There are documentaries that celebrate a film, and then there is Children of the Wicker Man, which quietly dismantles one while trying to understand the man behind it. Justin and Dominic Hardy do not approach their father’s legacy with the usual reverence reserved for cult classics. Instead, they dig through it, sit with it, and at times push back against it. What unfolds is something far more intimate than a behind the scenes story. It is a reckoning.
Speaking with the brothers, what immediately stands out is how unexpectedly this entire journey began. Justin describes receiving word during COVID that six sacks of material tied to his late father had been sitting untouched in an attic. His initial reaction was not curiosity or excitement, but dismissal, even joking that they could be thrown on a bonfire. It was only after some prodding from academic friends who stressed that both Robin Hardy and The Wicker Man actually mattered in a larger cultural sense that he reconsidered. At that point, he reached out to Dominic, and everything changed.
For Dominic, the pull was immediate, not just because of the subject matter but because of the opportunity to explore it alongside his brother. He talks about both of them as historians at heart, people who respect source material and context, suddenly being handed something they never even knew existed. That unknown archive became a kind of catalyst, opening a door they had not been expecting to walk through. Working together felt natural, even inevitable, and as Dominic puts it, the chance to learn about filmmaking from the inside while also reconnecting with family history was simply too good to pass up.
But what starts as an investigation into their father quickly becomes something else. Justin admits that, initially, the focus was entirely on understanding Robin Hardy. The idea was to figure him out, not themselves. That shift happened later, almost accidentally, in the edit. It was their editor who pointed out that the emotional core of the film was not just the father, but the present day relationship between the two brothers. Justin reflects on how much of their dynamic was revealed in the spaces between words, in what went unsaid, and how the film gradually transformed into something more personal than they had ever planned.
That personal angle is what gives Children of the Wicker Man its power. It is not just about a chaotic production or a cult classic that struggled on release before finding its audience. It is about absence, memory, and the way creative obsession can ripple through a family. Growing up, they did not have a conventional childhood filled with photo albums and shared memories neatly stored away. As Justin puts it, their experience was fractured, with pieces scattered across different lives and places. That lack of a central history forced them to rebuild it from fragments.
Dominic even began sketching moments that had no visual record, adding another layer to the film’s texture. Those drawings are not just stylistic choices, they are acts of reconstruction, a way of filling in the blanks where memory alone is not enough. It gives the documentary that scrapbook quality, something intentionally rough but emotionally precise.
What makes their perspective especially compelling is how it reframes The Wicker Man itself. Justin comes at it from a place of distance and even frustration, admitting that, as a television director, he once looked at the film as technically odd, even flawed. He describes its flat lighting, unconventional casting, and strange pacing in a way that almost demystifies it. But then that perspective shifts. Through the process of making the documentary, he begins to see those same elements not as weaknesses but as part of what makes the film unique. It is not a failure of form, but a different way of thinking about storytelling.
Dominic had a different relationship with the film, one that was shaped by proximity but also distance. He remembers being around during its creation, even joking about delivering whiskey to his father and Anthony Shaffer while they hammered out the story. Yet for years, he kept the film at arm’s length, never fully engaging with it. It was only through this process that he let it “come and find” him, discovering new layers and meanings he could not have understood as a child.
That push and pull between admiration and resentment defines much of the conversation around their father. Justin is candid about the conflict he had with him, especially in relation to how he treated his family during and after the making of The Wicker Man. At times, he admits, there was no sense of balance at all, just a series of difficult truths. But the film avoids becoming an outright condemnation. Instead, it finds its equilibrium through the dynamic between the brothers themselves.
Justin openly credits Dominic with providing that balance, describing moments where emotions boiled over and Dominic simply listened, grounding the process. Dominic, in turn, frames that imbalance as something necessary, even valuable, calling it asymmetrical in a way that gives the film energy and movement. It is not about presenting a neat, objective portrait, but about allowing different perspectives to exist side by side.
That honesty is what ultimately makes Children of the Wicker Man so relatable. It does not offer easy answers or clean resolutions. Instead, it captures the messiness of trying to understand someone who is both larger than life and deeply flawed. It also captures something more hopeful. Through the process, the brothers not only come to terms with their father’s legacy, but deepen their own relationship. Dominic describes it as painful at times, but also incredibly rewarding, noting that it brought them to a place of stronger mutual respect and understanding.
Talking with them, there is a clear sense that this project has been transformative, not just creatively but personally. It is also clear that they are not done. Justin hints at a follow-up project, tentatively titled Wickermania, which will explore why the film continues to endure and resonate. If Children of the Wicker Man is about looking inward, that next step feels like looking outward.
For now, though, what they have created is something rare. A documentary that uses a beloved film as a starting point, but ends up somewhere much more human. And having spent time with Justin and Dominic, it is easy to see why it works. The conversation was open, reflective, and at times surprisingly funny despite the weight of the subject matter. It felt less like a formal interview and more like sitting in on two brothers figuring something out in real time.
Honestly, it is one of the better documentaries I have seen in a long time. Not just because of what it reveals about The Wicker Man, but because of what it reveals about the people left in its wake.
Jessie Hobson