The Wailing

Producing something that comes from fragments of other cinematic creations is not always so easy. Often ideas, strategies and even narrative clichés borrowed from other films may be present, but the result may be poor and forgettable. So knowing how to bring together and assemble fragments of the genre's history is important to avoid the obvious and yet another film that will go unnoticed both in theaters and on streaming services.

Spanish director Pedro Martín-Calero seems to have been inspired by some films of the genre to direct The Cry of Evil (El Llanto, 2024). Examples: By bringing something that insistently pursues the characters, we can remember the tension that was the excellent It Follows (2014). Andrea and Camila's constant filming during the narrative refers to the Found Footage culture (we know very well what it is like to be apprehensive that something will appear on the screen before our eyes).

The film tells the story of three women: Andrea (Ester Expósito), Camila (Malena Villa) and Marie (Mathilde Olivier). Divided into three acts, the film explores the lives of these characters when they are faced with an evil entity that is chasing them.

Let's say that Pedro works with several themes in his production, but he doesn't use them as a driving force for the narrative to move forward. Seclusion, machismo, isolation, and the separation of families are all mixed together in many scenes that, more than just scare us, serve to warn us about some evils that also scare us in society.

The modestly produced film has a touch of amateurism, perhaps even on purpose. But it manages to contribute to intensifying the retro, dark and desolate atmosphere of the story, as in Camila's passage that takes place in 1978.

One of the secrets here was to include resources that create tension in the viewer, such as the entrance to a dark and abandoned building that echoes people's cries or even Camilla's camera that insists on being out of focus in some shots. The director opts for external and internal settings that generally cause discomfort, often due to the lack of lighting, or sometimes due to the feeling of claustrophobia that it conveys.

Although the act involving Andrea is the most impactful, Pedro weaves the three acts together well, creating a correct and believable sequence for a stunning ending that culminates in a film that has an open ending, perhaps setting the stage for a sequel.

The Wailing is a film that manages to unsettle without relying on grand theatrics. Its dense atmosphere and the way it blends supernatural horror with a deeply human story make it stand out in the landscape of Spanish cinema. It reminded me, in part, of The Entity, but here the focus shifts: instead of a mother, the protagonists are young women facing their own fears and traumas.

What captivated me the most is Martín-Calero's direction. Every shot is designed to create discomfort and tension, but without going overboard. The use of light, sounds, and silences plays a crucial role in maintaining that constant sense of unease. The lead actresses also shine, displaying a vulnerability that feels very real. They aren't flat or stereotypical characters; there's something in their eyes and gestures that makes you empathize with them.

Despite its strengths, the film isn't without its ups and downs. At times, the narrative seems to lose its way, as if trying to tackle more than it can handle, leaving certain aspects underdeveloped. This can create the feeling that some pieces don't quite fit, weakening the main storyline.

Even so, The Wailing leaves an impact. It's not just a simple supernatural horror tale; it's a film that speaks about pain and violence in a way that lingers. Beyond the scares, what truly stays with you is the discomfort of its underlying message, inviting reflection long after the credits have rolled.

El Llanto, a Spanish-Argentine film directed by Pedro Martín-Calero, is a work that manages to fascinate and frustrate at the same time. With an extremely intriguing premise and a sophisticated visual proposal, the film delivers a permanently oppressive, suffocating and disturbing atmosphere, where the discomfort grows with each scene. It is a psychological horror film that relies much more on latent tension than on conventional scares.

The construction of the setting is impeccable: dark scenes, intelligent use of cameras, screens, reflections and, above all, a sound design that masterfully incorporates the most striking element of the film - the constant, distressing and almost hypnotic crying that invades every space and every silence.

However, despite all this aesthetic and sensory strength, the development of the script proves to be far below what is necessary. The story simply does not explain itself. The connections between the characters and the events are poorly tied up, leaving holes, loose ends and a constant feeling that something is missing. The film builds up a huge expectation, but fails to deliver answers that are up to par, which directly compromises the viewer's emotional and rational connection.

The performances are competent, the tense atmosphere keeps the audience alert until the end, but the fragility of the narrative development undermines part of the experience. In the end, *El Llanto* is a film that haunts more for its atmosphere and the anguish it provokes than for the story it tells. And perhaps that is precisely where its greatest virtue and its greatest flaw lie.

A work that starts from an excellent premise, with an alarming atmosphere, suffocating tension and impeccable aesthetics, but which seriously fails due to the lack of narrative development, the absence of minimal explanations and for failing to transform its great idea into a truly complete experience. Even so, it captivates - and very much so - due to the constant uneasiness it provokes.

