Once upon a time, in a small village nestled deep within a dense forest, there lived a fine witch named Elara. She was known throughout the land for her kind heart and magical abilities. People would seek her out for help, whether it was to heal an ailment, find a lost object, or even mend a broken heart. Elara's magic was a gift she used to bring joy and comfort to those in need. However, in the same forest, an insidious darkness lurked. It had no name or form, but its presence was felt by all.
If she was thirsty, a pitcher of water would reveal itself almost immediately, and she would have the best drink of water in her life, beating even the taste of the potions her parents promised to give her.
First, we should look to the windigo, also written as wendigo or weendigo, a supernatural being in the spiritual traditions of Algonquian-speaking First Nations in North America. Plus there is verisimilitude in the costuming, and spare, confining set design; the relatively trim 93-minute film uses dialogue from period sources and appears to use mostly natural lighting from its Northern Ontario locale to set the gloomy mood.
It had no name or form, but its presence was felt by all. The darkness thrived on negativity, fear, and despair. It whispered poisonous thoughts into the minds of the villagers, slowly sapping away their hope and filling their hearts with darkness.
Starving Puritans, fear and demonic-looking goat haunt The Witch
We may not be much more evolved than the Puritans were, some 400 years ago. The fact that the witch is so prevalent an archetype — and sure box office draw — speaks to a deep-seeded cultural fear of female autonomy and sexuality, then and now.
Robert Eggers’ moody debut, The Witch, follows a family of seven after they are cast out of their rigid new-world colony and things quickly unravel.
We may not be much more evolved than the Puritans were, some 400 years ago. The fact that the witch is so prevalent an archetype — and sure box office draw — speaks to a deep-seeded cultural fear of female autonomy and sexuality, then and now.
Robert Eggers acknowledges this in his moody, monstrous debut feature, The Witch, which is a prequel, of sorts, for the Salem witch trials held in the 1690s. A family of seven is cast out of its rigid new-world colony after a religious dispute. Banished are the scraggly haired patriarch (Ralph Ineson), mother Katherine (Kate Dickie), eldest daughter Thomasin (Anya Taylor-Joy), the barely younger Caleb (Harvey Scrimshaw), unbiddable twins Mercy and Lucas (Ellie Grainger and Lucas Dawson) and infant Samuel.
“We will conquer this wilderness, it will not consume us,” says father, in an effort to reassure himself as much as console his family.
It is during a game of peek-a-boo that baby Samuel disappears, leaving no trace in the wide field or dark woods beyond. Thomasin, already indoctrinated and certain of her own damnation, oscillates between worry that it could be her fault and surety of her innocence. But the family suspects dark forces at work, which the film, in gruesome flashes, confirms.
“We must turn our thoughts toward God, not ourselves,” instructs father, pointing out that they’ve been blessed in not losing any of their children thus far (a nod to the infant mortality rate of the time). But mother is inconsolable: her steady diet of constant prayer is increased even more, amid worries that the infant was damned. She wishes they had never left England.
Vexed that the twins won’t do anything they’re told, Thomasin tells them that she’s a witch and will gobble them up in the night if they don’t behave, a mistruth that comes back to haunt her. Caleb may think his older sister is bewitching him, too, for he can’t stop sneaking peeks at her growing bustline.
Things go starkly downhill from there. Clearly father is neither a farmer nor an outdoorsman: he fails to shoot a rabbit (which reappears at several inopportune times at the homestead) and the meagre crops are failing. He spends any time not at prayer cutting wood with precision and no small amount of foreboding.
The twins whisper and seem to take direction from the family’s goat, Black Phillip. The devil frequently takes the form of a goat; it’s the current mascot for the Satanic Church. After a trip to the woods, someone returns possessed. Mother is going off the deep end and resentful of her nubile daughter. “I have raised up no witch in this house!” shouts the father, again more to reassure himself than anyone. Clearly there is more than one witch candidate in this family.
The banishment and the severe isolation would be fodder enough for a horror film (it’s like The Shining set a few centuries earlier). Add to that certain starvation, the infant mortality rate of the time, fear of animals and attack by native tribes, Thomasin’s sure and assumed-sinful transition into womanhood and religious zealotry: is it any wonder the family spirals out of control?
The casting call for animals to appear in the film must’ve been a fun affair: Eggers has found the most demonic-looking goat and hare imaginable.
Plus there is verisimilitude in the costuming, and spare, confining set design; the relatively trim 93-minute film uses dialogue “from period sources” and appears to use mostly natural lighting from its Northern Ontario locale to set the gloomy mood.
