Pedro Martín-Calero’s The Wailing, which had its Canadian premiere at Fantasia Festival, tells the story of three interconnected women who are all haunted by the same supernatural entity and an eerie wailing. In 2022 Madrid, young student Andrea (Ester Expósito, Venus) spends most of her time at university texting and video calling her boyfriend, Pau (Àlex Monner, [REC]³ Genesis), who lives in Sydney. When Pau notices a strange figure in the background of a video Andrea sent, it turns out to be a presence that can only be seen when filmed. No one believes Andrea when she witnesses the entity kill her loved one. With the help of her friends, she aims to uncover the strange events connected to her birth mother, which leads her to an abandoned apartment building—the source of a woman’s wailing.
The second part of the film jumps to queer-coded Camila (Malena Villa, El Angel) in 1998 La Plata. Cami is a film student, the only girl in her class, who is struggling to please her professor. When searching for the subject of her next short film, Cami notices a French woman called Marie (Mathilde Ollivier, Overlord), and goes full voyeur as she follows and records Marie without her knowledge. The two soon become aware of the strange entity that has attached itself to Marie. The third part of the film shifts its focus to Marie in an extension of the second. The mystery of how they’re all connected comes into sharp focus as the film draws to a close.
The Wailing is a highly atmospheric and spooky slow burn. Beautifully directed, Martín-Calero delivers a masterclass in building tension with his subtle yet intentional camerawork. His use of space helps to evoke fear through the felt sense of a presence, of being watched. With effective camerawork and eerie sound design, the tension, at times, becomes almost unbearable as we want for something awful to happen. Eventually, it does—but the film’s scares are mostly on the side of tension with your average few jumps. Despite the horror, there are lovely shots across the vastly different locations, with help from cinematographer Constanza Sandoval. The filmmaking is impressive, especially as Martín-Calero’s feature debut. He has previously directed ads for major brands, short films, and music videos for The Weeknd.
The weakest part of the film are its characters. Andrea is the most fleshed out. She has friends, parents, and a boyfriend. She is also struggling with discovering that she was adopted. But plenty is lacking. What is she studying at school? What are her friends’ names? I couldn’t say. Her friends don’t feel like real people with their own inner lives. Cami’s only personality traits are lying and stalking a woman she likely has a crush on. Marie is an important character yet lacks the most interiority. When Cami asks what she does, Marie says: “I don’t do anything.” And that is strongly felt. She really doesn’t do anything. Her father believes she suffers from the same mental disorder as her mother, but who is she as a person? Again, I couldn’t say. Martín-Calero’s primary focus was world-building, creating atmosphere… not developing his characters. The use of tech with Andrea’s chronic phone and laptop use compared to Cami’s camcorder is an interesting visual juxtaposition across generations.
The Wailing doesn’t spell everything out for you, it relies on the audience to have the intelligence to fill in some gaps. But it leaves you wanting more after its slow-paced storytelling comes to a sudden end. There is no explanation for who the entity is or where he came from—there is only the notion that he is drawn to women and their suffering, which is horrifying enough on its own. The story, co-written with Isabel Peña (The Beasts, The Candidate) and inspired by the writing of Mariana Enríquez, plays as an allegory for male violence against women; how they’re often not believed and how that trauma can be passed down through generations. The fact the entity can only be seen when filmed lends itself to the burden of proof in cases of physical and sexual violence. Despite its flaws, The Wailing is a chilling and timely Spanish horror that is worthy of your time.
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