Connecting white witches on the Moor with pre-raphaelites down in Broomhall

I saw the original Wicker Man a few years ago. It was regularly mentioned in the British movie magazine Hot Dog, Pulp had a song called "Wicker Man" on their final CD, and there was that episode of Coupling where it was mentioned.

So, thanks to Netflix, I watched.

I think I found the musical interludes too off putting to actually enjoy the film on any level, and I suspect the great love some people have for the film comes from the fact that Britt Ecklund gets naked (also while singing). Yeesh. Singing. I just couldn't get past that. Seriously, check this shit:

Yeah, I don't even know what to say to that. It's just unsettling.

Still, that weirdness seemed to be the general tone of films from the '70's. Just look at Zardoz.

That sort of weird campyness and inexplicable insanity must have been a requirement.

Of course, that doesn't explain the 2006 Wicker Man remake. Neil Labute, you made In the Company of Men. You should know better. Shame.

The only redeeming quality is the--I'm assuming--unintentional hilarity of the film. I haven't worked up the nerve to watch the whole thing yet, but thanks to the Internets, I can see all I need:

I could watch that scene with the bees all day long.