Secret, strange, dark, impure and dissonant... Enter the haunted landscapes of folk horror, a world of -pagan -village conspiracies, witch finders, and teenagers awakening to evil; of dark fairy tales, backwoods cults and obsolete technologies. Beginning with the classics Night of the Demon, Witchfinder General, The Wicker Man and Blood on Satan's Claw, We Don't Go Back surveys the genre of screen folk horror from across the world. Travelling from Watership Down to The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, with every stop in between, We Don't Go Back is a thoughtful, funny and essential overview of folk horror in TV and cinema.
An avowedly personal but nonetheless pretty authoritative guide to the somewhat nebulous field of folk horror viewing. Ingham gets very shy at any suggestion of being an expert – but what does being an expert mean if it's not getting through an awful lot of relevant material, thinking about it smartly and critically, and from all that synthesising work which passes on one's findings to the interested general reader? There's also, importantly, that willingness, having learned the rules, to prod at them and ask why we include one thing but not another. Consider the usual 'unholy trinity' of Wicker Man, Witchfinder General and Blood on Satan's Claw; Ingham politely dissents, for very different reasons, as regards the greatness of two-thirds of them, makes an unfashionable but well-argued reading of the one unarguable titan among them, and then for good measure proposes a fourth film which should have been included alongside them from the start. And for the most part, I'm convinced, and even when I do disagree, none of it ever feels remotely like a hot take. It's thoughtful, sincere, the product of an empathic and considered response. (That titan, of course, being as Ingham notes one of those films based around a twist, but whose twist is now known so well that it's on the front cover of the DVD. Similarly, because it would be extremely hard to write anything meaningful which didn't, be aware that this is a book which as a rule will give away the twists of the films it discusses – unapologetically, but not without warning. If that's a problem, read carefully)
Some of the other canonical material prompts the thought that 'folk horror' isn't quite the right term, anyway; 'pagan film' is proposed as an alternative, albeit with the implicit resignation that it's a bit late now and we're probably stuck with the other term. And Ingham's quite right, something like Penda's Fen isn't exactly horror. The essay on it here, incidentally, a sort of oblique autobiography (as the best reviews often will be, however fragmentary) is one of the finest pieces in the book. Elsewhere, the choices range from the surprising (Duel in particular, when I would have thought Deliverance a more obvious candidate from that era of Hollywood) to the delightful; I was very glad to see the overlooked Moondial get some much-deserved praise (and if you think I'm biased because it was filmed near where I grew up, and we went on trips there, and I got to see the dial myself, though alas only by day - well, you'd be right, but isn't that kind of tie to the land just what this stuff is about?). There's a very interesting bit on Doctor Who's flirtations with folk horror, which doubles as an excellent introduction to Who in general (without taking up much space at all, Ingham gets through everything from its constant shapeshifting and inconstant vision, to the last two seasons of the classic show being the best, and Matt Smith the greatest post-hiatus Doctor), as well as departing from the obvious checklist of The Daemons et al to find surprisingly meaty food for though in the little-loved The Awakening.
Especially once you start on these eruptions of folk horror into other shows, the potential source material is of course vast, meaning there are inevitably things where I want to say 'But what about..?' For instance: Robin of Sherwood may well have been the last screen Robin Hood with much room for Friar Tuck and the supernatural, but I'd love to hear what Ingham would make of Philip Purser-Hallard's Devices trilogy, which comes at those elements a little sideways. Then again, I'd love more people in general to know those books, their terrible covers notwithstanding. I did feel a slight dilution of focus in some of the material covering other countries' take on folk horror; it's not that the pieces aren't interesting, but the simple fact of being at more of a remove from the material, and the obligations which come with that (of which Ingham is scrupulously aware) mean they tend not to have the same intimacy and urgency as the responses to the British material, and I can't help but feel they might have worked better as a companion volume, leaving the initial tome as an examination of British folk horror, and the distinct dreads and numinous moments which derive from "a land that has no untrodden places, only abandoned ones". Still, I suppose that would have meant a folk horror book without The Witch, and when you're crowdfunding a book largely derived from a blog, there's an understandable desire to give backers their money's worth. The online origins don't show through too much, though; there are occasional repetitions you'll notice if you read it straight through, but that's true for most books written as guides, because it's not really what they're made for.
