A queer relationship falls out of sync as one woman loses touch with what is real and what may or may not be coming to her from the divine.
Holy Ghost, directed by Hannah Lynch and produced by Esaú Allemora, is a striking exploration of mental unravelling and the complexities of a queer relationship under strain. This 12-minute short film blends drama and horror with an artistic flair, leaving viewers questioning the reality of the events unfolding on screen. It’s a film that draws strength from its ambiguity and unsettling atmosphere.
One of the most notable aspects of Holy Ghost is its artistic direction. The film is split into three distinct acts, each marked by a biblical phrase that sets the tone for the events that follow. This structure lends a religious undertone to the narrative, hinting at themes of faith, morality, and divine intervention, but never offering clear answers. The viewer is left to ponder the protagonist’s experiences; spiritual, psychological, real and imagined. This ambiguity is the film's greatest strength, as it creates an intense sense of unease.
Visually, the film draws inspiration from modern horror aesthetics, reminiscent of Midsommar. There’s a creeping discomfort in the way seemingly ordinary scenes are shot. The film opens with soft lighting and serene imagery, but as the protagonist's mental state deteriorates, the tone becomes increasingly unsettling. The contrast between calm and chaos keeps the audience on edge, unsure of what will happen next.
The narrative revolves around a woman who begins to lose touch with reality after missing her medication. This triggers a rapid descent into paranoia and mania, with the line between the divine and the imagined blurring further with each passing moment. The film’s use of various narrative devices—dreams, visions, montages, and shifts between black-and-white and colour imagery—adds layers of complexity to the storytelling.
The pacing of the film accelerates as the protagonist’s grip on reality slips. A series of events unfolds, each one more extreme reaction than the last, swinging the viewer from paranoia to moments of eerie serenity. The film never allows the audience to get comfortable; just when you think you understand what’s happening, it veers in another direction. This unpredictability is central to the film’s effectiveness as a psychological horror.
While Holy Ghost does not offer a clear resolution, this lack of closure is intentional. The story thrives on its uncertainty, and it’s this uncertainty that keeps the audience engaged. You’re never quite sure what’s real, what’s imagined, or what might be the result of divine intervention. The film leaves you questioning, which is precisely where it wants you to be.
The film’s sound design is key to its unnerving atmosphere. Reverberative and dissonant music and sounds are used to great effect, amplifying the sense of unease as the protagonist’s mental state deteriorates. The soundscape is designed to unsettle the viewer, with each jarring noise heightening the tension. Combined with the film’s visual style, the sound design creates an immersive experience that pulls the audience into the protagonist’s disoriented world.
Camera positioning also plays a significant role in building tension. The film frequently adopts the protagonist’s point of view, giving the audience a direct line of sight into her perspective. This makes the film’s more disturbing moments feel even more personal and invasive as if we are witnessing the events through her eyes. The close-up shots, particularly during moments of physical discomfort, such as the gruesome nail cuticle-picking scene, add a visceral quality to the horror.
The performances in Holy Ghost are strong, with the lead actress delivering a compelling portrayal of a woman on the brink of losing control. Her gradual descent into paranoia is believable and emotionally charged, grounding the film’s more surreal elements in a relatable human experience. The dynamic between her and her partner also adds depth to the narrative, exploring the strain that mental health issues can place on a relationship.
Holy Ghost is a promising short film that blends drama and horror with an artistic sensibility. Its strength lies in its ambiguity, creating an unsettling atmosphere that keeps the audience on edge. The film’s use of visual and auditory techniques effectively conveys the protagonist’s deteriorating mental state, while the strong performances add emotional depth to the narrative.
Though the film leaves many questions unanswered, this is part of its charm. It doesn’t seek to provide clear explanations but rather to immerse the viewer in a world of uncertainty and discomfort. Holy Ghost is a haunting and thought-provoking piece that demonstrates the potential of its filmmaker, Hannah Lynch, and leaves the audience eager to see more from her in the future.
Day One Hāpai te Haeata provides rangatahi with the tools, guidance and opportunities to share stories on screen.
The entire series of the eight short films premieres at Hollywood Avondale on Tuesday 3rd September, with all films then released online the following day - and socials thereafter.
View the shorts here