“In the beginning there was only the Moon…but she was lonely”
Across various belief systems around the world, the Sun and Moon are worshipped. Most popular, or perhaps the most well known, mythology surrounding the Sun and Moon is Wicca’s conceptualization of the Triple Moon Goddess and the Horned God. Often gendered and dualistic, these beliefs became Christianized and worship turned its focus to the son and his holy virgin mother. Dean Puckett’s directorial debut takes a critical look at these forgotten otherworldly forces that still lurk in the shadows on lands overrun by the Church.
Shot in Bodmin Moor, Cornwall, the landscape is bright and green and perfect for an isolated religious community whose location and period are purposefully ambiguous. The film follows Magpie (Emma Appleton), who is sick of being a dutiful wife to an abusive husband. The audience is immediately thrown into Magpie’s execution of said husband, an act that ignites whispers of heresy across the community. To complicate matters further, Magpie also happens to be the daughter of the town’s Pastor (Toby Stephens), the community patriarch, who feeds his followers a fear of God. His sermons uphold ideas that humans are natural born sinners, that we are born into sin “like fish in a river.” Magpie’s act of vengeance unleashes a beast upon the already suspicious community, and a panic quickly ensues.
Right away, The Severed Sun will draw in fans of folk horror with its rural setting and simple aesthetic. Magpie is also a character that horror fans may feel familiar with–she’s headstrong and not concerned with biting her tongue to curry favor with her neighbors. She is the type of modern woman that would incite a witch hunt–which calls the film’s time period into question. The community dynamics, costuming, and production design, would all suggest that this film is a period piece yet there are small details throughout that might, at first, be perceived as big ideas bursting through the seams of a tight budget. There is no rug pull when it comes to this, so it is still up to interpretation. Furthermore, there is no real dive into the truth behind the community at all. Carnal sin is taking place under almost every roof. Almost every scene plants another seed in a vast garden of scandal–but none of these seeds are ever nourished, which has me wondering if the tight 80 minute runtime could have been sacrificed for a little more depth.
Like many folk and religious horrors, The Severed Sun attempts to grapple with concepts like unity and obedience, which is often demanded in strict religious communities. We see the collapse of the social bonds that determine who warrants protection, and who is cast out. The film just never seems to fully commit itself to exploring these ideas and instead seems to be checking boxes for what fans should expect from folk horror films. Because our introduction to our main character already thrusts us into the brutality, the film is unable to ramp up from there, which will leave gorehounds (like myself) with an unsatisfied bloodlust.
Aside from gorgeous cinematography that captures a disquieting atmosphere, what saves the film are the performances from the main cast. Stephens is menacing as an authoritative pastor. Jodhi May, who portrays Andrea, a fellow mother in town who wants Magpie punished, emanates deep hatred. Even if screen time does not allow for an exploration into each of their lives, their characters feel lived in and you know something exists beneath the surface.
Altogether, The Severed Sun is a serviceable folk tale. These stories seem to be taking a hold on audiences again, especially as religious frenzy holds many of our governments and administrations hostage. Dean Puckett clearly has an eye for genre filmmaking, and I will be waiting to see what his next project might entail.
Siren Death Cult 