Taboo histories of violence visited upon women still haunt Ireland, and director Aislinn Clarke reckons with the lingering intergenerational trauma of punitive religious morality and the forced imprisonment of non-conformist women in her chilling folk horror sophomore feature Fréwaka, which taps thematic terrain similar to her 2018 debut The Devil’s Doorway.
The title of the largely Irish-language production, which had its world premiere out of competition at the Locarno Film Festival, comes from the word “frealhacha,” meaning roots that are thick and entangled underground. It’s an evocative image for a feature that cracks along at a punchy pace on visceral scares aplenty, flashes of playful humour, and a delirious mish-mash of gruesome sights, but has a deeper intent to excavate a less than rosy collective past of memories that still form Irish identity and fuel the nation’s struggles with addiction and suicide.
Clare Monnelly balances flint and vulnerability in an intense turn as Siobhan (Shoo, for short), who is sent to a remote village as a live-in caregiver for Peig (Brid ni Neachtain), an elderly woman with a rebellious streak. The woman’s suspicion of visitors, fears of abduction by sinister folklorish entities, and reluctance to go outside have been deemed probable delusions, paranoia and agoraphobia by health services.
But an eerie and horrifying opening scene (a flashback to a brutal death in 1973), clues us in right from the outset that this is a world in which the worst fears can be realised, guided by a director with no qualms about thrusting us into very dark territory. Soon after Shoo arrives at the memorabilia-stuffed house (which the villagers consider a place to steer clear of at all costs), whispers, wails and visions charge the air with a dreadful otherworldliness. We grapple to determine whether these are supernatural, or the manifestations of an unsound mind.
There is an exuberant maximalism to the dark, over-the-top production design infused with folklore and religiosity. Rose-garlanded goats, neon crosses, talisman-rimmed doors and faceless costumes make the domestic strange at every turn. Clark, who is not afraid to milk the preposterous, cares less for nuanced credibility than for conveying a sense that there are no limits to what fear can conjure. It’s all buoyed by the wild energy and drumbeats of a soundtrack by Irish composer Die Hexen. Even in quieter moments, the persistent buzz of flies signals the trace of death, in a house where past and present bleed together, especially in the off-limits, unhinged basement. Old newspaper clippings are a little too conveniently on hand to offer up hints of backstory and revelations.
Rather than occupying the role of trusted investigator, Shoo shifts into being an unreliable interpreter of her surroundings, as she begins to doubt her own sanity, and takes on some of Peig’s obsessions and rituals. Tapping a horseshoe and throwing salt out of the window are forms of protection against the crafty visitors who may wish to take somebody away. As the two women forge a close bond of solidarity over their shared painful personal histories, recalling the terrors of Ireland’s Magdalen Laundries run by the Catholic Church to house “fallen women,” and family physical abuse. In fact, Shoo is still estranged from her mother, and is dependent on prescription medication.
A picture begins to emerge of birth and motherhood as frequent catalysts for injustice and psychological pain for women, rather than security. Shoo checks in long-distance, when the poor phone reception allows, with her Ukrainian fiancé Mila (Aleksandra Bystrzhitskaya), who is pregnant, and seems to offer a more hopeful possibility for family for Shoo, and of a more inclusive, diverse Ireland (they are both learning each others’ languages). But tensions between them are compounded as Shoo is pulled deeper into the parallel universe of the household, its secrets and demands — and toward a darkly hallucinatory and outlandish ending, which amps up the folk elements in an alarming costumed procession.
Director, screenwriter: Aislinn Clarke
Cast: Clare Monnelly, Brid Ni Neachtain, Aleksandra Bystrzhitskaya
Producers: Diarmuid Lavery, Patrick O’Neill
Cinematographer: Narayan Van Maele
Editing: John Murphy
Music: Die Hexen
Sound: Chris Woodcock
Production Design: Nicola Moroney
Production companies: DoubleBand Films, Wildcard Distribution
Sales: New Europe Film Sales
Venue: Locarno (Fuori Concorso)
In Irish, English
103 minutes
