The Surrender

But there's something about Julie Max's first direct debut "The Surrender" that delves deeper into the darker sides of the human psyche, exploring the different impacts of what it's like for two people to experience a void from the same common denominator. In reality, you could look at this film is contained for its benefit. It's confined to a couple of indoor spaces with four characters. At the most annoying fracture is a mother/daughter relationship. How many times did the daughter called her (mom)? The entire film? Is very annoying, get this the ending of the movie will feel like it needs about 10 more minutes of the story and unfortunately 91 minutes without the credits went by fast. So I am rating this a 5.6/10 because the first time director should give massive credit to her work she'd accomplish.

Finally, something good on Shudder - and it's very good. The Surrender is a visceral slow-burn that you feel more than you see. It's a grief-soaked character study with horror woven in so subtly, it creeps up on you. Colby Minifie is magnetic - raw, restrained, and utterly believable - carrying much of the emotional weight with devastating ease. The supernatural elements take a backseat to something more intimate and human, which makes the unsettling moments land even harder.

What's most impressive is how much this film achieves on a modest budget. Even better, it's directed by Julia Max, bringing a fresh and powerful female perspective to the horror genre. Max leans into shadow, silence, and sound design to create something quietly haunting. It's not flashy, and that's its strength. This is horror that listens instead of screams - a proper gem in Shudder's line-up.

Sometimes a movie night throws you a curveball, and this was one of those times. The crew-Willow, Amy, Tails, Knuckles, and Shadow-went in completely blind for The Surrender, thinking we were just in for another spooky horror ride. The only thing we knew? It had something to do with a ritual. Sounded promising, right? Well, it was... sort of.

The idea behind the film is honestly pretty captivating: a family ritual where you're asked to "surrender" to something beyond life-spiritual, emotional, and frighteningly real. That was enough to get all of us hooked early on. But when the movie dives deeper into this ritual, especially surrounding the death of the father, it starts raising the question: why not just let the man rest in peace? Still, we knew if that happened, there'd be no movie.

Things escalate fast when the supernatural elements kick in. It is a scary movie-no doubt about it. Tails literally tapped out mid-way through when the intensity cranked up (no spoilers, but it got wild). Willow, Knuckles, and Shadow were vibing with the thrills, but both Knuckles and Shadow called out the main character for being kind of weak in those monster scenes. They joked she could've taken them down with half the effort if she actually tried. Classic.

Amy, on the other hand, got pulled in deep once the ritual scenes started going dark. Like, real dark. She was tense throughout-especially when the blood came into play-and said the ritual arc was easily her favorite part, even if it creeped her out. Honestly, same.

But here's where the movie kind of lost all of us: the pacing and the emotional drama. There's a lot of back-and-forth between the two main characters, and while we get it's meant to show grief and trauma, it felt repetitive and dragged out. The emotional weight just didn't land like it should have. The story kind of stumbled in building the supernatural world, too-like, the ritual was cool, but why it happened and what it really meant? That part was foggy and undercooked.

By the time it wrapped up, we all agreed it was fun to experience together, especially in the dark with the volume up. It had moments-definitely creepy, visually strong at times-but as a full package, it didn't live up to what the concept deserved.

Final score from the crew: 4/10. Cool idea, scary at parts, but not quite the horror gem we hoped for.

There is something uncertain and magical in The Surrender as a mother and daughter struggle to manage as they face the dying of their husband and father. The metaphysical supernatural aspects made me ponder the notion of death in light of accepting this inevitability or fighting against letting go. In this aspect, the film is successful; the acting and direction set the scene well to contemplate this and ponder on this release.

The part that drew me away from this contemplation was the general annoyance of the two main characters. The mother and daughter fought, complained, bullied, capitulated, ruminated, and whined about each other for the present and the past. I once called put for the daughter to "Shut up!" even though I was annoyed at the mother for her inability to see past her own needs and desires. (The daughter was suggested to have her own purposes that were selfish as well.)

The family dynamics were a bit too dysfunctional for a clearer focus on grief and recovery. The extreme here lead me to think of a Greek tragedy, but the characters and the plot were too small to match that. Still, I left the film with a sense of having found my own way in grieving and glad I didn't need these extremes to find resolution in my own life.

"The Surrender" is a supernatural folklore-horror that centres on a mother-daughter conflict.

Despite its promising premise-a meditation on death, grief, and the unbearable pain of loss-the story never quite fulfils its potential.

The writer-director Julia Max's feature debut reveals a striking eye for visuals and atmosphere. Her aesthetic choices are superb, especially in the film's last moments, where grief tension simmer beneath the surface.

However, when the narrative shifts from family drama to occult ritual, coherence begins to falter. The film descends into a kind of beautiful nonsense, evoking echoes of Hereditary, Talk to Me, A Dark Song, The Babadook, and, more recently, The Shrouds.

Max draws layered performances from her leads. Megan (Colby Minifie) and Barbara (Kate Burton) are emotionally distinct and compelling.

Barbara is cold and resolute in her quest to resurrect her husband Robert (Vaughn Armstrong) after a tormented illness, while Megan wrestles with doubt, torn between empathy and skepticism, burdened by the ongoing pain of watching her father suffer.

The core idea is clear, and there's real potential for emotional impact in its exploration of the truths we're most reluctant to face.

The narrative gaps and tonal inconsistencies are too evident to ignore. The film digs into deep themes but struggles to land with clarity and keep viewers engaged.

There are moments worth honoring, such as how the film plays intriguingly with trauma, hope, and monstrosity-blending psychological horror with gore and body horror elements.

It stirs something compelling, even if the final result feels more like an atmospheric sketch than a fully realised vision.

"The Surrender" doesn't over-explain itself-a refreshing choice in a genre often burdened by exposition. Yet at times, it veers too far into the cryptic, resembling a literal descent into a hellish purgatory, leaving the audience more adrift than intrigued.

Is it a bad film? Absolutely not. It's flawed, but not without merit. Flawed but worthwhile, especially for fans of visually rich, boundary-pushing indie horror.

While "The Surrender" doesn't quite stick the landing, Max's bold vision and confident aesthetic suggest she's a filmmaker to watch.

Horror needs voices like hers-unsettling, ambitious, and willing to take risks.