Score: 4.5 / 5
I'm a little late on viewing this one, but it was just so brilliant that I had to write and publicize it a bit. Do yourself a favor and check it out!
Cristina wakes up in an unfamiliar hut. An older man asks her why she was in a region called La Boca and won't let her leave the room. She's chained loosely to a bed. We have no idea why she's here, but we learn over the course of the dialogue that they are in Veracruz, Mexico, not far from Cristina's home. We learn she is a journalist from Los Angeles who had returned home to investigate the La Boca ruins and forbidden caves. We also learn that she is a heroin addict, and a pretty savvy one, but the mysterious man with her is no cartel tough guy. When he opens the door for an older woman with a lot of face paint, we realize this is a shockingly different situation, even while we still have no idea what's happening, much like Cristina herself.
The older woman is a bruja, a witch essentially, named Luz. Her symbolic light will shine on Cristina, whose family has arranged her abduction in order to perform an exorcism. That's right, they're convinced she's possessed by a demon. This revelation hits home when Cristina's cousin Miranda arrives and tells her her behaviors have not been normal nor healthy. We're made to wonder for a long time, at least half the film, whether the belief in Cristina's possession is primitive and violent, and if her ailment isn't just a spiritual name for a physiological problem: namely, addiction. This kind of consideration isn't new in the possession/haunted house subgenre of horror, but it's rare that a film so intently dives into the murky space of the unknown between the two right away (the best I know of is The Exorcism of Emily Rose).
With the exception of a few flashbacks, the entire film takes place in the room that acts as Cristina's prison and possible sanctuary. The cinematographer and director work hard to bring new and exciting energy to the old "exorcism movie" shtick, bringing novelty in refreshingly frequent doses. Not unlike the ways Possession and The Vigil reframe the subgenre away from Catholicism and Protestantism and toward Judaism or how Under the Shadow leans into Arabic mythology, here we're given strong doses of Latin American folklore in the form of brujeria. Thematically, this works to increase the feeling that Cristina is now enduring exactly the kind of "old ways" she attempted to flee by moving to the States. Now she's trapped in a prison of her past and forced to confront the ways she has denied or ignored the things that really should matter to her in favor of drugs and her career.
But soon enough, weird and scary things start to happen. Snakes are drawn to her, hallucinations and visions take her on wild trips, and her body is pushed to the brink of breaking (to say nothing of her mind). It's a scary, wacky, incredibly violent chamber piece in which no holds are barred and its probably small budget is milked for every damned, gooey cent. An endurance test as much for us as it is for Cristina, The Old Ways is one of the most fresh and exciting entries in the genre in some time.
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