The Wicker Man comes to Blu-ray with a much-hyped 'final cut' approved by director Robin Hardy after a much-publicised search for the legendary missing footage, supposedly used as landfill after British Lion severely cut the original movie. Word that a print had been found was greeted with joy by fans until it became clear that this was in fact a 35mm print of the US version released at the end of the 1970s – longer than the British theatrical print, certainly, but considerably shorter than the 'director's cut' already available on DVD. The suggestion that this is the 'original cut' are misleading, as anyone who knows the history of the film could tell you.

This new 'final cut' is based on the Abraxas release, approved by director Robin Hardy, that played in the US at the end of the 1970s, and later formed the basis for the extended BBC Moviedrome version. This was, at the time, seen as something of a compromised edition, lacking the additional missing footage that would eventually be inserted into the 'director’s cut' that is now familiar from previous DVD editions. If you were glad to see the film finally restored to something like the version that was originally put together by Hardy in 1973, then this new cut will seem a step backwards. It's not much longer than the original UK theatrical version, although it does at least restore the idea of events taking place over three days and not two. Gone are the scenes in the police station at the start of the film and the admittedly superfluous encounter with the local doctor; also removed are the various trims and scene extensions that were in the director’s cut. The opening caption thanking Lord Summerisle and the locals for their help has also been pointlessly deleted. This version does, however, retain the opening scenes of Howie preaching in church, establishing his religious fervour.

Most odd in this new edition is a sudden cut during the first verse of Willow's Song. This is jarring, clumsy and entirely unnecessary – if Hardy really thought the film would be improved by chopping around fifteen seconds out of the middle of a song with all the finesse of someone hitting 'pause' on a tape recording of the Top 40 to cut out the DJ chatter, you really have to question his judgement (if The Wicker Tree hadn't already made you do that!). The song is notably complete in the Director's Cut.

The discovery of the Abraxas print does allow for better quality inserts than in the director’s cut, which used video-sourced material – but they sometimes quite clearly still are inserts into the mostly pristine edition. There is still a notable picture quality difference at times, especially in the 'snail' sequence - possibly because this scene was still missing in the Abraxas version.

So inevitably, this new edition of the film that has been exciting people (mainly because of the rather misleading suggestion that new footage had finally been unearthed) proves to be a disappointment, being little more than the previous director's cut with most of the added footage once again removed. Unless you really thought that the 104 minuted version was unnecessarily bloated and wanted to see the British Lion logo replaced with black and white text, then it's hard to see that you'll be particularly excited by this version. Given that the whole legend of The Wicker Man has for decades been based around the version we've still not seen – the near-mythical lost footage beloved of Christopher Lee (one can only imagine his reaction to this 'final cut') – making the film shorter seems a step backwards.

Of course, the hair-splitting and misdirection involved in this new edition should not distract from the fact that The Wicker Man is a masterpiece (and is so in all versions). Possibly the finest British horror film - possibly the finest British film full stop, come to think of it – it's a movie that manages to remain as fresh now as when it was first shot, thanks to the fact that it seemed oddly out of time in 1973 – while a contemporary story, there is little here to date it, given that Summerisle is such an isolated, insular and out-of-time community. And while perhaps slow-paced by modern standards, the film still manages to be an intriguing puzzle of a story and one of the few mysteries with a final twist that continues to work on multiple viewings, simply because each time you see it, you are now looking for the clues, taking pleasure in being one step ahead of Sergeant Howie (Edward Woodward), the Christian copper lured to the island by an anonymous letter alerting him to a missing child. In fact, subsequent viewings of the film have the viewer experiencing events not through the eyes of Howie (as is the case on first viewing) but instead as one of the islanders, making us complicit in the conspiracy at the heart of the film. On arrival, Howie finds the islanders at first denying the existence of the child, and then – when confronted with evidence – admitting that she has died. Suspecting foul play, Howie sets out to find the truth.

But this is no ordinary murder mystery. At the heart of Howie's concerns is the fact that the island has reverted to pagan beliefs, worshipping the old gods – something introduced in a contrived manner by a previous Lord of the island, and now embraced universally, even by the current Lord Summerisle (Christopher Lee) – though he is only too aware of the cynical reasons for his grandfather's reintroduction of pagan beliefs to the island and we are never entirely sure just how much he genuinely believes.

