‘Fréwaka’ Review: A Rattling Irish Horror Film Satisfyingly Blends Folk Traditions With Genre Tropes

As a long-time horror enthusiast with a soft spot for films steeped in local folklore and historical context, I found “Fréwaka” to be an enthralling addition to the genre. The film’s Irish roots, much like the tangled roots of its title, dig deep into the nation’s complex past, drawing on the lingering guilt over the Magdalene laundries and weaving it into a chilling narrative that’s as unsettling as it is thought-provoking.

J.R.R. Tolkien is known for stating that “cellar door” is the most beautiful phrase in English literature. Yet, when watching “Fréwaka,” an old-style horror movie featuring a foreboding cellar door adorned with an ill-omened rusty horseshoe, it’s unlikely you’ll find it as endearing. In this film, that ominous door serves as a gateway to a host of unpleasant entities. Similar to her first movie, “The Devil’s Doorway,” Aislinn Clarke’s second feature shares a title that reflects its content. Both films have garnered attention (including a distribution deal with IFC Midnight) by employing conventional horror tropes tailored to resonate with local themes. While “Fréwaka” may not offer anything groundbreaking, it still manages to send a shiver down your spine.

Similar to its earlier work, this film appears to be a straightforward horror flick, ideal for genre-specific screenings and digital platforms, yet it hides a deeper, more ominous theme. Movies such as “Relic” and “Midsommar” seem to have influenced its creation, giving it an arthouse vibe, as evidenced by its out-of-competition showing at Locarno. The stylistically cohesive combination of Clarke’s debut and this subsequent work could potentially lead to higher-budget horror projects for the filmmaker in the future. However, what truly makes “Fréwaka” stand out is its mythical and politically charged Irish backdrop, which draws upon lingering national remorse over the Magdalene laundries’ injustices, and transforms traditional folklore into unsettling horror elements.

The title, originally “Fréamhacha” (meaning ‘roots’), is compacted and translates to ‘roots’. This concept isn’t particularly appealing to our tough-minded main character Siobhan, or Shoo as she prefers to be called. There seems to be a chilling absence of warmth concerning the past, starting with a mysterious, enigmatic prologue set in 1973, where a rural wedding is disrupted by hoodlums wearing ominous, ancient-looking straw masks. This is followed by faded newspaper articles that ponder the bride’s vanishing act. At first, it’s unclear how this mystery ties into the present, as we shift to the suicide of an elderly woman in a Dublin apartment filled with garish Catholic memorabilia.

Shoo, the daughter of the deceased woman, comes to tidy up the place with an unfazed calmness that leaves her pregnant Ukrainian fiancée Mila (played by Aleksandra Bystrzhitskaya) feeling shocked. Up until now, Mila has been shielded from stories about Shoo’s mother’s mistreatment, which puts her in the same league as Margaret White from “Carrie.” A practical woman embarking on a career as a caregiver, Shoo prefers to keep her emotions hidden and keep things running smoothly. When she gets unexpectedly assigned at the last minute to take care of Peig (Bríd Ní Neachtain), a fragile elderly woman living in an isolated northern village, she readily accepts the job, leaving Mila stranded.

Initially, her rash actions seem unwise when she visits Peig’s dilapidated, spooky country home, a place where locals caution rather than guide. Upon arrival, she realizes she’s in over her head. The house, filled with poor taxidermy and eerie trinkets, is already unsettling, but the strange noises and ghostly sensations coming from behind the cellar door make it downright unwelcoming. This cellar door, which Peig views as a dangerous spiritual boundary, adds to the house’s chilling atmosphere. Despite her dementia and reluctance to take her medication, Peig occasionally experiences lucid moments, and she and Shoo develop a tense relationship, softened by their heartfelt performances, that offers the film a comforting emotional depth.

In the horror film “Fréwaka,” several frightening elements draw on classic occult themes or, for some viewers, represent genuine Satanic menace – such as the recurring ominous goat (perhaps a kin to Black Phillip from “The Witch”), which appears during the most unsettling scenes. To some, these instances might seem like mere superstition. However, just as there are grounded fears woven into Peig’s growing terror, the screenplay skillfully intertwines supernatural unease with the very real trauma and apprehension endured by women like Shoo and, eventually, Peig – victims of Catholic Church oppression. In this light, pinpointing the exact cause of mysterious noises becomes less important: If it’s all a mental construct, then so is the essence of the story.

Regardless, the movie titled “Fréwaka” is skillfully crafted to evoke a sense of eerie atmosphere, portraying closed rural communities devoid of typical Emerald Isle clichés. Production designer Nicola Moroney layers on spooky imagery, yet uncovers equal amounts of danger and enigma within mundane domestic life. The cinematography by Narayan Van Maele creates a chilling, confined feeling even in bright daylight scenes, while an inventive score by avant-garde musician Die Hexen, featuring plenty of rhythmic percussion, keeps viewers on edge. Both Van Maele and Die Hexen were also key contributors to the success of Kate Dolan’s “You Are Not My Mother,” another powerful, gritty horror film rich in Irish women’s history – a subgenre that seems like an ongoing exploration of society.

2024-08-13 20:17

‘Fréwaka’ Review: A Rattling Irish Horror Film Satisfyingly Blends Folk Traditions With Genre Tropes

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