ANALYSIS: Where Haxan (1922) Goes Wrong (And Why That Probably Doesn't Matter)

Our conception of the universe, only five hundred years ago.

Witchcraft feels larger than it is.  The subject's more exploitable elements obscure the fact that witchcraft, as we see it now, is a Christian invention.  Witches emerged from the Church's persecution of women who dabbled in non-religious, shamanistic practices.  Because the spells and remedies associated with traditional "witchcraft" didn't fall under the umbrella of Christ's teachings, and, theoretically, no magic could exist outside the boundaries of a Christian worldview, the Church concluded that witchcraft was the work of Satan.  They instigated the confessions, they perpetuated the cliches, and those persecuted, with no alternative, contributed to a lurid feedback loop of moonlit dances, infanticide, and Faustian bargains.

Haxan's portrayal of what inquisitors and clergy imagined...

So I can understand why director Benjamin Christensen wallows in generalities for most of Haxan.  Despite the information supplied by title cards, the film spends most of its time showcasing the emotions, rather than the realities, of Medieval witch-hunts.  Christensen communicates those emotions with vignettes centered around basic characters likely to exist in that time.  Satan tempts a homely woman into a coven.  A clergyman witnesses the potential result of his greed.  In the film's centerpiece, an old woman suffers unendurable torture.  Her pain leads to a sad confession, in which she claims allegiance to Satan and offers other names for the inquisitors.

...influences how we picture Medieval witchcraft (Fantasia, 1940).

These anecdotal stories, broad and melodramatic, build into compelling short stories thanks to the zealous acting and the splendor of Christensen's visions.  Maren Pederson, 78 at the time of filming, portrays the old hag with such desperation and teary-eyed fear that she feels utterly genuine.  (The actress purportedly confided to the director that she believed in Satan and had once seen him in the flesh.)  Christensen himself plays the Devil with plenty of glee and energy.  His erect posture, muscular chest, and slippery tongue emphasize the carnal pleasures that supposedly drove old and neglected women into his arms.

 Pederson's suffering at the hands of the Holy is tragic and frightening.

Haxan's delirious visions, ostensibly in the name of nonfiction, achieve a grandeur equal to any horror film of its era, and superior to some, like Murnau's handsome-but-uneven Faust.  The most stunning scene involves a monk tempted by the gaiety of dancers and demons.  As he dreams, the revelry brings him closer and closer to a room decorated as a demonic face: the man risks being literally swallowed up by his desires.  By painting with such an expressionistic brush, Christensen tries to take us past facts and into the minds of people who lived in a time of great uncertainty, which was often healed by the salve of superstition.  Witchcraft was something tangible, and we see everything they expected to see.

Descriptions of "sabbats" played off patriarchal fears of sexually strong women.

However, I wonder if Christensen missed an opportunity to provide more concrete details.  In addition to the film languishing on the most outrageous (and false) claims of the Church, Haxan's conclusion rings false.  Christensen suggests that the victims of witch-hunts probably suffered from mental afflictions like kleptomania and somnambulism.  However, many of the witch-trials came about not from psychological ailments, but from either land-hungry upper-class or Church officials trying to maintain power.  Authentic evidence was incidental, and false evidence that met expectations could be "revealed" with ease, given the appropriate tools.

The film in one picture: a perfect, realistic image of what never was.

 Furthermore, by focusing so much on the images, Christensen displays the type of morbid fascination that led to such creations.  Which is to say, he sometimes appears more interested in the visions of liars than the persecution of innocents.  His method - of using the very real witch-trials of the Middle Ages as a means of highlighting macabre visions - grows discomfiting at times.  However, those feelings of unease do little to dispel the power of the film's vision.  Christensen's approach keeps Haxan brisk, bold, and beautifully stylized.  If the film's ultimately inaccurate in its details, it remains an important landmark of early horror cinema, a mostly-honorable documentary, and a feast for any pair of eyes...

...even DEVIL EYES.