Fréwaka

ath of her own mother, and soon discovers a house organised around keeping something out. Iron objects guard doors and windows. A red door sits at the end of a corridor looking wonderfully wrong. Peig refuses contact with the village. These are good, specific pieces of horror storytelling because they make us ask the right question: what does Peig know? Unfortunately, *Fréwaka* spends much of its running time declining to answer even the questions that would make its uncertainty interesting. There is a difference between making us work and making us repeatedly check whether we have understood the basic sequence of events. The wedding, the missing bride, the child, Peig’s history, Shoo’s mother and the unfinished bargain with the sídhe eventually begin connecting, but the connections often arrive as delayed explanation rather than discovery. We like a film that hands us pieces of a puzzle. This sometimes feels as though somebody has hidden half the pieces and then, near the end, reads the picture on the box aloud. Which is frustrating because individual moments genuinely work. A corpse at a wake suddenly grabbing Shoo’s hand is splendidly horrible. The increasingly strange villagers create real unease. The final procession, with its rough folkloric costumes and obscured faces, turns the community into something older and less human. Even Peig’s apparently cruel behaviour gains an intriguing second possibility once protection, rather than simple abuse, enters the equation. There is a rich film buried here about mothers, daughters, pregnancy, Catholic guilt and obligations passed down through generations. *Fréwaka* can be creepy, peculiar and unmistakably folk horror. We just wish it trusted its strongest ideas enough to let us follow their roots. --- Reviewed by FolknHell, the folk horror film podcast · folknhell com Hear the full FolknHell podcast discussion of Fréwaka: folknhell com/frewaka-review along with our other reviews, transcripts and episodes.