Constrained by a low budget, John Moxey and production designer John Blezard created a cluster of battered clapboard buildings, pumped billows of synthetic fog, and lured the audience to Whitewood, Massachusetts, a hamlet accessible only by a tortuous wood lined road. In the 17th century the denizens of Whitewood burned the witch Elizabeth Selwyn. (No, witches were not burned in New England, they were hanged. But a writhing woman bound above a stack of lumber is far more cinematic.)
The burning scene is a dynamic set piece. Selwyn, her hair hanging in disheveled wavy locks, is centered in the middle ground while a blazing torch dominates the left foreground. Cut to a series of closeups-upturned faces (all decidedly unpleasant) animated with contempt and fear. Then, upward from the perspective of the mob, a portrait of the witch framed by tendrils of flame. The aquiline features of Patricia Jessel flash with rage as the flames close inward. Shouting her allegiance to Lucifer as rain drenches her hair, her expression changes to one of joyous defiance.
When Moxey returns the viewers to the 20th century, the face of Professor Driscoll (Christopher Lee) fills the screen. He repeats the cries of the Puritans, "burn, witch, burn, witch, burn, witch, burn" before a circle of students gathered for a seminar in his living room. Driscoll's impassioned lecture inspires one of his students to begin research on the site of the execution.
Nan Barlow (Venetia Stevenson) steps shin-deep into swirling white vapor and gazes around Whitewood. Great clouds of white hang between the buildings, masking gaps in the set. The fog serves Moxey in another way: it presents the suggestion that the witches who now control the town have produced the shrouds of clouds to hide Whitewood from the outside world.
Ms Barlow enters the lobby of the Raven's Inn, a dimly lit space where the silence is brocken only by voices and the heavy ticking of a clock. Within the gloom, Stevenson's platinum blonde hair is luminous while she addresses her hostess, Mrs Newliss (Jessel). In this incarnation, the veteran stage actress speaks in soft enchanting tones. Yet every subtle smirk and slightly raised eyebrow conveys notes of delighted malice. A lovely sacrifice has been delivered.
Stevenson adeptly presents herself as an inquisitive young woman delighted by the prospect of studying the locale while her view is obscured by a trusting ingenuousness. This latter trait proves to be so dominant that Nan makes choices that Siskel and Ebert long ago characterized as "too stupid to live." When eerie chants rise faintly from the floor of her room, Nan just has to explore-even though she must proceed through a passageway of blackened brick.
Before the doomed beauty is descends to the passageway, Moxey uses Stevenson to introduce some salacious moments that are more laughable than compelling. When Ms Barlow slips out of her dress, she is wearing a bustier. Huh!
Moving forward much like Psycho, which was realeased at about the same time, Nan's brother (Dennis Lotis) traces her path to the wicked place.
The older Barlow's investigation is a compelling and elicits increasing concern for his safety and.heightening hopes that he can by some means deliver Whitewood from evil. The tension is adeptly increased by the cinematography of Desmond Dickinson, featuring groupings of livid faces delineated by deep shadows. As the movie progresses toward a conclusion, the chanting of the witches becomes as chilling as New England fog. The fortunes of.the good rise and fall and rise again in the tension of the final fabulous minutes.
When Moxey returns the viewers to the 20th century, the face of Professor Driscoll (Christopher Lee) fills the screen. He repeats the cries of the Puritans, "burn, witch, burn, witch, burn, witch, burn" before a circle of students gathered for a seminar in his living room. Driscoll's impassioned lecture inspires one of his students to begin research on the site of the execution.
Nan Barlow (Venetia Stevenson) steps shin-deep into swirling white vapor and gazes around Whitewood. Great clouds of white hang between the buildings, masking gaps in the set. The fog serves Moxey in another way: it presents the suggestion that the witches who now control the town have produced the shrouds of clouds to hide Whitewood from the outside world.
Ms Barlow enters the lobby of the Raven's Inn, a dimly lit space where the silence is brocken only by voices and the heavy ticking of a clock. Within the gloom, Stevenson's platinum blonde hair is luminous while she addresses her hostess, Mrs Newliss (Jessel). In this incarnation, the veteran stage actress speaks in soft enchanting tones. Yet every subtle smirk and slightly raised eyebrow conveys notes of delighted malice. A lovely sacrifice has been delivered.
Stevenson adeptly presents herself as an inquisitive young woman delighted by the prospect of studying the locale while her view is obscured by a trusting ingenuousness. This latter trait proves to be so dominant that Nan makes choices that Siskel and Ebert long ago characterized as "too stupid to live." When eerie chants rise faintly from the floor of her room, Nan just has to explore-even though she must proceed through a passageway of blackened brick.
Before the doomed beauty is descends to the passageway, Moxey uses Stevenson to introduce some salacious moments that are more laughable than compelling. When Ms Barlow slips out of her dress, she is wearing a bustier. Huh!
Moving forward much like Psycho, which was realeased at about the same time, Nan's brother (Dennis Lotis) traces her path to the wicked place.
The older Barlow's investigation is a compelling and elicits increasing concern for his safety and.heightening hopes that he can by some means deliver Whitewood from evil. The tension is adeptly increased by the cinematography of Desmond Dickinson, featuring groupings of livid faces delineated by deep shadows. As the movie progresses toward a conclusion, the chanting of the witches becomes as chilling as New England fog. The fortunes of.the good rise and fall and rise again in the tension of the final fabulous minutes.