BFI Flipside’s Vic Pratt and William Fowler, but it also contains interviews with numerous cast and crew members directly involved in building The Wicker Man, all of whom add their own perspectives on the joys and difficulties of working with Robin Hardy, writer Anthony Shaffer, and the famously reluctant studio British Lion.

The best parts of Children of the Wicker Man, though, are when the film focuses on its own creators, Justin and Dominic. It’s these moments of borderline meta-narrative that make up the emotional core of the film, where the metaphorical curtain is pulled back and we get to see the inner workings of the documentary itself; some may complain about the raw technical quality of some of Children of the Wicker Man’s documentary footage, but I feel as though it compliments the movie’s honest, bare-all approach.
Not only is all of this deeply moving, as we watch the two brothers grow closer together through making the film and processing their shared familial trauma and grief, but it also benefits its folksy, occult subject matter. Children of the Wicker Man is, at its most basic level, a film about ritual – both in a traditional sense and otherwise; pagan and new age rites are depicted throughout, of course, but Children of the Wicker Man serves to remind us that dealing with loss and the process of creating a film can also be rituals in their own right.

Children of the Wicker Man is not always easy viewing, and if you’re a die-hard fan of The Wicker Man, this documentary may shine a whole new light on aspects of the classic film that may change your understanding and perspective on it forever – which is to say, I thoroughly recommend it. An exposé, loving tribute, and exorcism of family ghosts all in one, you might well come out of this and gain a greater appreciation for one of the best British horror films of all time.

Robyn’s Archive – Children of the Wicker Man (2024)