‘The Woman In The Yard’ Review – A Haunting Exploration Of Grief And The Supernatural

There’s something profoundly unsettling about a film that makes you sit still with your discomfort, without a clear escape. The Woman in the Yard is one such film—its unnerving quietude, its refusal to offer easy answers, draws you in with the same grip as a cold hand on the back of your neck. It might begin as a simple horror story, a family haunted by grief and an unsettling presence, but this deceptively simple setup gives way to something far more complex and chilling.

We meet Ramona (Danielle Deadwyler), a mother left to pick up the pieces after the death of her husband. The family’s farm, tucked away in rural Georgia, is as decayed as their spirits. The bills are overdue, there’s no electricity, and her leg, injured in some untold accident, serves as a constant reminder of everything she’s lost. Her children, Taylor (Peyton Jackson) and Annie (Estella Kahiha), are left to fumble through their own grief in a house that feels more like a tomb than a home. But in the middle of all this stagnation, the impossible happens: a woman in a long black veil appears in their yard, and everything changes.

The moment the woman arrives, you’re not quite sure whether to laugh or recoil in fear. “Mom, there’s a… woman in the yard.” It’s a line that, in another context, might’ve been the punchline of a horror movie with a much different tone. But here, it’s the start of a nightmare, a slow-burning dread that takes root in every frame. The woman, played by Okwui Okpokwasili, is not some supernatural creature bent on terrorizing the family. No, her presence is far more insidious, driven not by malice, but by something much harder to name—grief, loss, and the kind of crushing sadness that holds you in place even when every instinct screams to run. Her cryptic warnings echo in the silence, thick with both terror and sorrow. And yet, the family does not flee. They remain. They watch. And in doing so, they let the weight of their grief consume them.

At first glance, The Woman in the Yard seems to don the trappings of a standard supernatural horror film—a ghostly figure meant solely to startle. Yet Jaume Collet-Serra, whose past work like Orphan has shown he can deftly balance terror with nuance, takes a different path here. As the film unfolds, what begins as a familiar genre exercise gradually transforms into a poignant exploration of grief—a quiet, unyielding sorrow that seeps into every corner of life. The true terror isn’t found in the eerie specter outside the window; it lies in the invisible ruins within the family’s home, where unresolved loss has a way of paralyzing the spirit and warping reality into something almost unrecognizable.

The film’s use of space and light is nothing short of extraordinary, with cinematographer Pawel Pogorzelski—renowned for his work on Hereditary and Midsommar—crafting a visual experience that is as chilling as it is beautiful. Unlike the typical shadow-laden horror where fear lurks in the dark, this film dares to expose its terrors under the harsh, unforgiving daylight. The wide, open shots of the yard and the isolated house feel almost claustrophobic, as though the very space is closing in on the family. There’s nowhere to hide in this sun-drenched hellscape, and the oppressive stillness intensifies the emotional weight of their plight. Every inch of the house, every broken window, is revealed in the glaring light, compelling us to confront the cracks in the family’s fragile reality. The film is packed with a series of striking, unforgettable images—each one more mesmerizing and impactful than the one before—every frame unfolding a fresh revelation that underscores the depth of their torment. In this way, the film becomes a study in vulnerability, where even the most mundane details acquire a haunting significance.

Danielle Deadwyler’s performance as Ramona is nothing short of exceptional. She doesn’t merely act; she inhabits the role with a rawness and intensity that makes you feel every inch of her character’s grief and anguish. There’s an unsettling stillness to her, a quiet strength, but also a fragility that makes her, and the film as a whole, feel incredibly vulnerable. Okpokwasili’s woman in the yard, with her otherworldly presence and eerie calm, is the perfect counterpart to Deadwyler’s turmoil. Together, they create a tension that feels almost tangible, a slow burn that simmers beneath every interaction.

What really makes The Woman in the Yard stand out is that it never tries to spoon-feed you answers. The supernatural bits aren’t just there for cheap thrills, and Collet-Serra isn’t in a hurry to explain everything. There’s no neat wrap-up or clear backstory for the mysterious woman—what remains is the unsettling thought that sometimes the most terrifying thing isn’t the ghost haunting your window, but the heavy grief you carry inside. The film’s final act builds to this emotional and eerie peak without ever offering a tidy conclusion, leaving you to grapple with the messy, unfixable darkness that has overtaken the family.