Around this time last week, I received two inquiries for coverage, as I do, for two separate films both claiming to be “the first horror film in the Irish language.” I was immediately intrigued, and despite the coincidental timing of these two releases, feel that they can comfortably co-exist. The two films are John Farrelly’s An Taibhse and Aislinn Clarke’s Fréwaka and while they don’t have much in common on the surface other than the language aspect, they both dovetail in interesting ways and set up this spring of 2025 as an important moment for Irish-language (perhaps Irish in general) horror.
An Taibhse (The Ghost)
In An Taibhse, Father and daughter Eamon (Tom Kerrisk) and Máire (Livvy Hill) take on the role of stewards for a remote English-owned mansion in the years following the Irish famine. Uprooted from their farm in Belfast, they are grateful to be alive but Máire has deep misgivings about the assignment and grieves deeply for the loss of a close relative. At the same time, Máire is being haunted by a malevolent entity called Alexander, who does all the things that ghosts tend to do – creepily opening and closing doors, leaving lit candles lying about, and imbuing the already-creepy estate with moans. Amplified by visions and dreams of horrific violence, Máire begins to crumble under the pressure of her grueling work.
A gruesome accident puts Eamon on the shelf, putting even more pressure on Máire to maintain the expansive estate on her own. Eamon, with little else to do besides bark orders and drink, becomes cruel to Máire, who is still wracked with fear over the many forces tormenting her in the mansion. There’s more than a little similarity to King and Kubrick’s The Shining here as Eamon’s mental state deteriorates and his child is forced to grapple with the difficult truth that their father is becoming a monster before their eyes.
There’s a painterly quality to the cinematography in An Taibhse that has a way of enveloping you. I remember thinking many years ago about Jon Wright’s Grabbers (2012), that one can shoot just about anything set against the Irish landscape and it will appear sprawling and significant. The Wicklow mansion called Coollattin House in An Taibhse needs no such bolstering as it is plenty sprawling, and we see so much of it laid bare in broad daylight in the beginning of the film that it’s clear there’s a lot it’s concealing. Like every great haunted house-set horror, the mansion becomes it’s own character. It reveals itself in stages throughout the An Taibhse in much the same way that Eamon’s monstrous character does – grand and beautiful during the day, but darkly foreboding when night falls and the orange glow of candles can mean either something comforting or sinister. Especially with a cast and setting this sparse, it reminds us how readily we fill out empty spaces with ghosts, or at least the notion of ghosts.
An Taibhse is a chilling and often tragic tale anchored by two terrific performances by Hill and Kerrisk. Especially Hill who had to learn the Irish language nearly from scratch in order to deliver it (Kerrisk is a native and fluent speaker). It is bleak and nihilistic in a way that evokes Franz and Fiala, but is also a high water mark for Irish horror that feels appropriate for the culture that gave us Dracula. More importantly, it celebrates that culture with a script that fully embraces the Irish language and tells an oft-forgotten tale from the post-famine years. Too often are the stories about the famine itself but those that survived it, left behind with their haunting memories and the weight of loss, may have had the more difficult road.
Fréwaka (Roots)
Aislinn Clarke’s film may have a little more polish behind it than An Taibhse (also owing to Fréwaka’s modern setting), but also isn’t constrained by being in the Irish language for it’s entire runtime, just most of it. It does retain it’s roots, so to speak, in the sense that it’s title is an abbreviation of the word Fréamhacha which means ‘roots.’
In Fréwaka, newly-minted caregiver Sioban or ‘Shoo’ (Clare Monnelly) leaves her pregnant fiancee Mila (Aleksandra Bystrzhitskaya) to take on a job posting as a live-in nurse for Peig (Bríd Ní Neachtain). Shoo is uniquely suited for this as she’s a fluent speaker of the Irish language. Shoo is also harbouring guilt and resentment for her mother, who subjected her to Carrie-style religious abuse and who ultimately committed suicide by hanging.
Arriving at Peig’s home, littered as it is with detritus, hastily-constructed shrines, and foreboding-looking trinkets and taxidermied animals, Shoo sees only a dementia-addled old woman at first. But Peig considers herself a steward and gatekeeper of a portal to a dark spiritual realm in the form of her cellar door. There’s no mystery as to whether the ominous noises coming from behind the door are supernatural or a figure of Peig’s deteriorating mind. It’s explicitly ghostly, and that adds a weight and stakes to Fréwaka and allows the viewer to focus on the compounding element of generational trauma that Peig and Shoo have both dealt with as a result of religious violence. This shared experience eventually creates a bond between the two women. Tenuous at first, but developing into something genuine.
For a film that seems like a simple story, Clarke layers on elements of folk horror both subtle and overt and juxtaposes it with real historical atrocity in the form of the Magdalene Laundries run by the Catholic Church throughout Ireland and the last of which survived into the 1990’s. Though a wholly different vibe from An Taibhse, there are certainly similarities between the portrayal of Coollattin House and Peig’s country home despite seeming as different as can be. Peig’s house is no mansion, but its narrow hallways and piles of stuff creates a labyrinthine feel, like a rabbit warren that unfurls over Fréwaka‘s runtime. It works beautifully with a tense score from Die Hexen, feeling like a powerful and menacing cloud over the production.
Other than the language aspect, a surface read suggests that there’s not a lot of basis on which to compare these two films. But digging deeper, there’s more to it. Both Fréwaka and An Taibhse are centered around the broad theme of care and stewardship, and the trauma inherent in the loss of a mother (though under almost opposite circumstances). Both films are anchored by pairs of powerful performances and some truly haunting imagery and atmosphere. Maybe most importantly and interestingly, both films draw deep on Irish history and culture to produce stories that feel like they couldn’t possibly take place elsewhere. Sure, there’s whispers of Stephen King’s The Shining in An Taibhse and possibly Natalie Erika James’ Relic in Fréwaka , but adding the context and richness of Irish history and mysticism make them something unique. I’m not sure which of these two films can truly claim being the “first” Irish-language horror film, but this spring, you shouldn’t have to choose.
An Taibhse (The Ghost) is set for theatrical release this Friday, March 28, 2024 in Ireland with a worldwide release planned for later this year from Raven Banner and Firebook Entertainment.
Aislinn Clarke’s Fréwaka comes to Shudder on April 25, with a theatrical release set for Irish cinemas the same day.
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