In an introduction similar to how we enter Dan Trachtenberg’s 10 Cloverfield Lane, a twenty-something woman awakens in a makeshift prison in Veracruz, scared and confused as to what exactly transpired which led to her captivity. As journalist Cristina (Brigitte Kali Canales) attempts to piece her immediate memory together from within her sudden predicament, she is interrupted by her jailor (Sal Lopez). He ignores her pleading with a disquieting apathy and force-feeds her goat milk while a mysterious elder (Julia Vera) and an old acquaintance from her past (Andrea Cortes) watch on intently. This horrifying scenario, that of the captivity and torture of a young woman, draws immediate associations with the unfortunately titled “torture porn” genre of horror and extreme cinema à la Hostel or Martyrs, but therein lies the inherent intrigue of Christopher Alender’s The Old Ways. Cristina’s “captors” are trying to help her…even if that is hard for her, and by extension the audience, to understand
Having purposely taken an assignment in her native Mexico, which she had not visited since her mother (Michelle Jubilee Gonzalez) had died under suspicious circumstances when she was young, Cristina is lacking respect for her estranged culture, to say the least. In her pursuit of a story, she mistakenly treads upon the sacred ruins of a local village and is believed by the village elder to have become host to a demonic entity due to her trespassing. Seeking to purify her soul, the elders decide to subject the unbelieving Cristina to a prolonged and potentially dangerous exorcism process that cannot be stopped until the demon inside her has been expelled. But what if, as Cristina believes, she is not possessed and these elders are too clouded by their faith to recognize the real harm they are doing?
This is one of the central themes which Alender’s film gradually teases out to create a protracted sense of terror and unrest in his audience: “the old ways” of ancient religious practice viewed through the lens of contemporary skepticism. The theological tug-of-war between Cristina and her captors provides unbearable tension as Alender allows her sense of endangerment to feel at times palpable and grounded and at other times undetermined and dubious as the film endeavors to keep things ambiguous. Screenwriter Marcos Gabriel’s inventive premise invites several horrific ideas stemming from this thematic concern between faith and rationality to be capitalized on by Alender as he constantly plays with his audience as to whose version of reality we are meant to believe. A memorable sequence involving a restrained and helpless Cristina, left completely isolated until she experiences a vision as part of this protracted exorcism, escalates from the anxious possibility of something mystic occurring to nail-biting terror as a very real bed of snakes wriggles their way into her cell. The promise of the supernatural is being supplanted by the horror of reality. Is this actually an exorcism or just cut-and-dry accidental kidnapping/torture?
Casting further doubt and speculation over what is transpiring in her cell (and possibly in her very soul), Cristina is also a heroin addict who is going through the arduous processes of withdrawal throughout the film. The terrifying notion which Alender and Gabriel hit upon to add more confusion and dread into their film is that her withdrawal symptoms could very easily be mistaken by her keepers as her body rejecting the entity and thus further strengthening their belief they are in the right. The point is effectively used to add more empathy for Cristina’s character and escalate the horror elements as her symptoms worsen and the rites of the exorcism get more intense and dangerous. Formally, the poignant manner in which the interior space of her prison is manipulated through the editing and cinematography to feel as if it is closing in on Cristina as she begins to deteriorate stands out, considering the film only uses the one setting for an extended period of time. Suffering from delusions and doubt — created either by her floundering addiction or the possible evil spirit she unknowingly harbors — The Old Ways slyly keeps pulling the wool over your eyes and making you second-guess what you had assumed through its artful misdirections and brilliant setup.
Surprisingly, The Old Ways eventually offers firm explanations and resolution to its constant deception rather than riding its ambiguity for all it’s worth to an unresolved conclusion. Without dipping into spoiler territory, the manner in which The Old Ways resolves to show its hand, unfortunately, undoes a lot of that initial arousing speculation which the film was able to harness for such terror-inducing effect. In a word, the film’s extensive third act and denouement feel like a course correction designed to dispel any and all ambivalence over the previous hour of the film’s runtime. This is fine as it allows for a pretty entertaining and spectacle driven climax to occur, but it is undeniable that the film’s greatest strength lies in its ability to create empathy, terror, and doubt from its pointed use of uncertainty.
While The Old Ways struggles with its followthrough, the film’s unique premise and interesting manner through which it explores it more than makes up for it. This is without even mentioning the gripping performances of the cast who carry the film through its layers of ambiguity and deception. Alender’s film is an inventive and promising feature whose confident ability to play with your perceptions should place the director on your list of horror directors to watch moving forward.