This is, of course, a source of outrage to Howie, who is no believer in a multi-faith society. Everywhere he looks, there is evidence of heathen activity – public sex acts, belief in magic, bawdy folk songs, wanton behaviour and the rejection of Christianity (the former churchyard how overgrown and abandoned). His reaction to this is extreme and confrontational, and it's this that begins to suggest that he is far from the hero we might expect – in a happy community that is united by their religion, Howie seems (especially today) like the bigot and the intruder. His determination to find the missing Rowan Morrison seems as much motivated by religious hatred as it is the desire to save her. It's unsurprising that for many viewers, he's the villain of the piece and the ending of the film is seen as a happy one. Full credit must go to Edward Woodward, giving the performance of a lifetime, who makes his character stiff and unsympathetic yet still keeps us gripped by his investigation. Lee too is excellent, playing for the most part against type – he might still be playing the sort of part you'd expect (after all, in Hammer films he's usually the 'evil' figure in conflict with Christian heroes) but his character here is personable, friendly, humorous and open – the exact opposite to Howie. It's hard to see someone like that as the bad guy.

The film has a pretty flawless supporting cast, too. Britt Ekland is dubbed throughout (by Annie Ross for dialogue and Lesley Mackie for her song), but is flirtatiously sexy (her nude dance remains one of the most erotic moments in horror cinema) and Ingrid Pitt is rather wasted in a small role (that still finds room for a nude appearance), but everyone feels authentic and everyone plays their part perfectly (apart from the one fisherman at the start – clearly not an actor and barely able to avoid grinning!).

While you can probably tie The Wicker Man loosely into a group of pagan and witchcraft themed British horror films of the period – Witchfinder General, Blood on Satan's Claw, Cry of the Banshee and so on – there really is no other film quite like this. It only barely qualifies as a horror film at all in fact, Anthony Shaffer's multi-levelled and deceptively complex story being instead a genre mash-up of detective thriller, whodunnit, rural drama, erotica and even musical. In terms of the latter, it's hard to over-emphasise the importance and brilliance of the score, the collection of songs that propel the drama, emphasise the earthy sexuality and enhance the mysterious, unsettling atmosphere being a perfect accompaniment to the movie, which would certainly by nowhere near as impressive without them. Paul Giovanni's music has the feel of traditional folk music, which was of course often bawdy and heathen, but also mixes the old and the modern traditions. Although it now feels timeless, it actually fits in very well with the folk rock experimentation of the time from bands like Fairport Convention and Steeleye Span, who mixed rock with traditional folk tunes. The original soundtrack is included in the multi-disc box set release (but unfortunately not on the DVD review copy I have, so I can't comment on its presentation or indeed the quality of the HD restoration).

The film also plays on what would still be current fears in the early Seventies, that of the insular religious cult with a charismatic leader who believe that murder is a justified means to an end. With the Manson Family killings still fresh in people's minds, it's easy to see how viewers might be reminded of the case when watching this film. It'd be nice to think that such real life fears were a thing of the past, but with Al Quaida inspired groups slaughtering in the name of religion even now, The Wicker Man seems more timely than ever.

This new multi-disc edition (3 discs on the Blu-ray, four on the DVD) comes with a mixed bag of extras. Sadly missing is the definitive Anchor Bay / David Gregory documentary The Wicker man Enigma, instead replaced by TV knock-off Burnt Offering: The Cult of the Wicker Man, a somewhat inferior choice unless you relish the insight of Mark Kermode. There are new featurettes – an interview with Hardy, a pretty good look at the music and a pretty pointless affair with Eli Roth, Ben Wheatley, James Watkins and various critics discussing the film for no good reason. The commentary track with Lee, Woodward and Hardy (and Kermode...) from earlier releases is here, thank goodness, as is the 1979 US cable TV interview with Lee and Hardy. Most significantly for completists, all three cuts of the movie are here, so whichever one floats your particular boat, you will be happy.

The Wicker Man remains an iconic movie and an essential masterpiece. If for some reason you don't already own the movie, this is a must-have release. If you do already have the film, I can't honestly say the 'final cut' alone is worth the cost of an upgrade, but the chance to see whichever version you prefer in HD should probably be the tipping point for the undecided.

DAVID FLINT

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