⭐ Rating: 6.5/10. How is that no possible: 7.0.

It could easily be 8/10 with a better-crafted script and a minimally satisfactory conclusion.

The first and immediately successful feature film by Pedro Martín-Calero, who serves as the Director, Producer, and Screenwriter.

I should start by saying I hadn't heard or seen anything about this project, but for some reason, it immediately caught my attention. Perhaps it's all about the film's poster. Be that as it may, if you want to first get acquainted with what you're about to watch, I'd recommend only the text description. Photos and videos will contain many spoilers. Not to mention the trailer itself-it's one big spoiler. I only watched it before writing this text. It's good and conveys the atmosphere and mood of the film, but after watching it, the impression will definitely be spoiled, and you won't get those same emotions and experiences. And in this film, that's the main thing-unexpectedness, anxiety, and insane beauty.

The film is divided into 3 parts/stories. In each, the main role is played by a new girl.

Each story takes place in different time periods; to be precise, they are non-linear.

At first glance, they seem unrelated except for a shared sense of fear. Moreover, each part feels like a separate, self-contained short film. With its own style, imagery, and approach. To some extent, they resemble scary bedtime stories. Some are short and immediately frightening, while others stretch out and build tension throughout the entire narrative.

In the end, by the film's conclusion, everything will come together into a single, understandable puzzle, but unfortunately, without any answers to the questions that arose.

What's most disappointing isn't even the lack of answers, but the lack of an answer to the main question. Perhaps this is a setup for future installments where there will be more details and information. On the other hand, I have a theory that an answer isn't even needed. Much in our world exists without answers, and sometimes we simply cannot get an answer to a question for one reason or another.

So why are answers not as important as they seem?

The film so captivates your attention that I only realized by the end that there were no answers, but it didn't particularly upset me. Throughout the entire film, there was a feeling of lightness coupled with tension. An unusual mix of feelings that, surprisingly, you rarely experience watching a horror film. Especially one of this style.

Thanks to the three main heroines and their stories, there's no feeling of boredom or being drawn-out. Everything happens quickly and to the point. Without any "filler."

I also liked the acting. And not just the main roles.

Among the main characters, I particularly liked Malena Villa, who played the character Camila in the second of the three parts. She has a beautiful and vivid image, just like her colorful story in every sense.

An interesting observation.

The character Camila is studying film studies. In class, they are assigned to write scripts and shoot the material themselves. The story itself isn't that important, but I wanted to emphasize her profession. Because it's precisely in her story that the visuals become maximally cinematic and, in a way, even aesthetic.

We, the viewers, like Camila, have to observe and experience terrifying situations together. After all, like Camila, we observe many moments through the same lens. We have the same questions, but the scariest thing is that we already know the answers and can only be witnesses to everything happening.

This part has such vivid imagery, colors, scenes, and shots that at first you can hardly believe it's a continuation of the same film in the same genre.

The main plus of the film is that it is modern and genuinely frightening. All without any jump scares or sudden frightening moments. Everything is built solely on the story and atmosphere.

"Howl" is a prime example of how horror films can and should be made today. Even without answers, but with a well-crafted plot/story, quality visuals and sound, and good acting, you can still create quality pictures "like they used to."

Perhaps it won't scare you so much that you can't sleep, but it will definitely be memorable and leave you with an unsettling feeling afterwards.

Director Pedro Martín-Calero debuts with the psychological thriller and haunting horror El Llanto, The Wailing for international audiences, perhaps solidifying his entry into the horror industry. The film, though winning a Best Director Award for Pedro, is strong on the horror aspect but convoluted.

The story follows three timelines closely linked by a haunting cry of despair. Unbeknowst to them, their stories are connect through a horrible presence tied to an eerie building.

Slow-driven, The Wailing is strong on its direction drive and cinematography. Creepy and scary at times, for real, and super solid in terms of depicting different timelines at different time eras.

The not-so-good points have to do with the storyline itself. It felt open and holes seem to creep into the plot points, some actions and events too broad for our understanding, culminating into a main protagonist that is completely absent of a concrete backstory.

The Wailing might be refreshing in some aspects, but leaves us a bit too much in the dark with what is going on and has happened in past events, much of this due to a lack of clear exposition into the main antagonists past and intents. Solid in keeping us on the edge, but lacking in cohesion.