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A belligerent and hard-nosed reflection of Edward Woodward’s befuddled Sgt. Howie in the original film, Malus is as unsympathetic a protagonist as any audience could hope to avoid.
Asked to investigate the disappearance of a young girl, Malus finds his way to Summersisle, a tight-knit, isolated community far from civilization. There he runs headlong into one false lead and dead end after another, losing more patience with each question asked of the less-than-helpful populace. While the 1973 original was able to deliver the final, bone-jarring climax effectively under director Robin Hardy, there is no such anticipation in this lifeless remake.
 Perhaps the most disappointing lack of refined talent is felt in the absence of Christopher Lee as the chillingly cavalier Lord Summersisle. Instead, the otherwise admirable Ellyn Burstyn is saddled with the role of Sister Summersisle in perhaps the worst reworking of an antagonist in recent memory next to Jake Lloyd as Darth Vader. As the community’s spiritual leader, she explains to Malus the workings of the island’s spooky society, which is directly with odds with the fun-loving, jovial pagans that populate Anthony Schaffer’s original novel and screenplay.
“We love our men,” Sister Summersisle sweetly declares in her defense, even though the men in question are clearly broken, nearly inanimate drones who may or may not have had their tongues cut out, since they never say a word. The Wicker Man festival is a celebration of fertility, yet the remake steers away from any notion that fertility is happening anywhere on the island save for the brief appearance of several pregnant women. There is no tangible evidence that a celebration is in the works, while the original unapologetically parades nude revelers which serve to unnerve the otherwise unflappable Sgt. Howie.
When asked by Lord Summerisle if the sight of the young people invigorates him, Sgt. Howie replies, “No, they do not.” Cage/Malus is not given any such opportunity here, except to accuse the Sisterhood of inbreeding – which runs counter to the purpose of a fertility celebration, after all. Even on an island populated largely by women in the midst of a fertility celebration, Officer Malus is not even given an attempt at seduction. Although such a subplot would test his character’s moral fiber while demonstrating the divergent morality of the island, LaBute instead decides to up the non-ante by revealing that the missing girl is his daughter. Surprise!
 By the end, I was very happy to have seen the original first. Not only was I glad to know what fate awaited Cage’s bellicose character, each misstep and piece of false evidence he uncovered was as obvious to me as if I’d been handed a copy of the shooting script on my way into the theater. My greatest complaint about the finale, however, was being denied the sight of Malus having his legs broken before being carried to the Wicker Man.
After living through “Con Air” and “Gone in 60 Seconds”, I would have liked to have at least seen what Cage’s off-screen howling of “My legs!” entailed, even if I was still aware it wasn’t actually happening. A man responsible for any film entitled “Bash” such as LaBute should know when to show someone having their legs crushed.
Not only am I determined never to view this movie again, I am now equally determined to find an uncut version of the original UK film. That, if anything, should illustrate to you, gentle reader, the vast suckness of this lamentable retread.
Now if they could have only gotten Jerry Bruckheimer into the Wicker Man . . .
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