Witchcraft and pandemonium spectacle have long been intertwined in human history. The concept of witchcraft, the practice of magic or sorcery, has been a source of fascination and fear for centuries. It has also been intrinsically linked to pandemonium, a state of wild and chaotic disorder. Throughout history, witchcraft has been both celebrated and condemned. In some cultures, witches were revered as wise healers and spiritual leaders, while in others they were feared and persecuted as agents of evil. The belief in witchcraft was often rooted in superstition and the fear of the unknown, as well as religious and societal power dynamics.
Bailey's translations—the four texts described above, as well another descriptive text, "The Vauderie of Lyons," and materials from two witch trials—constitute the major narrative sources for the emergence of an idea of conspiratorial witchcraft in a single decade of the fifteenth century. In the General Introduction Bailey delineates the key elements in common among his translated sources on the witches' sabbath as demonic assemblies, night flight and nighttime revels, entering the Devil's service, infanticide and cannibalism, and sex with the Devil. The first translation, Report on [End Page 430] Witchcraft in Valais, by Lausanne chronicler Hans Fründ is an account of reported witch trials and executions that began around 1428 in the diocese of Sion. Fründ's report is unique among these sources in mentioning witch lycanthropy. For the next source, Claude Tholosan's So That the Errors of Magicians and Witches . . . , Bailey translates only the most relevant section (the first third of the text) as it alone narrates the diabolical actions of witch assemblies. A secular lawyer in Dauphiné, Tholosan is mainly concerned that witch prosecution should fall under his own jurisdiction. He presents witches as foreign to the region of Briançon, hence he seeks to persuade society that those folks who are consulted for healing or necromancy are part of a vast yet clandestine demonic network. The third work, Errors of the Gazarii, was long thought to be an anonymous work although Swiss historian Martine Ostorero has recently argued that Ponce Feugeyron is the likely author. Derived from a general term for criminals or heretics (gazarii), Errors describes the diabolical transgressions committed at the sabbath and cites avarice and cupidity as major motivations for joining a witch's sect. Next comes a selection of translations from books 2 and 5 of Johannes Nider's Anthill (Formicarius written 1438, printed 1475). This diffuse treatise includes both new (in the fifteenth century.
These important works by both secular and ecclesiastical authorities offer varying perspectives; the idea of the sabbath lacks the uniformity seen in witchcraft treatises of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. In the General Introduction Bailey delineates the key elements in common among his translated sources on the witches sabbath as demonic assemblies, night flight and nighttime revels, entering the Devil s service, infanticide and cannibalism, and sex with the Devil.
The belief in witchcraft was often rooted in superstition and the fear of the unknown, as well as religious and societal power dynamics. The association of witchcraft with pandemonium spectacle arises from the perceived disruption of the natural order. The use of magic and sorcery was seen as a blatant defiance of the established norms and laws of society, leading to chaos and disorder.
Witches, Artists, and Pandemonium in Hereditary
I had been sitting in a lovesick fog, waiting to see Ari Aster’s Hereditary, ever since I first heard about it. I don’t usually follow new movie releases too closely, but I found out about the movie back in January, when people at the Sundance Film Festival lost their minds about how good it was. As soon as I saw the words The Exorcist and The Shining attached to the film’s publicity materials, I knew I had to see it.
I spent six agonizing months memorizing its trailers, watching YouTube fan movies (and considering making my own), talking to my friends about it until they began rolling their eyes, and dreaming about its possible endings. I fell madly in love with the idea of what it could be and what it might do to my imagination. For a poet, this is a movie’s greatest gift.
The film came out on June 8, and I’ve already seen it twice. The first time, I saw it only through my fingers. I kept my hands plastered on my face, trying to avoid any jump scares (something I wish I had done when I first saw The Shining nearly twenty years ago and the ghost of room 237 began her lifelong emblazonment on my psyche). The second time, I wrote notes in a green notebook in the dark, scribbling half-words that I can barely read now. It reminded me of the way I first started writing poems in the darkness of my bedroom when I was a little girl.
After so much anticipation, it is only natural that I am not exactly sure how I feel about the movie. The biggest problem with Hereditary is that it isn’t actually a horror movie at all. Or at least what we think a horror movie should be. If you are looking for blood and gore, you may be disappointed. If you go into the movie expecting to not be able to sleep for weeks, you might be disappointed then, too. I had hoped for those things. During these awful times we need some form of catharsis from our art. I went in looking for some sort of psychic salvation, the sort that only horror movies can give. As any horror movie lover knows, watching people be hunted and killed by ghosts and monsters can provide the necessary hyperbole to our reality-based fears. Which, if you are living and conscious in the world today, are currently quite overwhelming.
Hereditary billed itself as a film about the legacy of the devil, but it isn’t really about demons at all. It’s about what people do when they feel life is pointless. It’s about where you go after you realize that all those who are supposed to keep you safe (your parents, your government, your police force, your employers, your school, your places of worship) have not only failed you, but have been plotting all along for your demise. It’s a deeply paranoid movie, which is its own kind of horror. Real horror. The devils in the movie are the ones we know are actually there, waiting in the dark. They’re us.