That's repetitions in the sense of 'might have edited one of those', of course; elsewhere, they're entirely deliberate, the unpicking of the shared stuff of these nightmares, the very folk horror realisation that all these apparently coincidental incidents had a pattern behind them. And in a sense they were coincidental; as Ingham reminds us, until the recent revival, folk horror was indeed an 'accidental genre', one you can see once it's pointed out to you, but only one of whose cornerstones was knowingly made as a folk horror film. Which is part of why its borders can seem so vague sometimes; I occasionally get vexed at the way people posting in Facebook's Folk Horror Revival group tend to treat 'folk horror' as just a trendy way of saying 'horror', running the risk of the term becoming as meaningless as 'iconic'. But Ingham has a much clearer idea, and while part of that is the 'you know it when you see it' sort of family resemblance, a key theme which keeps coming back is the notion that "it was you they wanted all along". And that's what this book feels like: the right person in the right place at the right time to put bounds on something which was falling apart, to give form to the chaos, to make sure the crops don't fail and chaos doesn't reign. I'm trying to resist the temptation to end this with 'Wouldst thou view deliciously?' but Hell, resisting temptation never seems to go too well in these stories anyway.
This is an absolute must-read for anyone interested in folk horror or simply in subgenres of horror in general. It's a comprehensive, meticulously compiled set of thoughtful essays on folk horror cinema and TV.
This isn't a directory you'd go to for cast lists and production info, and it's all the better for that. These essays are personal critical responses - perfect for the folk horror genre, where the very personal feelings of unease that the work evokes in the individual are absolutely key to its impact.
That doesn't mean, however, that it isn't well-informed and full of fascinating details. Howard Ingham really knows his stuff and this book reads like a labour of love in the best possible way. You may feel that some of the inclusions are unexpected, but every one of them is undoubtedly appropriate. You'll find new perspectives on old favourites, excellent suggestions for further viewing, and those eerie viewing experiences of your childhood, the residual half-memories of which still gently haunt you. Ingham also has a ratings system for each entry, expressed through symbols that classify the type of piece he feels it is (including one for whether it did, indeed, actually scare him). He also considerately includes a discreet warning at the beginning of each entry for any content that strays beyond the usual realms of horror and into subjects that some readers might find specifically distressing for other reasons.
If, like me, you're already a folk horror fan, this book is essential reading; you'll love reading new perspectives on your own favourites and you're sure to find a few gems you haven't yet seen. And if you're fairly new to folk horror and just getting your head around what it really is, this is a fantastic place to start.
I'd read all of these on the author's website over the past few years, Room 207 Press, but I couldn't pass up the chance to read them all again, one after the other.
This is the authoritative guide to folk/pagan horror on the screen and I can't see it being surpassed.
I know it's a thing now to turn blog post into books but I don't enjoy them-the proportion of information to opinion is unbalanced. Knowing nothing about the author but deeply interested in the subject, I found myself groaning in several places, both at the author's arrogance and lack of subtlety, but also at the muddled manner of discussing the subject and films-granted that's because I wanted this to be a different book. I would recommend this only as an overview of the genre to guide further watching, as a book to read, it's drudgery.
Reflections and lessons learned/the content of this book made me feel…
…grateful and nostalgic for the specific genre. I only scan read half of the entries that I wasn’t so familiar with, but I’ve now got lots of inspiration for new things that I’m keen on watching. A wonderful tribute to the ones that I did know, and well put discussion for inclusion on some of the more random entries - all too easy to lump together as horror when some are so much more than that
Great book! I didn't realize "Folk Horror" was a thing until a few years ago, but have long been a fan of these types of movies (The Wicker Man, the Witch, Witchfinder General, etc.). I'd been exploring the genre more over the past few years, and this book will be a great help in tracking down the films and shows. Prioritizing the gems, and avoiding the duds.
Ingham's writing style is clear and conversational, and he knows his stuff. I appreciate how he's presenting the articles about each subject not as in depth reviews, but more his own opinions, and discussion about how the films affected him. Art is subjective, and my tastes may not intersect with his all the time, but more often than not I'm finding the book a great reference.
Looking forward to checking out some of the films in the book which I've not seen, and revisiting old favorites with a fresh perspective.
A highly subjective but also very entertaining discussion of folk horror in film and television. Beginning with the '(Un)holy trinity' (plus 1) of particularly British folk horror movies (The Wicker Man, Blood on Satan's Claw, The Witchfinder General, and Night of the Demon) through the peculiarly American folk horror of The Autopsy of Jane Doe and Get Out, this layman's guide to the horrors of place is well worth a read.
