Horror, Witchcraft, and the Media: A Discussion with Sarah Lyons

Witchcraft has always held a complex and multifaceted role in the media, shaped by historical shifts, societal anxieties, and evolving cultural values. From its early associations with fear and the supernatural to its more modern depictions as a tool for empowerment, witchcraft has undergone a significant transformation, especially in the hands of creators who draw from both personal experience and scholarship. Sarah Lyons, a Brooklyn-based witch, filmmaker, and writer, offers a unique perspective on this transformation. As the author of “Revolutionary Witchcraft: A Guide to Magical Activism” and the director of the horror film “The Woods”, Lyons delves into the intersections of witchcraft, horror, and media representation in a way that challenges conventions and deepens our understanding of both genres.

 The Evolution of Witchcraft in Popular Culture

Lyons begins by reflecting on how witchcraft has evolved over the years, especially within popular culture. "Witchcraft has gone through so many changes in the last couple of years alone," she observes, pointing out how Wicca, once the dominant form of modern witchcraft, no longer holds a monopoly on the practice. "I remember when I was growing up, what people knew about witchcraft, what I knew about witchcraft, was like Wicca," Lyons explains. Wicca, a modern pagan religion that emerged in the mid-20th century, became synonymous with witchcraft for many people, largely due to its prominence in popular media and the public imagination.

However, as Lyons notes, Wicca is only one facet of a much broader and older tradition. "Wicca is not what witchcraft has historically been," she emphasizes, pointing to the resurgence of interest in other forms of magic and occultism in recent years. This resurgence has been fueled by a wealth of new scholarship, podcasts, books, and media that explore the diverse and often radical history of witchcraft. For practitioners like Lyons, this shift has been liberating. "I think it's a very exciting time to practice witchcraft," she says, highlighting the increased visibility and accessibility of different traditions and perspectives.

At the same time, Lyons acknowledges the tension between the commercialization of witchcraft and its more subversive, underground roots. "There's the capitalist cooption of it," she says, referencing the way witchcraft has been commodified in recent years. The rise of "witch kits" in retail stores, social media influencers promoting witchy aesthetics, and the commercialization of occult symbols have made witchcraft more accessible but also more consumer-driven. "I appreciate and am more in favor of witchcraft being what it is now than what it was a decade or two ago," Lyons adds, but she remains wary of the ways in which capitalism has diluted its radical potential.

Witchcraft in Media: The Fantastical vs. the Real

Media portrayals of witchcraft have long oscillated between fantasy and reality, a theme Lyons explores in depth. As someone who grew up watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Charmed, she understands the appeal of fantastical witches on screen. "There's something to be said for the fantastical and fun," she admits, acknowledging that these media portrayals often spark curiosity and wonder about real-life witchcraft. Shows like Sabrina the Teenage Witch may not accurately reflect the nuances of witchcraft, but they provide an accessible entry point for many people, especially young viewers.

Yet, Lyons is also critical of the tendency to reduce witchcraft to a simple metaphor for empowerment, especially in modern media. "With a lot of stuff in media these days, it feels like we've decided what's empowering and what's not empowering," she observes. While witchcraft can certainly be about empowerment, Lyons argues that it is far more complex than that. "The word 'witch' is a gender-neutral term," she points out, highlighting the diverse cultural and historical contexts in which witchcraft has appeared.

Lyons’ own work seeks to explore this complexity. In her book Revolutionary Witchcraft, she examines the radical potential of witchcraft as a tool for political and social change, challenging the mainstream narrative that often equates witchcraft solely with empowerment for women. Instead, she delves into its anti-authoritarian roots and its potential as a form of resistance against oppressive systems.

Horror as Catharsis: The Power of Fear

In addition to her work as a writer, Lyons is also a filmmaker, and her film The Woods explores the psychological and emotional depths of horror. For Lyons, horror is a genre that offers unique opportunities for catharsis. "Fear is one of the most primal human emotions," she explains, and horror films allow audiences to engage with that fear in a controlled environment. "Horror relies on the body," Lyons says, emphasizing the physical and visceral nature of the genre. Unlike many other forms of art, which tend to prioritize intellectual or aesthetic experiences, horror is deeply emotional, often provoking powerful reactions in viewers.

Lyons also believes that horror is one of the most creatively free genres. "You put something a little spooky in there and you can talk about anything," she says. Horror, by its very nature, allows filmmakers to explore taboo subjects, challenge societal norms, and push the boundaries of storytelling. "You can set it in any time period. You can tackle any matter. You can cast any people you want," Lyons notes, pointing out that few other genres offer this kind of creative freedom.

Despite its emotional and creative power, however, horror is often marginalized in the world of "high art." Lyons notes the tendency for horror films to be overlooked during awards season, even when they feature standout performances or innovative filmmaking. "I think it's interesting that those genres that deal foremost with the body—horror, comedy, erotic fiction—are pushed to the side because of that reason," she says, observing how the cultural gatekeepers of "high art" often privilege intellectualism over emotional engagement. For Lyons, this is a false dichotomy. Horror, she argues, is just as capable of offering profound insights into the human condition as any other genre—perhaps even more so, given its ability to tap into our most primal fears and desires.