It seems clear that Hereditary is an extremely feminist movie, but what its message is, I am not sure. The evil runs through the matriarchal line and so does the power. The women in the film are the architects of the downfall of the Graham family. They include Ellen Graham, the grandmother who has recently died from a protracted illness and has Dissociative Identity Disorder, Annie, the mother (Toni Colette) and a professional miniaturist, and Charlie, the daughter (Milly Shapiro) who also makes figurines. The lead male characters, like the son Peter (Alex Wolff), and the long-suffering husband, Steve (Gabriel Brye), are extraordinarily flat characters. Peter is a typical stoner teenager, with no real interests other than getting high and staring at girls’ butts in class. Steve is pretty good at sighing a lot and going along with the tragic events of the film, but doesn’t seem to have any say in what happens to his family or even himself. The men in Hereditary are always there, but they are not really there. Lost and vacuous, they populate the movie as effortlessly as Toni’s miniature scenes and Charlie’s figurines. Everything male in the film exists simply as accessories to a great female-focused design.
Hereditary is really about the power of art-making, and the movie’s artists are all female. Their artwork is craft-based, works that have long been associated with female labor. Ellen Graham (perhaps named after the socialite photographer) knits beautifully creepy welcome mats for her family and cult family members. Annie has enjoyed some commercial success with her miniature work (a NYC art gallery is hounding her to finish her work for an upcoming gallery show). She uses her tableaus to control the traumatic events of her life. It’s reminiscent of the poet Susan Stewart, who wrote that a “miniature offers a world clearly limited in space but frozen” or “a materialized secret.” Annie’s daughter, Charlie, makes terrifying and fascinating “dolls” out of found objects, most of these objects being the heads of dead animals. In the movie, the females are the true masterminds, who attempt to control life and death, and conjure only as real artists know how to.
And yet, unfortunately, the depiction of female witches in Hereditary tends towards the cliché. Witchcraft is demonized, and the witches represent our fear of anyone not practicing the one, maybe two, organized religions that we have deemed acceptable in this country. Joanie and her kindred use magick to conjure knowledge and wealth for themselves and kill several people in the process—the ultimate capitalistic act. The movie’s depiction of them is tied to America’s long history of persecuting women for witchcraft, such as in the Salem witch trials. Aster plays on our fears that the secretive rituals of women are always about evil, but many witches today practice in the occult world so as to help heal people. (Check out Mya Spalter’s new book, Enchantments, to find out more.) I’d love to watch a movie by Aster about good witches one day. That is, if he’s into that.
The great female American poet and witch Joni Mitchell sends us off after the movie’s wild last scene (a scene you are sure to remember for at least the rest of your life.) As the credits roll, Both Sides Now blasts and, as in Kierkegaard’s Fear and Trembling, we are forced to reconcile how we feel about people sacrificing everything to a god (or in this case, a demon). It’s love’s illusions I recall/ I really don’t know love/ At all …
Dorothea Lasky is the author of Milk (Wave Books, 2018). Her poem “A Hospital Room,” appeared in our Spring 2018 issue.
Dorothea Lasky is the author of Milk (Wave Books, 2018). Her poem “A Hospital Room,” appeared in our Spring 2018 issue.
Witchcraft was believed to bring about calamity, whether it be crop failures, diseases, or other misfortunes. This association heightened the fear and anxiety surrounding witchcraft, further fueling the pandemonium spectacle. In many cultures, witchcraft trials and executions were public spectacles, designed to evoke fear and serve as a deterrent to others. These events were often elaborate, theatrical displays, with accusations, interrogations, and tortures meant to extract confessions. The pandemonium spectacle was intended to showcase the power of the ruling authorities and reaffirm societal norms and values. However, it is worth noting that the pandemonium spectacle surrounding witchcraft often served as a tool for controlling and oppressing marginalized groups, particularly women. The majority of accused witches were women, and their alleged crimes were often tied to their perceived deviation from traditional gender roles and expectations. In this way, witchcraft and the pandemonium spectacle became intertwined with misogyny and the subjugation of women. In modern times, witchcraft has evolved into a more diverse and inclusive practice, encompassing a range of spiritual beliefs and traditions. The pandemonium spectacle surrounding witchcraft has largely diminished, but remnants of fear and prejudice still linger. It is crucial to approach the topic with an open mind and recognize the historical and cultural context that shaped our perceptions of witchcraft and pandemonium spectacle. Overall, witchcraft and pandemonium spectacle have a complex and intertwined history. The fear and fascination surrounding witchcraft have fueled the pandemonium spectacle, leading to the persecution and marginalization of certain groups. It is essential to examine and question these narratives, understanding the broader societal forces at play..
Reviews for "The Cultural Relevance of Witchcraft and Pandemonium Spectacle in Different Countries and Regions"
1. Emily - 1/5 stars - I found "Witchcraft and pandemonium spectacle" to be extremely disappointing. The storyline was convoluted and confusing, making it difficult to follow along. Additionally, the acting was subpar and lacked any real emotion or depth. The special effects were also lackluster and didn't add anything significant to the overall production. Overall, I would not recommend wasting your time or money on this play.
2. Jacob - 2/5 stars - "Witchcraft and pandemonium spectacle" fell short of my expectations. The dialogue felt forced and unnatural, making it hard to fully engage with the characters. The pacing was also off, with slow and dull moments that made the play drag on. While the set design was visually appealing, it couldn't compensate for the lack of substance in the script. I left the theater feeling underwhelmed and wanting more.
3. Anna - 2/5 stars - I was excited to see "Witchcraft and pandemonium spectacle" based on the hype surrounding it, but unfortunately, it didn't live up to my expectations. The plot was disjointed, and the characters felt underdeveloped. The performance lacked energy and failed to captivate the audience. The play seemed to rely heavily on flashy visuals and effects, but it fell short in creating a meaningful and immersive experience. Overall, I was left feeling unsatisfied and would not recommend this production.