I'm currently working on the idea that the earthy realism of Pasolini's Canterbury Tales stands in diametric opposition to pure kitsch of The Wicker Man. In TWM even the nudity is fake - as fake as the bogus paganism and the soppy reworkings of folk songs that just add to the overall atmosphere of fascistic fakelore. Pasolini's Canterbury Tales on the other hand is infused with the braw stench of sensual human filth and depravity with a raw soundtrack of real Traditional Song and Medieval Music to match. The nudity is real and yet in no way does serve to titilate; it's as honest and bawdy as anything you find in Traditional Song, which is the core here - this raw idiomatic idyll that lurks in the marginalia of Broadsides and Manuscript and Misericord and is integral to an essential cultural dreaming that somehow was missed entirely by the prudish revival, with significant exceptions of course....   Which are you? A Canterbury Pilgrim or a Wicker Man? Or is it (gulp!) possible to be both?