Updated review: The Wicker Man
So this week we found out that Anthony Shaffer (writer) and Robin Hardy (director) didn’t get on whilst making The Wicker Man. Well, duh. I could’ve told you that.
Anyway, spookily enough I was already halfway through concocting a new review of said film, simply because I thought it was time I did one that wasn’t so shit.
And that’s this week’s update (what do you want, blood? Silly question, really – of course you do, or you wouldn’t be here). A substantially (read: completely) re-written review of probably-the-greatest-film-ever-made. And if you don’t agree I’ll put you inside a huge man whilst a goat pisses on you. (What do you mean, “yes please”?)
Yes, we’ve all seen it. Yes, that means a review isn’t really needed. But for completism’s sake, just indulge me, will you? And bear in mind that the old review, even adapted in the great purge of ’22, was still not great. At least this one has a few jokes in it. Although I’m using that word advisedly.
