Slice of Strife: The Wailing (2025) Review

Director: Pedro Martín Calero

Notable Cast: Ester Expósito, Mathilde Ollivier, Malena Villa, Claudia Roset, José Luis Ferrer, Lia Lois, Sonia Almarcha, Tomás del Estal, Lautaro Bettoni, Alex Monner

 

The entire arthouse horror aspect of pairing "haunting" and "trauma" has now become a staple of the genre, but The Wailing approaches it in a fascinating way. The film essentially tells its tale through three women through two different time frames. It's a slow-burn narrative that focuses on how this haunting builds from the mundane to the manic, and on not being up front with its terrors, but seeding them under the skin and in the folds of the brain. Sure, it’s the kind of horror film that seems fairly par-for-the-course now in a post-A24 era, but don’t sell The Wailling short - it has a voice, and it's executed impressively. 

 

The Wailing is a film that might be compared to other haunting/trauma films, like the socio-hauntings of It Follows or the technological horrors of The Ring, but it wholly wants to present itself as a slice-of-life film. It just happens to feature various characters who are terrorized by an unseen horror that creeps up through an outside lens (in this case, the camera), thereby highlighting the technological aspect that was so prevalent in late 90s and early 00s J-horror. However, the film certainly takes its time with each of its characters as they go about their lives, and with how each one eventually succumbs to the horror of this ‘curse’ passed down to them. The process of getting there may be fairly mundane to some, with its incredibly meticulous pacing and seemingly meandering character beats, but it all fits with the complexity of its themes and the humanity that is tragically lost as the horror grows closer. 

 

The incredible performances are the heart and soul of this one, and director Pedro Martín Calero knows how to place them up front and center, allowing the brutality of its themes of generational trauma to go mostly unexplained while it focuses on the victims of the trauma rather than the perpetrator. It's a bold maneuver that invites viewers to live in these women's lives, then pushes them back when the narrative gets too close to offering definitive answers. Ester Expósito kicks off the film as the student Andrea, who essentially uncovers this haunting through modern-day social media and the influence of pictures and videos as staples of life, and she sets the standard for the rest of the film. She is the one who starts to look into the lineage of this haunting, and it introduces viewers to a second timeline in the past, with Mathilde Ollivier as Marie and Malena Villa as Camila. 

 

The narrative continues, delving into the lives of these two women as they also uncover the haunting that was passed on to Andrea in the opening. While the second act of the film is perhaps the most trying, with its pace and slice-of-life style, it’s also the one that features a strangely meta narrative, giving The Wailing a unique secondary layer. As it turns out, Mathilde is in a college film course and carries her camera everywhere. She is also making a slice-of-life film, following Camila, whom she has only seen on the street and has become smitten with, and it's through her own semi-voyeuristic endeavors that she discovers a shadowy old man figure attached to her subject. Suddenly, the film has unique layers about outside influence or how others can see things that perhaps we cannot. It intertwines with themes of generational trauma and using the tools around you to address it, and it creates a paradox where a character in the film is essentially making the part of the movie we, as an audience, are watching. It’s a fascinating choice and one that feels justified in how it asks a lot of questions, but doesn’t necessarily feel the need to answer them. 

 

The film doubles down on its slice-of-life element in almost every choice it makes. Visually, director Pedro Martín Calero and cinematographer Constanza Sandoval avoid any real stylistic choices. This film takes place in the ‘real world’ and it's shot as such. Even the score of the film, which is mostly crafted of droning instruments and vocal cries and wails (a strange echoing effect that is replicated when characters in the film can occasionally hear a woman’s cries in headphones they are wearing), also feels subdued to the point that it bleeds together more with the thematic weight than the traditional pulsating score a horror film might have to create tension. If anything, just like the rest of the film, the visuals and sound design are meant to get under your skin more than outright pop. 

 

For a supernatural-haunting film, this one probably hits a little too close to real-life trauma, as the characters (and thus the audience) are left in the dark about how and why the event happened to others. Still, so many of its choices are effective and bold - despite some pacing issues - and its ending is certainly going to leave its audience divided. And while its final shot is definitely one that left a hard imprint on me, it’s guaranteed to either work for its audience fully, or not at all. Be warned. 

 

The Wailing is certainly not for everyone, but like its titular score provided by droning sounds, cries, and the wails of unseen pain, it tended to echo in my head long after the credits rolled. Leaving me feeling the residue of its hauntedness. No, it’s not the scariest horror movie, nor is it the most stylish, but its intentions of getting under the skin and actually developing a film that resonates with its message are impressive. And it's one that arthouse horror fans will want to seek out.

Written By Matt Malpica Reifschneider