‘Umma’ Is A Rich, Nuanced Supernatural Fright-Fest

My mother was always fond of the insight found in the phrase “hurt people hurt people,” whatever its mysterious origins are. Umma, a haunting new horror outing from writer-director Iris K. Shim, exemplifies this wisdom bar-none. It’s a film that has some sympathy for the Devil (or, more accurately, the supernatural antagonist at its heart) but that nonetheless urges we fight through our trauma and towards the light of our best selves, a film anchored by layered worldbuilding and a wonderful central performance. It’s a great, frightening supernatural outing, and one that’s sure to land on some Best Horror of 2022 lists.

Umma follows Amanda (an electric Sandra Oh) and her daughter Chris (Fivel Stewart), a duo who keep bees and sell honey while living in a dramatically off-the-grid rural farm. Amanda’s clearly haunted by a troubled past, being plagued by nightmares and visions of her mother’s visage. One day Amanda receives a surprise unwelcome visitor from a life she thought she left behind, her uncle. He brings word of her mother’s death along with a briefcase of ashes, artifacts, and a whole lot of blame. He also delivers a warning that her mother felt wronged for being left behind by Amanda, and that she must be honored lest she haunt our protagonist and lay claim to her life. As it turns out, that supernatural warning has more truth to it than Amanda ever believed as her mother begins to take over her life from beyond the grave.

Sandra Oh really anchors the supernatural fright-fest here, putting in an emotionally nuanced, complex, multifaceted portrayal of a strong woman suffering both trauma and otherworldly torment. Fivel Stewart also excels as her smart, sheltered, but compassionate daughter who gradually yearns for her own independence. As the film’s central duo, the pair sport incredible chemistry, and their relationship as written adds considerable layers to the film’s complex exploration of culture and mother-daughter relationships.

Shim’s script really lands both the competing plotlines overall—Amanda having to deal with both the abusive legacy of her now supernaturally empowered mother and her contention with a daughter who longs to spread her own rhetorical wings—and it balances the themes well in a smartly written narrative. It’s a film that feels so thoroughly grounded in cultural specificity in such a lovely way that the worldbuilding and the crisis within it feel rich and layered with texture (making the scares land that much harder).

Aiding the story overall is gorgeous cinematography from DP Matt Flannery—there are shots (even in the beginning with lightning behind their isolated farmhouse) that are legitimate stunners. Overall the supernatural moments are well executed, with a lot of successful use of light and shadow to create scares and dread. It’s a physically lovely film, and the horror elements are enhanced by some well chosen shots..

The film does have two small weaknesses. The pacing between the story’s competing plotlines lands more than not, but there are a few moments as the midpoint builds to the film’s central crisis where the tonal shift between the plots and their sometimes choppy integration distract from otherwise strong tension. Additionally, the SFX in the supernatural moments, where present, is well developed more often than not but there are moments where it’s noticeable and, for moments, distracting. Neither of these plague the entirety of the film, though, so it’s a small set of concerns in an otherwise great supernatural horror entry.

Altogether, Umma is a great, grounded supernatural horror entry that benefits considerably from a strong central performance from Sandra Oh and the rich, layered backstory woven throughout. The scares work, the cinematography is gorgeous, the threat is harrowing with memorable visuals, and it’s thematic development is precise yet nuanced. It’s a solid fright-fest, and one you won’t want to miss on the big screen.

Umma premieres March 18th in theaters.