Absorbing British creeper that’s so beautifully made and perfectly paced that some writers get tempted to treat it as more than what it is, which is simply a great horror story. It starts off as an offbeat detective tale with Edward Woodward as a straight-arrow policeman who flies out to a secluded island village to look into the case of a missing girl. His big problem: Everyone in the village denies that she exists. After he stumbles upon orgies in the woods and sees bizarre public rituals, he figures out that the whole community practices their own pagan religion, which raises strange new questions about the case. It also rankles his devout Christian sensibility.
One of many great things about this film is that it never takes a stance on who here has their head screwed on the straightest. I’ve read some people call this film pro-Christian and I’ve read others call it anti-Christian. I disagree with them both.
Edward Woodward’s policeman is a definite oddball. He’s such an arch Christian that he’s still a virgin. He has no sense of humor. Bawdy jokes are lost on him. Never cracks a smile even once. He’s a good investigator though, and he’s our guide into this film’s strange world—but the hippies of 1973 were never going to relate to this guy. There’s a wall between us and him, which is intentional.
Meanwhile, the pagan villagers have compellingly poetic notions about death and nature. They’re also interesting, funny, and their leader (Christopher Lee, whose powerhouse screen presence is taken full advantage of here) is one charming fella. They’re secretive though, and trade in some truly primitive ideas. On one level, they’re crazy. On another level, any religion that gets Britt Ekland to dance around naked can’t be all bad.
Based on the novel Ritual by David Pinner, who isn’t mentioned in the credits.