Witchcraft and Horror: A Subversive Intersection

The intersection of witchcraft and horror is particularly fascinating, as both are often seen as subversive forces that challenge societal norms. Witches, especially in horror films, are frequently portrayed as dangerous, malevolent figures—symbols of chaos, destruction, and the unknown. But as Lyons points out, witchcraft is also a source of power, especially for those who have been marginalized or oppressed. "The witch, in this context, becomes a figure of resistance," Lyons says, someone who challenges the status quo and refuses to be controlled.

In horror films, witches are often depicted as ambiguous figures, neither wholly good nor wholly evil. This ambiguity, Lyons suggests, reflects the complexity of witchcraft itself, which cannot be neatly categorized or defined. "Witchcraft isn't a defined thing. It's ambiguous," she explains, and this ambiguity is part of what makes it so compelling, both in real life and in media. It defies easy categorization, existing in the liminal space between good and evil, power and fear, magic and reality.

In The Woods, Lyons explores these themes of ambiguity and power, using horror as a vehicle to delve into the psychological and emotional depths of trauma and the human condition. The film follows a group of characters as they confront both external dangers, past traumas and their own inner demons. By blending elements of folk horror with psychological thriller, Lyons creates a narrative that is as unsettling as it is thought-provoking, offering viewers a glimpse into the darker, more mysterious aspects of humanity.

Conclusion: Witchcraft, Horror, and the Media

Sarah Lyons' work as a writer and filmmaker challenges conventional portrayals of witchcraft and horror, offering a more nuanced and multifaceted exploration of these themes. Lyons' reflections on witchcraft, horror, and the media invite us to reconsider our assumptions about these subjects. Witchcraft, she argues, is not just a symbol of empowerment—it is a dynamic, evolving practice with deep historical roots and radical potential. And horror, far from being a lowbrow genre, offers a powerful space for confronting our deepest fears and desires. In both cases, Lyons sees the potential for transformation, liberation, and, perhaps, a little magic.

Written By Jai LePrince

Photography by Eva Tusquets

An Extraterrestrial Journey at Your Local Bodega w/ Filmmaker Jack Nicoletti

Jack Nicoletti, Writer/Director/Composer,

concludes his final semester at Pratt Institute with his most thrilling project yet. That Little Bodega Next to Lorenzo's follows three college kids trapped in an extraterrestrial bodega. Nicoletti builds excellent tension between the entrapment of these characters physically and within their relationships. With his discography consisting of majority comedies, this supernatural thriller is a beautiful addition, with its visuals and storytelling depth. The film has been nominated for three awards at the Brooklyn SciFi Film Festival: Best in Brooklyn, People's Choice Award, and Best Original Score.

 I had the opportunity to chat with Nicoletti and hear how his love for 1980s sci-fi/horror films inspired him as a filmmaker and how sometimes old-fashioned techniques are a better alternative in the modern age of technology. 

The film did a great job amplifying the sense of suffocation between being trapped in the bodega and the character's constant bickering. What was the process of writing the story and emphasizing this feeling?

I really wanted the characters to feel suffocated; the whole movie is about feeling trapped, whether in a relationship or in a scary, shape-shifting convenience store/ I was unsure how I was going to show it visually, especially since the entire film is in one location. It's tough to make that look fun, but I just coincidentally rewatched 12 Angry Men, which takes place in this little jury room. The film starts on a really wide lens, and then, as things heat up, the lenses get tighter and tighter and tighter. The characters are trapped in the frame as it closes around them, undoubtedly a big inspiration. 

The film was beautifully shot, and the neon lights perfectly captured this otherworldly prison in which the characters found themselves. What were some of your visual inspirations? What were some inspirational films behind this project?

Well, I've always been super partial to 80's movies; that's how I got into film. I saw Back To The Future when I was 7, and it blew my mind. From that point on, I knew what I wanted to do, so all my biggest influences were those high concept, sci-fi, and adventure movies of the 80s. I think light is really cool, especially when you can play with color, and it's an excellent way to add contrast not just with shadows but opposing colors basically on the characters the whole movie, and that's always been my style. 

With such a small budget, I was surprised to see visual effects. What was the process? 

Since the old school movies influenced me, my approach to effects is to try to do things as practical as possible. There were a few shots that you could have done in 1982, like repeating the soda can, basically just the same shot over and over again, but we got her hand out each time. Even when Max levitated halfway through the movie, he was lifting himself between the register in one of the shots, and we just had a close-up of his feet. I think you can do a lot with a little when it comes to visual effects.

I greatly admire film composers; music is just a language I could never speak but appreciate. Do you know what you'll have for music in pre-production, or does it evolve as the project progresses?

Both my parents are musicians, so I grew up around music. Whenever I'm writing, music is important. It always helps me stay in the world of whatever I'm writing. My Spotify is filled with playlists named after movies that keep me in the zone. 

I started hearing the score on the first page. Even the theme for the movie, I recorded before we shot because I knew where I wanted to go with it. It's just a tool that helps guide my mind into the style, and when I could listen to it instead, I could help guide the actors as well, so that is what we're going for here. 

