Shaman

Every culture has its own beliefs, but throughout history, some religions have felt the need to travel to isolated places to help those people “see the light.” Of course, those communities have their own long-standing traditions—and while some individuals may be persuaded to follow another way of life, many will always stand by what their ancestors taught them.

Antonio Negret’s new film Shaman explores this dynamic through the story of a missionary working to convert Indigenous people, who must ultimately come to terms with her own shaken faith.

All Candice (Sara Canning) and her husband Joel (Daniel Gillies) want to do is help the people of a small village discover the perceived benefits of accepting God into their lives. They’ve built a church, where Father Meyer (Alejandro Fajardo) tends to a growing flock of new believers. With them is their son, Elliot (Jett Klyne), who spends his time playing with the local kids while his parents carry out baptisms and conversions.

During one of those play sessions, Elliot loses a toy plane in a cave—a place the village children have been explicitly told never to enter. Elliot, of course, ignores the warning and ventures inside to retrieve the toy. But once inside, something grabs his arm. He breaks free and runs back outside—but something has followed him out.

From that moment on, Elliot begins acting strangely. The local shaman knows exactly what’s happening, but Candice’s rigid faith won’t allow her to believe them. Instead, she suspects the villagers themselves are responsible for whatever has taken hold of her son. Things only grow worse—Elliot begins to terrify others in the village, and even an exorcism performed by Father Meyer fails to help.

Now, Candice is faced with a terrible choice: stay true to her faith or do what’s necessary to save her child.

Written by Daniel Negret and directed by his brother Antonio, Shaman tells a compelling story about the clash between religious doctrine and indigenous belief systems. We’ve seen plenty of exorcism films before, many of which follow the same formula. But Shaman shifts the dynamic in subtle but meaningful ways—setting the story in a remote village and making the possessed child a young boy, rather than the more traditional young girl. These small changes give the film a fresher perspective.

Where Shaman truly shines, though, is in its exploration of theological and cultural conflict. The tension between the missionaries and the indigenous people adds depth to what could have otherwise been a standard possession tale.

Shaman brings a refreshing feel to the exorcism genre—even while still using some familiar beats. Despite its bleak story, it delivers visual beauty through its cinematography, with locations that strike a perfect balance between natural wonder and lurking danger. It is, after all, a horror film, and it provides scares mostly through clever use of shadows and slow-building tension.

Rather than frightening me in a traditional sense, the film disturbed me—which is sometimes even more effective. Its atmosphere is relentlessly dark, both in tone and in visuals. I appreciated the Negret brothers’ unique approach. They came at this story through a different lens and delivered something that feels genuinely new within the realm of possession horror.