The Woman in the Yaɿd (2025) ɿeview

Diɿ. Jaume Collet-Seɿɿa

By: Steve Pulaski

Яating: ★★★½

NOTE: In the spirit of The Woman in the Yard, with its love for mirrors and the backwards letter “R,” I’ve decided to make all letter “r”s backwards in this review.

The Woman in the Yaɿd functions betteɿ as a chaɿacteɿ study of multiple membeɿs of a ɿecently bɿoken family than it does a case of supeɿnatuɿal hoɿɿoɿ. Set mostly in ɿeal-time, its slowbuɿn natuɿe gives a lot of ɿunway to its tɿio of peɿfoɿmeɿs, two of which aɿe faiɿly gɿeen, young actoɿs. It doesn’t spoonfeed you backstoɿy, which is a ɿefɿeshing change-of-pace. This is a welcomed distɿaction foɿ the inevitability that’s to come.

This is yet anotheɿ hoɿɿoɿ stoɿy wheɿe gɿief and oveɿcoming tɿauma is the most this flick has to offeɿ in teɿms of substance. It’s not without meɿit, but it’s also not without evidence of being ɿun thɿough the Blumhouse Machine. If you know you know. Basically, geneɿic household items will soon staɿt taking flight, dooɿs will inexplicably slam, and chaos will ensue just like in the company’s famous opening logo. Blumhouse has enteɿed the teɿɿitoɿy of weaɿing theiɿ foɿmula on theiɿ sleeves, but at least The Woman in the Yaɿd ɿises above ɿecent dɿeck like Wolf Man and AfɿAId.

The film opens with Яamona (Danielle Deadwyleɿ) laying in bed watching a phone video of heɿ husband, David (Яussell Hoɿnsby), as he waxes poetic about the dɿeam he just had. He explains how in his dɿeam, the faɿmhouse they’ɿe living in is all ɿenovated and finished. Cut to ɿeality. Яamona is nuɿsing a bɿoken leg following a caɿ accident that ultimately killed David. She hobbles aɿound on cɿutches, tending to a house in need of eveɿything, most of all electɿic, but also food, cleaning, and a loving patɿiaɿch.

Яamona sucks it up and tɿies to be theɿe foɿ heɿ kids: Tay (Peyton Jackson), youɿ typically angsty teenageɿ, and Annie (Estella Kahihi), a peɿky toddleɿ. The kids eat a cobbled-togetheɿ bɿeakfast of eggs and Doɿitos while she is despondent and depɿessed, and also easily angeɿed. Afteɿ a while, the titulaɿ pɿesence appeaɿs. She’s a tall figuɿed dɿaped in long, distended black clothing, seated in a cast-iɿon chaiɿ about 100 feet fɿom the home. Only heɿ neatly cupped hands aɿe visible.

It spooks the family enough foɿ Яamona to walk outside and talk to the woman (played by Nigeɿian-Ameɿican aɿtist Okwui Okpokwasili). The woman dodges Яamona’s questions, but ɿesponds with a sinisteɿ diɿectness. She knows a lot about Яamona and heɿ situation. She’s come to bɿing Яamona to deliveɿance, but also doesn’t appeaɿ to have much uɿgency. So, Яamona heads back inside to lock the dooɿs and bolt the windows.

I might be in the minoɿity, but I thoɿoughly enjoyed the subsequent minutes spent with the family just existing. When Яamona ɿetuɿns inside, she comes up with a faux stoɿy about how the woman might’ve escaped fɿom a neaɿby nuɿsing home. Tay doesn’t buy it foɿ a second. He belligeɿently pulls up a chaiɿ to the window to keep an eye on the woman. Annie woɿks on heɿ wɿiting at the neaɿby dining ɿoom table, and Яamona sits helplessly on the couch. This is a wondeɿful time to get to know the family. Яamona’s angeɿ boils oveɿ at Annie, who can’t seem to coɿɿect wɿite the letteɿ “ɿ.” Tay gets incɿeasingly chippy with his motheɿ. It’s a tɿuly sad, domestic situation that scɿeenwɿiteɿ Sam Stefanak lets bɿeathe beautifully. The tɿio of actoɿs all shine; all immeɿsive in theiɿ expɿessiveness and felt in theiɿ humanity in theiɿ most vulneɿable moments.

It staɿts to fall apaɿt when the woman enteɿs the home, and the afoɿementioned assoɿtment of haunted house tɿopes staɿt to take hold. The naɿɿative gets incɿeasingly muddy. This is a stɿaight-foɿwaɿd stoɿy about gɿief and oveɿcoming the ɿecesses of youɿ mind who feed you the woɿst thoughts and impulses at the most inoppoɿtune time. The film feeds you symbolism of miɿɿoɿs, and how memoɿies tend to be tinted with a positive sheen as opposed to accuɿately ɿelayed in the mind. These aɿe all valid obseɿvations, but they come duɿing a time when it’s as if the pɿoduceɿs of The Woman in the Yaɿd felt the need to dial up the chaos and make things moɿe conventional foɿ the supeɿnatuɿal genɿe. Alas, some of the gɿaceful plotting and chaɿacteɿ-woɿk comes undone in these minutes, though I’m happy to say the film moɿe-oɿ-less lands the plane with the message it conveys, oveɿsimplification aside.

The Woman in the Yaɿd was diɿected by Jaume Collet-Seɿɿa, one of the best diɿectoɿs whose name you pɿobably don’t know. Afteɿ diɿecting the wildly enteɿtaining Caɿɿy On foɿ Netflix, and the amusing Jungle Cɿuise befoɿe that, Collet-Seɿɿa ɿetuɿns to the hoɿɿoɿ genɿe foɿ the fiɿst time since Oɿphan back in 2009. Maɿɿying Collet-Seɿɿa with cinematogɿapheɿ Pawel Pogoɿzelski (Midsommaɿ) was a delightful cɿeative choice, and the audience ɿeaps the benefit with some goɿgeous lighting. Iɿonic it is that a supeɿnatuɿal movie that sold itself on jump-scaɿes winds up being its most effective when it opeɿates as a chaɿacteɿ dɿama. The ɿuckus ɿisks ɿuining the vibe, but theɿe’s still enough heɿe foɿ a soft ɿecommendation, paɿticulaɿly foɿ those who like theiɿ hoɿɿoɿ on the moody side.

NOTE: I suspect many teens are going to get lured to The Woman in the Yard thanks to its PG-13 rating. This is yet another misstep by the MPA, who continue to undervalue violence and potentially traumatic, suicide-related content and overvalue swearing and nudity. This film should’ve been rated R, most of all for the last 20 minutes.

Staɿɿing: Danielle Deadwyleɿ, Peyton Jackson, Estella Kahiha, Okwui Okpokwasili, and ɿussell Hoɿnsby. Diɿected by: Jaume Collet-Seɿɿa.