Case in point: this. Apparently there is a touring sing-a-long version of Robin Hardy's 1973 classic making its way around England. Kind of like Sing-a-Long Mamma Mia! has been a recurring staple in some U.S. cities -- except, you know, with The Wicker Man. "Maypole." "Summer is Icumen In." Britt Ekland getting naked and humping the wall. That sort of thing.
If the title of the post didn't make it clear, this is the greatest thing ever. The author of the Guardian piece disagrees on the grounds that "there's... a genuine note of eerie menace at the heart of Hardy's movie" -- which is undeniably true -- and that this "sits... just a little oddly with the idea of the film as knockabout hammery" -- sort of true, but also irrelevant (also: "hammery"?). First: The Wicker Man's kitsch and creepiness are inextricably intertwined. The "eerie menace" Danny Leigh mentions is there precisely because of the disconnect between the subject matter (murderous cult) and its treatment (scores of merry revelers sing catchy folk ditties in gorgeous harmony while performing elaborate choreographed routines). Audience participation would only add to this.
It would also be exceedingly appropriate, thematically. This is a movie about a cult. What could make more sense than having the audience sing along? To quote another eerie movie, one of us! One of us! One of us! I get chills just thinking about it.
If you're in or near Brixton, check out Sing-a-Long-a-Wicker-Man on Friday. If you're in the US, pester your local repertory theater. We damn well deserve our own romp around the Maypole. "In the woods there grew a tree," and all that jazz.