l. As another lavish, big-budget musical adaptation of Frank Baum’s ounce Already dazzling audiences with renewed interest, Elizabeth Sankey’s mesmerizing sophomore documentary tackles with impeccable timing a binary that has troubled women for centuries — ironically, it’s Judy Set off by the Technicolor flicker of the garland. the Wizard of OzThe innocence of Glinda’s simple inquiry – “Are you a good witch or a bad witch?” – She might have looked ordinary in the film. However, it set up a trap that has ensnared women ever since: the impossible demand to choose a side, no matter the answer, condemnation remains hidden.

British filmmaker who spent several months in a psychiatric unit after experiencing severe postpartum anxiety and depression witches To resolve this age-old duality, explore how society’s deep fear of “monstrous” women has shaped everything from the witch trials of yesteryear to modern maternal mental health stigma.

Elizabeth Sankey in a scene from ‘The Witches’ Photo Credit: MUBI

As it turned out, part of the answer lay in the Wizard of Oz, A film that Sankey watched repeatedly during his recovery. She credits this to 19th century suffragette and mother-in-law Matilda Jocelyn Gage. ounce To inspire the character of Glinda, author L. Frank Baum. Elizabeth says, “Gage was one of the first to say that witches were not monstrous or evil, but rather marginalized women who were persecuted for stepping out of line.” “But Baum’s portrayal inadvertently divides them into ‘good’ and ‘bad’ – a deeply harmful idea because it ignores the nuances of the human experience.”

that detail is central witches, As it explores how society places women into a narrow range of roles: saint or sinner, caregiver or scourge, good witch or bad. Elizabeth argues that this binary reflects impossible expectations placed on women, especially mothers.

As she learned firsthand during her postpartum struggles, the risks are worryingly high. “When I was sick,” she shares, “I felt divided into good and bad versions of myself. And so the idea of ​​two versions of me fighting for control really resonated with me – the idea that I was pushed into that feeling by society and the culture I consumed.

Although witches A mix of genres, Elizabeth seems to agree that horror feels uniquely suited to feminist storytelling. “Before I got sick, I was always afraid of horror movies,” she admits. “As soon as I got over my illness, I wasn’t afraid of them anymore. Because I have gone through a phase.

She says matter-of-factly, “Men are afraid that women will laugh at them while women are afraid that men will kill them.” Which is precisely why the scary situation, with its rogues gallery of scary women, seemed like a strange balm during her recovery. “I found the women in those movies to be aspirational – not in the terrible things they were doing, but in embracing their darkness, madness, and anger.” To Elizabeth, these characters seemed less as cautionary tales and more as blueprints for autonomy and defiance in the face of Hollywood’s prescriptive, puritanical code.

Yet Elizabeth is careful not to romanticize darkness. witches Walks a fine line, respecting the complexities of postpartum mental health without sensationalizing the pain.

One of the film’s most urgent themes is what philosopher Miranda Fricker calls “testimonial injustice” – the tendency to dismiss certain voices, especially women’s, as unreliable or unworthy of belief. “I just wanted to give those women a chance to speak and tell their stories,” Elizabeth says. Her own experiences were filled with a paranoid invisibility – both self-imposed and systemic. “It’s not like I have some serious injury to my arm and I can go into the doctor’s office and say, ‘Fix this.’ I didn’t even know what was happening to me.”

Elizabeth Sankey attends the 68th BFI London Film Festival Launch at BFI Southbank in London on September 04, 2024 | Photo Credit: Shane Anthony Sinclair

She invites a lively selection of survivors, health care professionals, and historians to speak without judgment and interruption. Here the project becomes a set of shared experiences, both converging and wildly divergent. Elizabeth admits, “It was devastating but also very important to see those differences.” At its core, the film isn’t about providing answers. It’s about making space for the questions no one has dared to ask.

Since the US elections, Elizabeth has noticed a marked change in her manner witches have been received. “There’s this charged energy in the comments, which sparked passionate discussion,” she says, referencing a clip shared by MUBI. “Men and women alike seem scared, angry, and what feels unjust.” We are finding new ways to express it.” With its exploration of bodily autonomy and social control, the film resonates differently now – its themes uncomfortably entwined with the concerns of the current political climate.

But despite the weight of its subject matter, witches Not without hope. It turns out that Elizabeth’s son has a soft spot for witches – especially the green-skinned threat. the Wizard of Oz“He’s in love with the Wicked Witch of the West,” her face lights up. “It’s great. When we play I pretend to be a witch and he joins in.”

There’s something poetic about this maternal demise of the broomstick, as if Elizabeth is not only reclaiming the witch for herself, but ensuring that her son grows up to see witches as something more than villains. “I’m encouraging that magical side of her,” she smiles.

The Witches is currently available to stream on MUBI