Reel Review: The Severed Sun

Gorgeous and deeply unnerving, the religious folk horror “The Severed Sun” is a witchy and rebellious scream that deserves to be heard.

“In the beginning, there was only the moon,
But she was lonely.
Her desire for a lover became the dawn.
The sun, the God of light.
And in the shadows, lift that other thing.
Forgotten.
Away from the light.
Their bastard child wakes from its slumber.”

—

Across breathtaking shots of the countryside, we hear Magpie’s soft but sinister voice introducing us to The Severed Sun with mystical and elegant narration.

This richly photographed folk horror film, director Dean Puckett’s first, focuses on a tiny, religion-driven village in Cornwall. We begin with our protagonist, Magpie (The Witcher’s Emma Appleton), knitting in the corner of her dining room as her husband, Howard (Eoin Slattery), and his two children, David (Lewis Gribben) and Sam (Zachary Tanner), eat breakfast.

Magpie tends to her work and says nothing. In fact, nobody says anything. The tension in the room is dreadful, and it’s obvious everyone is terrified of Howard. There is a palpable sense of austere misery.

As our narrator continues, she reveals she has poisoned Howard’s tea. Later, as they walk in the woods, Howard quietly doubles over in pain and crumbles to the ground. Magpie drags him to a chopping block, drinks a mouthful of liquid, then pours the rest on Howard’s left hand, which she efficiently cuts off.

It seems an awful lot like a ritual of some kind, and our suspicions are confirmed when these actions bring to her fleeting glances of a spindly vine and root-covered beast.

Immediately after Howard crashes into what’s coming to him, Magpie does as little as possible to sell his unfortunate “accident”. She behaves as if a heavy, mortal-sized waste has been lifted from her soul.

The village is lorded over by a cast-iron, Old Testament bastard known as The Pastor.

Because he is the preacher, he has complete passive-oppressive control over everyone. To make matters saltier, the sharp-tongued and forward-thinking Magpie is his daughter. In a chilling scene, she warns him that his reign over the village is nearing an end.

Mag’s blatant disregard for oppressive authority, fake piety, and religious doctrine designed to keep her in place puts her at odds with her father and the town busybody, Andrea. Self-appointed proprietor of womanly duty and obedience at all costs, Andrea is the most horrifically miserable person in a film where there are only two decent people.

Yes, Andrea is that bad. The exceptional Jodhi May plays her with a delicious degree of despicableness, making it fun to wish for horrible things to befall her.

As Mag gets righteously loose with the tongue, spiderwebbed moral cracks start to show in the village, and the ill-effects of a strict religious patriarchy come to rip guilt-ridden faces off.

When that happens, it’s every bit as satisfying as hoped for.

When I review films, I prefer to leave out many important details and hold back entire subplots. I offer you a simple welcome mat and maybe a whiff of what’s cooking in the kitchen. I want you to experience it as freshly as possible. This is a film that deserves unsullied viewing and a soul willing to be taken over.

Those who can relate to this film’s themes will have much to bite into and meditate on, as will lovers of atmospheric folk horror. I am impressed by how much this movie affected me.

Go out of your way to see this beguiling tale of witchy vengeance.