Season of the Witch is about Joan Mitchell (Jan White), a housewife approaching middle age. Her 19-year-old daughter is on the verge of moving out, and her husband Jack all but ignores her. When she learns a new neighbor is a practicing witch, Joan is intrigued and seeks to learn more about witchcraft and magic. She casts a spell to seduce her daughter's boyfriend, but as the line between fantasy and reality blurs, she becomes plagued by nightmares of a dark figure attacking her in her home.
"Oh, how in the hell can someone have so many opinions without ever having done anything?"
Befitting a movie surrounding a woman's questions about her identity, Season of the Witch has a few different monikers that reflect the different, conflicting ideas regarding the movie's nature.
It was filmed under the title Jack's Wife, indicative of the film's focus as a drama about a woman's domestic roles, but initially released under the name Hungry Wives, a misguided attempt to market the movie as a softcore porno (there is some sex and nudity, but it's fairly limited). Later, after the successes of Dawn of the Dead and Creepshow, it was re-released Season of the Witch to capitalize on Romero's horror clout (and to further add confusion, this was around the time of Halloween 3: Season of the Witch, which has no connection).
Admittedly, Season of the Witch has some horror moments. Joan has freaky nightmares of being assaulted by that dark figure, who wears a weird mask and might not be human. And an experienced spellcaster warns Joan that using the magic for frivolous, selfish motives could invite the wrath of dark spirits, driving Joan to fear and paranoia after her extramarital tryst.
If we're going with the more accurate title, Jack's Wife would be the most fitting. This is the story of a woman who has been defined by her roles a wife and mother, but now, with her husband often absent and her daughter no longer needing her as a caregiver, Joan questions her worth and who she is.
Much of Joan's day involves household chores. At night, when she and Jack attend parties in their middle-class suburban neighborhood, she's barely involved or noticed, and she sees all the other housewives who drink too much, have too much time on their hands, and are bored by their existence. She's referred to often as Mrs. Mitchell or simply Jack's wife.
As the film opens, Joan dreams of following her husband through the woods. He reads a newspaper, oblivious as he whacks her in the face with tree branches before putting her on a leash and leaving her in a cage. The dream continues, and in her reflection, Joan sees herself as an old, ugly hag, her youth and life wasted.
If nothing else, witchcraft gives Joan some purpose and some agency or at the very least something to do.
"There is no magic."
Much like Romero's later film Martin, about a young man who or may not actually be a vampire, Season of the Witch plays the magic angle ambiguously. It's possible explores something genuinely supernatural and plays with dark forces beyond her comprehension. It's equally likely, if not more so, that the power is all in her head.
Maybe the spell Joan casts causes her daughter's boyfriend to show up for some sex, or maybe the magic is a placebo, giving her the confidence to call him on the phone. He seemed into her before she got turned on to witchcraft, referring to her as "Mrs. Robinson" and all but telling her he is down for some kinkiness.
Early in the film, Gregg, the boyfriend, tricks a friend of Joan's into thinking she smoked marijuana. She acts loopy and high until he reveals the truth. It was all the power of suggestion, he asserts. The mind is what gives the magic its power, and when Joan tells him she cast a spell, he's dismissive.
Maybe the dark figure of Joan's nightmares isn't the devil; it's a subconscious manifestation of the guilt she feels for her adultery. Or maybe it's metaphor for her fear of her husband, who has no problem hitting her when he feels she's out of line. From one dark master to another.
"Well, I'm just interested in it."
Joan isn't the only person connected to the film to have questions about themselves. It's possible to watch Season of the Witch and see Romero seeking his own identity as an artist and filmmaker.
The film arrived at an interesting point in his career. After the success of Night of the Living Dead, Romero would not return to zombies for another decade, devoting the interim to a variety of different projects, including a romantic comedy. None found much critical or commercial success at the time. Some have found cult audiences, and unsurprisingly, those are the ones where he more embraced the horror element.
One can watch Season of the Witch and see the artistic conflict between horror and the desire to move beyond it. Season of the Witch is more a domestic drama than a horror tale, but it's the material involving witches, black magic, and nightmares that the movie finds a groove. The scenes exploring Joan's drab, middle-class life dominate much of the narrative, and the witch component - Joan leaning into it, attempting magic, her nightmares, etc. - doesn't become more prominent until much later.
Final Thoughts
I can't help but think a stronger, more involving picture would have concentrated on the witch angle sooner and cut down on the endless dialogue scenes of Joan at parties, Joan with her therapist, and the conflict with her daughter and husband. A little goes a long way, and I'm not surprised if viewers have checked out by the time the more macabre material comes into play.
Visually, Season of the Witch looks cheap and amateurish in production values, but Romero does a few interesting things to demonstrate his talent. He frames and blocks a few interesting shots, and his editing style, which feels jarring, creates a disorienting, alienating feeling. Even the more mundane scenes have an uncanny effect, and the lack of conventional transitions and establishing shots to orient to the viewer add to a dream-like quality.
I don't know if I can recommend Season of the Witch or who might enjoy it. There's a lot to discuss, both in the context of Romero's career and the early feminist movement American society was experiencing at the time, but it's not a "fun" movie. I think the average viewer, expecting a traditional horror movie, would probably be bored, and the arthouse crowd might think the whole enterprise drab and tacky.
Still, while it's not my favorite Romero movie, I do feel compelled to revisit every so often, and each time, it feels more rewarding, with multiple angles to look at it. I don't know if that's enough of a recommendation to get anyone else to see it, but there it is.
Maybe, as a film, Season of the Witch doesn't move me much emotionally, but as a work by an interesting director striving to find his place, not unlike his heroine, it makes me think, and that's enough for me.
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