"Which are you? A Canterbury Pilgrim or a Wicker Man? Or is it (gulp!) possible to be both?"

Pasolini is fabulous, like stepping into an oil painting and pig shit at the same time.

But the Wicker Man is a joy too, though arguably it worked better as a typical cheesy British horror quietly nestled alongside stuff like Blood on Satan's Claw and The White Worm before it became elevated as some kind of default cultural referent for contemporary alt.-folkie tweeness.

It's certainly possible to be a fan of both anyway.