What was the process of finding the locations to shoot? Did you shoot on a practical location or sound stage?

90% of the movie was filmed on Pratt's campus, a convenience store on the first floor of one of the dorms. And Pratt was nice about letting us go in when they were closed, which was most of the time. We had free range of the store, completely unsupervised for three days. We were able to get everything in for free which was great. 

What was the greatest challenge in making this film?  

I think, the most difficult part of making this film was the actual subject matter. My prior work has been straight horror or comedy, so to branch out and explore this idea of unhealthy relationships in a film was nerve-wracking because the most important part of the film was for me to get the point across. That being said, I think that’s also why this is the film I’m most proud of. When I first came to film school, everyone was making these dark dramas that all had things to say, and I was making workplace comedies and ghost movies. It wasn’t until recently that I discovered this fun, grand storytelling style wasn’t something to discount, but it’s my way in. It’s the best way to express my deeper ideas and emotions. So, the hardest part of the film, hands down, was making sure it landed and was dealt with respectfully, but the fact that I feel like it did is what makes this film one of the most fulfilling experiences of my creative career. 

That Little Bodega Next to Lorenzo’s, will premiere at the Brooklyn SciFi Film Festival’s Best in Brooklyn

screening block on this Wednesday October 16th at 7:00pm at Stuart Cinema & Cafe.

Written by Ashley Murphy

Would You take... The Substance?

You might want to skip the popcorn while watching this heavy ride. This film may be the treasure chest of the body horror genre. The most creative, rude, and disgusting awakening to the subject matter is the great body image. The Substance follows the Hollywood star, Elizabeth Sparkle, who has had a long and successful career in a workout aerobics style TV show. However, in the world of Hollywood, her time is ticking. She comes across this black market drug called "The Substance" that claims to give her the ability to develop another version of herself that is younger and beautiful but has to switch bodies every seven days. So, every other week, she is loved by many, and the other week, she is her same self, but this constant switch between the new and old body ends up being tragic for Elizabeth's well-being. If you are someone who is a bit squeamish and can't handle blood, to say the least, I think it will be best to skip this grotesque masterpiece. Demi Moore and Margaret Qualley explore the premise of body swapping, and both confront their insecurities and ultimately question the wild nature of beauty and perfection. 

The story of Elizabeth Sparkle is heartbreaking to see unfold. Elizabeth goes through this insane procedure to be this younger, better, ultimate version of herself in Sue. When she gets to live as Sue, she doesn't do anything different from what she did as Elizabeth. She returned to the same job, looking for a new Elizabeth, and now, Sue has replaced her. She did not realize that going down the same path would eventually lead to her being discarded once again. The success that people strive for in the industry was something Elizabeth already had. She had all the awards, all the accolades, all of the fans, but all of these things are superficial and never last. She might have succeeded in this dream, but she is lonely at the end of the day with no family or friends, just her luxury lifestyle that didn't bring her true joy. The film's commentary is genius in tackling new, fresh faces coming into the industry. This is what makes the story so heartbreaking, not just reflecting the film but also society as a whole. It repeats the same pattern without ever learning all to reach this superficial beauty standard that is extremely unhealthy.

Dennis Quaid plays this high-up television executive named Harvey. His character is extremely misogynistic and very on the nose. His portrayal is a caricature, but intentionally so, because the director, Coralie Fargeat, wants men in the industry to be uncomfortable and reflect on it. Earlier in the movie, there is a scene where Harbey is eating shrimp in a dirty and disgusting way. He looks at other women in the restaurant in the same revoluting way as he fires Elizabeth. All this while, Elizabeth is expected to take this behavior, sit very demurely, and keep herself adjusted. There is a way he treats Sue as a product, something he can control, not a person at all. These subtle things about the movie are very on the nose, but seeing this shoved into the audience's faces and reflecting on the expectations is satisfying. The zero sense of shame men have towards their gross behavior.      

Demi Moore and Margaret Qualley deliver raw and challenging performances with the intensity to live up to unattainable societal beauty standards. The film blends humor and drama as these characters reflect and lose their way on the pressure of appearance.

We have all heard the saying, "Your worst critic is yourself," this movie has made me find a newfound kindness toward myself. I left the film feeling nauseous, terror, despair, and emotional damage. The prime is simple, but the execution focuses on delivering the same message each time with a higher stake than the previous. The unusual angles and immersiveness make everything seem explicit and extremely uncomfortable, almost like this was in 4D. The makeup and effects are insane and surreal, complementing the soundtrack and sound design. It is too real and creates this chaotic atmosphere.  

Coralie Fargeat did not want the film to be subtle; she wanted it to be confrontational, and she translated it beautifully and gory. The film is extremely in your face and is a big middle finger to the Hollywood industry, and I am so glad to all who watch it feel deeply uncomfortable. I'm unsure what film can top this soon regarding the theater experience. I look forward to seeing what Fargeat has in store for future films; no matter how gross or nauseous I may feel, this is a first-watch experience I will never forget.  

Written by Daniel Rojas