Fréwaka
A nurse is drawn into a reclusive woman’s haunted manor, where paranoia, superstition, and rituals take hold. This Irish folk horror nightmare grips tightly — right up to the cellar door waiting at the end of the hallway.
Bad omens can be roughly divided into two categories: subtle hints, and signals that ring out like Gabriel’s horn on Judgement Day and should alert even the most unshakable nonbeliever. But of course, sometimes, and at an above average frequency in horror movies, along comes an individual who is deaf to the brass solo, and needs to have better judgement beaten into them with a door knob.
In her second full-length feature film, director Aislinn Clarke sets fire to the whole book of omens. Goats, masked figures in robes, two hundred and eighteen salt shakers and even a glow-in-the-dark Virgin Mary all make appearances in this Irish nightmare. Catholic child rearing methods mix with folklore like tomato juice and vodka and go down just as easily.
The ungrateful task of connecting the dots between omens falls to home care worker Shoo, who already has her hands full with her own trauma as well as her engagement, which is soon to be blessed with a little bundle of joy. Her charge is an ailing hermit lady who welcomes her with about as much goodwill as a celery stick jutting out of a cocktail glass.
The women find themselves connected by mutual suspicion, humour, and a really damn creepy cellar door. All these elements combine into a rabbit hole even a claustrophobe might enjoy, and create tension not even daylight will alleviate.
Minna Saarinen (translated by Adrian Murtomäki)
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