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Children have long been a staple of horror. Sometimes, children are the source of terror, like in Fritz Kiersch’s and Kurt Wimmer’s Children of the Corn adaptions. What we don’t often see is horror from a child’s point of view. Children’s naïve logic can often lend to a sense of unreality, while their vulnerable position is ideal for maximizing dread in the audience. The iconic Noriaki Yuasa took being trapped inside a child’s perspective to its most extreme with his 1968 The Snake Girl and The Silver-Haired Witch. Through surrealist imagery, Yuasa invokes a hallucinatory effect that perfectly mimics a child’s nightmare.
Nothing is Scarier Than Being a Child in ‘The Snake Girl and The Silver-Haired Witch’
The Snake Girl and The Silver-Haired Witch follows Sayuri, played by a young Yachie Matsui. The plot begins after Sayuri is plucked out of an orphanage by her long-lost birth parents who have come to take her home. Sayuri is excited until she gets there. Once home, she encounters a dead maid and meets her hostile older sister, Tamami (Mayumi Takahashi). Her father, an expert in venomous snakes, is soon called away for a work trip and Sayuri is left in the care of her amnestic mother. Things quickly go from strange to terrifying for Sayuri. Though the set-up is like a classic fairytale, with Sayuri being reunited with her rich birth family, The Snake Girl and The Silver-Haired Witch quickly reminds the audience of how frightening fairytales can be.
Sayuri is powerless in a new environment and without real allies. Her sister’s malice is both painful and confusing for Sayuri, who doesn’t understand why a family member would hate her for seemingly no reason. Throughout the film, Sayuri speaks to the audience through a voice-over. She confesses her fears and frustrations with her new life, which, in a movie that strives to confound, grounds the audience and assures them that things are just as bizarre as they appear. Though the audience sides with Sayuri, there is a bit of psychological gaslighting at play to underscore the frustration of being a child no one believes.
Despite things becoming increasingly strange and scary, the housekeeper continues to accuse Sayuri of being a colorful liar. Because the audience has witnessed what Sayuri has seen, there is a camaraderie and shared frustration every time Sayuri is rebuffed. This powerlessness is one of the most frustrating and frightening aspects of being a child. Nothing makes sense to Sayuri or the audience, and because the adults don’t believe her, they offer no help in explaining. By using Sayuri as the access point to The Snake Girl and the Silver-Haired Witch, Yuasa offers a unique, terrorizing experience, trapping the audience in that same vulnerability.
Watching ‘The Snake Girl and The Silver-Haired Witch’ Is Like an Acid Trip Without the Acid
The Snake Girl and The Silver-Haired Witch is not afraid to go there with the trippy visuals. Set against a gothic backdrop, these surrealist elements pop. The film is shot in black and white, and primarily confined to a lavishly decorated mansion. Many of the rooms are mysteriously locked, catching Sayuri and the viewer’s attention. While this suggests a more restrained tone, The Snake Girl and The Silver-Haired Witch pulls no punches in its inexplicable dream sequences, whacky special effects make-up, and unnerving gore. Claymation and puppetry are used to help convey the more fantastical elements during the dream sequences, with the uncanny valley effect bolstering the horror.
The whole film has a dreamy vibe to it, with the screen often shimmering or actual spirals appearing in the frame. This haziness is contrasted against the bursts of violence peppered throughout the film. The bulk of the gore occurs through animal death, which likely lands as a shock for modern, American audiences. The overabundance of reptiles and amphibians works with the air of unreality the film is playing with; death by snake is certainly not an everyday occurrence. The makeup for the titular snake girl is understated, but out-the-box. Showing restraint in the makeup department prevents the creature drama from feeling cheesy. Watching The Snake Girl and The Silver-Haired Witch today, the effects and makeup all feel vintage, but never campy.
The relentless barrage of oddball imagery loops back to Yuasa’s decision to frame the story from a child’s perspective. The outlandish visuals could just be Sayuri’s overactive imagination. But with none of the adults taking her seriously, the audience is pulled to Sayuri’s side. The overall psychedelic vibe of the film certainly mimics one long nightmare. That’s the brilliance of The Snake Girl and The Silver-Haired Witch, however. Sayuri and the audience can’t wake up until the credits roll, meaning they have to confront the horror without any help from the grownups.
Kyle Edward Ball’s debut 2022 film Skinamarink plays with a similar brand of horror to Yuasa’s in The Snake Girl and The Silver-Haired Witch. Inspired by the nonsensical logic of dreams, Ball establishes his point of view through two young children and allows their confusion with the bizarre situation to dictate the horror. Children’s lack of experience and power is an underutilized angle in horror. Their inability to advocate for themselves or understand what’s happening to them is real-world terror. Whereas Ball went for a gritty horror, Yuasa created a whimsical gem that has gone underappreciated by a modern audience.
The Snake Girl and The Silver-Haired Witch is available to rent on Apple TV.
- Release Date
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December 14, 1968
- Director
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Noriaki Yuasa
- Writers
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Kimiyuki Hasegawa
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