Particular attention must be given to Edward Woodward as Neil Howie and Christopher Lee as Lord Summerisle, of course. Perfect foils, they both make use of every second they're on screen. Woodward bleeds passion and conviction, especially in the ending. He is the perfect audience surrogate, surveying the setting with the same suspicion and discomfort, trying to piece it all together as we are. Where Woodward burns, Lee simmers, a quiet confidence but no less certain. That certainty of both Lee and the rest of the ensemble produces the unsettling effect of Howie almost feeling like the fanatic, especially as he becomes more and more determined and disdainful of them all. Is it only the fact that others share them that makes our beliefs feel so obvious, so natural? If we were dropped into a world were everyone around us believes so completely something radically different, would we feel as lost, as under siege, as doomed?

The Wicker Man has been oft duplicated, with works like Midsommar putting their own unique spin on similar premises, but it has never been replaced. It still burns bright today, forever reborn through its influences. As both a piece of film culture and as a standalone work, it can't be missed.