Characters in the film pray for mercy and for grace, but neither is afforded to the audience, treated to a steady, mostly atmospheric fear which is then punctuated by shocking brutality.
Eggers has crafted a clever horror film about malleable souls in a starved landscape, where a taste of butter could be enticement enough to go over to the dark side.
The Witch opens Thursday at Scotiabank.
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As you can see, the Brothers Grimm had no shortage of inspiration by the time they started writing fairy tales in the early 1800s. They may have also pulled from Italian fairy tale ingenue Giambattista Basile , who published a little ditty entitled “Nennillo And Nennella” about two children abandoned in the woods. Finally, there’s the uncredited Romanian folk tale of “the little boy and the wicked stepmother,” which concludes with a wicked stepmother killing a little boy and forcing his sister to prepare the corpse for a family meal.
For years, Elara had been fighting the darkness on her own. She cast protective spells around the village, used her magic to banish the shadows that threatened to engulf the people, and even tried to reason with the darkness, but nothing seemed to work. The darkness only grew stronger, more relentless. As time went on, the darkness began to affect Elara herself. Her magic weakened, and she could feel it slipping away. Her heart, once filled with light and love, grew heavy with the weight of the darkness around her. She became weaker and weaker, until she could no longer muster the strength to fight. In her despair, Elara reached out to the villagers for help. She organized a gathering in the village square, where she told them of her plight and the danger the darkness posed to their lives. But to her surprise, the villagers hesitated. They had grown accustomed to the darkness, and its grip had become so tight that they could no longer see the light. In that moment, Elara realized that she couldn't rely on her magic to save the village. She needed the help of the villagers, their strength, and their belief in her. So, she urged them to find the courage within themselves to stand up against the darkness. She reminded them of the power of love, hope, and unity. Gradually, the villagers began to listen. They saw the dwindling light in Elara's eyes and felt the heaviness that burdened her heart. They realized that their own lives had become dull and empty, consumed by the darkness. And so, with a renewed sense of purpose, they joined Elara in her fight. Together, they formed a circle around Elara, joining hands and closing their eyes. They chanted words of love, hope, and strength, raising their voices above the whispers of the darkness. As they chanted, their hearts filled with light, pushing back the shadows and embracing the warmth of Elara's magic. In that moment, the darkness recoiled in pain. It realized it could not thrive in a world filled with love and hope. With each chant, the darkness weakened until it eventually dissipated entirely, leaving behind only the light of Elara's magic. From that day forward, the village thrived under the protection of Elara's magic and the strength of their unity. They never forgot the power of love and hope, and they honored Elara for her sacrifice and bravery. The fine witch and the starving darkness became the legends whispered through generations, reminding the villagers of the strength they hold within themselves to conquer any darkness that threatens their light..
Reviews for "The Fine Witch's Ultimate Sacrifice to Defeat the Starving Darkness"
1. John - 1 star
I found "The Fine Witch and the Starving Darkness" to be incredibly boring and confusing. The plot was all over the place and the characters lacked depth. The writing style felt disjointed and it was difficult to follow along with the story. I struggled to finish the book and was left feeling disappointed and unsatisfied. I wouldn't recommend this book to anyone looking for a captivating and well-written fantasy novel.
2. Emily - 2 stars
I had high hopes for "The Fine Witch and the Starving Darkness" based on the synopsis, but unfortunately, it fell flat for me. The world-building was unclear and I struggled to connect with the characters. The pacing was slow, and I found myself losing interest multiple times throughout the book. The author seemed to prioritize descriptive language over plot development, resulting in a disjointed and meandering story. Overall, I was disappointed with this novel and wouldn't recommend it to others.
3. Sarah - 2 stars
I couldn't get into "The Fine Witch and the Starving Darkness" at all. The writing style was overly flowery, which made it hard for me to stay engaged in the plot. I found myself skimming through pages of unnecessary descriptions just to get to the actual story. Additionally, the characters felt one-dimensional and lacked any real depth. It was a struggle to finish this book, and I was left disappointed with the overall experience. I wouldn't recommend it to anyone looking for a fast-paced and gripping fantasy read.
4. Michael - 1 star
"The Fine Witch and the Starving Darkness" was a complete letdown for me. The story lacked coherence, and the author's attempt at creating a mystical and magical world fell short. The characters felt underdeveloped and I couldn't find myself caring about their journeys. The plot was confusing and disjointed, leaving me frustrated and disinterested. Overall, I was highly disappointed with this book and would not recommend it to others.