The Witch, Robert Eggers’ debut feature film, offers a unique approach to horror, balancing artistic and historical elements. Set in 17th-century New England, the movie dives into religious paranoia and the struggles of an isolated family in conflict. It delivers an immersive atmosphere with flawless dialogue in archaic English, a disturbing score, and cinematography that masterfully captures dark tones. The production design is impeccable, with costumes and sets that transport viewers to the era, while the performances—both from the children and adults—enhance the realism and tension of the narrative.

However, the script reveals Eggers’ inexperience. While it creates a rich, dense environment filled with potential, the film fails to tie up its themes in a satisfying way. Crucial questions about the witch figure and the events surrounding Thomasin remain unanswered, which undermines the impact of the ending. It doesn’t feel like an intentionally ambitious open ending, but rather one that neglects the story’s own development. This narrative choice, though perhaps deliberate, left me feeling a little frustrated.

Even so, The Witch has merits in its layered interpretations. It can be viewed both as a supernatural horror tale and as a psychological analysis of a family torn apart by paranoia, lies, and fears. The duality between the real and the symbolic is intriguing, but the lack of balance in the script prevents the film from reaching its full potential.

Despite its flaws, The Witch is a singular cinematic experience, with undeniable artistic weight and an interesting contribution to the horror genre. Eggers demonstrated a talent for crafting atmospheres and exploring historical and cultural nuances, even if he tested the audience’s patience in the final scenes. The good news is that the director has refined his style, and it’s already yielding even more impactful works.