The author touches on both well-known and fairly-obscure offerings (the discussion of the little known 'Ghost Stories for Christmas' television episodes from early 70s Britain was of particular interest) - I was pleased to end the book with a list of films that were previously unknown to me.
Howard David Ingham presents themselves as an expert, but not an authority: they have immersed themselves in folk horror, but keeps the door open for other opinions. In fact, they deliberately commissioned several entries by authors they thought would have better insight on those works. It's the kind of cinema studies approach I can get behind.
The prose style is frequently bloggy--conversational and sprinkled with personal anecdotes--and for the most part sidesteps the minutiae that bogs down film noir as to whether folk horror is technically a genre, style or movement. I think those arguments have merit, but why spend time on classification over works and content?
Content wise it runs the gamete of takes I agree with to ones so different from my interpretations that they were interesting in how much I disagreed with them. It nevertheless gave me a lot to ponder as I watch these films and form my own opinions.
I hope a second edition get produced for no other reason but in 2023 it seems unthinkable to have a book about folk horror that doesn't include "Midsommar," which was released the year after the publication of "We Don't Go Back". I am definitely curious as to how it fits into the revival films according to Ingham.
I find folk horror a really fascinating sub-genre, so Ingham's Watcher's Guide was right up my alley. This is an incredibly well researched and thought out book. I enjoyed reading Ingham's takes on films that I had already seen and walked away with a sizable list of movies that I hadn't seen but absolutely need to watch now. Warning that there are spoilers in some of his analyses, so tread carefully when reading about films you haven't seen yet. In a couple of instances, I disagreed with his takes on certain films (specifically the original The Wicker Man and The Witch), but, especially in the case of The Wicker Man, I appreciated his ideas and enjoyed looking at the film in a different light.
I recommend this one to all horror film fans, and fans of interesting cinema in general. Folk horror is such an under explored sub-genre that is just now starting to get a lot of scholarly interest, and Ingham's book is a good place to start for those interested in learning more.
Well written and researched book on Folk Horror, featuring films and television series, including, of course, the famous 'Unholy Trinity' of films. Howard and his contributors do a fine job of analysing why these films work (or don't work), and often highlight praiseworthy aspects of a film that, overall, failed to deliver.
An absolute must-read for devotees of this important strand of film.
Written in a lively and often humorous style, this is a great compendium of reviews of films and TV in the genre. I'd watched about 80% of them, so this has become a treasure trove of things to hunt down and watch. Whether some of the entries count as folk-horror is a moot point, but so is the very definition of the term, so I think we can let that go. Great book overall.
An interesting look at what folk horror is and a deep dive in to some classic folk horror films. Some I’d seen ant some I hadn’t. I look forward to keeping an eye out and filling in the gaps!
I was really excited to read this book since there are limited books on Folk Horror. This book specifically focuses on films and classifies them into different kinds of subgenres relating to elements of folk horror. I really appreciated this kind of taxonomy in that Ingram presents themes and ideas that span across many of them, but also looks at historical differences in different studio time periods, as well as cultural differences between American and British types of folk horror, and audience demands and trends in popularity in films. This book is part encyclopedia and part cultural criticism, all wrapped up in a loving pursuit of folk horror. I loved that Ingram is able to examine so many different films, and look for common themes. I really enjoyed learning about many of the older and somewhat obscure British films and series that kind of helped to shape this genre. It was also helpful to read this book while also listening to the podcast The Evolution of Horror, which had a whole season on Folk Horror and also examined many of these films. I personally love Folk Horror—The Wicker Man is one of my all time favorite films, and I think it is one that Ingram holds up as an exemplar of this genre. I really found the American and British differences interesting, thinking about films like Texas Chain Saw Massacre and Tourist Trap in contrast with films like The Wicker Man and The Shout, which I ended up watching as a result of reading this book (it is worthwhile). In fact, I ended up with a long list of films to watch and rewatch as a result of this book, looking for some of the themes, symbols, and other tropes that Ingram analyzes in this amazing book. This is a really worthwhile book to have for anyone that is a fan of horror movies, especially those that are sometimes on the quieter side and somewhat strange. I am hopeful that at some point he revises a new edition that includes some more recent folk horror categories like the incredible La Llorna and the shocking Midsomer, which I would love to read more about and see how Ingram thinks these fit into the genre.
If you’re looking for a watchlist of seminal folk horror films, this is a good (and cheap) place to start. I thought the mini reviews/discussion that went along with each piece of media were really interesting, if a little sparse and patchy sometimes. Gave me lots of fun new things to watch and maybe helped me reevaluate some things I’d already seen.