The Witch is so wicked it could make Satan cry.

Macabre to the core, the horror film written and directed by Robert Eggers is a truly dark, stunningly crafted experience that'll have you seeking out a church as soon as you leave the theater. It's a movie possessed.

And that's what makes it so good.

The Witch follows a radically religious family living in exile in 1630 New England (already terrifying). Naturally, creepiness manifests immediately — and it's always mysteriously linked to Thomasin (Anya Taylor-Joy), the clan's eldest sister. She somehow loses her baby brother Samuel while playing peek-a-boo, igniting suspicion and misery in her family, particularly her intensely religious mother Katherine (played to perfection by Kate Dickie).

Everything is laced in paranoia. From the creepy woods (the woods are always creepy) to the black ram that "speaks" to the children to Thomasin's too-angelic-to-be-true persona, you don't know who to trust.

The Witch isn't about shocking jump scares. There are no predictable bumps in the night here. This is a movie made with the utmost restraint, unsettling horror sewn into its every breath. The pace is careful, even slow at times — but it's perfect for a period piece like this.

The camerawork is unflinching. There are times when you have to look away out of sheer fear of what could happen if a scene holds on a few seconds longer. Yes, the movie has tropes you've seen before — demon possession, witches, creepy animals, gobs of blood — but Eggers finds a way to make it feel fresh and unpredictable.

An impeccable group of actors also ups the creep factor. The film circles tightly around its core family, and each member holds up his or her end. Dickie, in particular, is harrowing as the consistently miserable mother, a perfect sister role to her turn as Lysa Arryn on Game of Thrones.

Harvey Scrimshaw, who plays preteen Caleb, is also shockingly good — and required to do so many inappropriate things that you might find yourself saying a little prayer for the actor's soul. There's one monologue that will completely wreck you, but we'll hold out on the details. Just know it's coming. And it's terrifying.

What really sets this movie apart from its horror peers, though, is its sheer beauty. Every scene is meticulously styled. The costumes have a quiet beauty. Every frame could be a painting, or a macabre Vogue editorial. The score (and scenes with lack thereof) is a perfect accompaniment, rattling and haunting.

If you're still on the fence about seeing the movie, consider this — the Satanic Temple recently dubbed it a "transformative Satanic experience." In fact, it's taking the film on a 4-city screening tour, followed by Satanic rituals.

So now the choice is really up to you.