By George & Josh Bate
An Indigenous-led ensemble drives a psychological horror movie bolstering a poignant, relevant message about access to mental health care in Ancestral Beasts.
Making its world premiere at Fantasia International Film Festival 2026, Ancestral Beasts stars Morgan Holstrom (Outlander, Shadow of the Rougarou) as Elyse, a young woman struggling in the years since the death of her mother. In need of a reprieve from a stressful job and demanding sister (Darla Contois), Elyse relocates to her auntie’s house in rural Canada. Nosy neighbor Max (Josh Strait) makes her arrival unsettling, although she soon realizes that there is something far more threatening lurking in the house’s foundation.
The intergenerational struggles of Indigenous people seldom make headlines and, as such, seldom feature prominently in media. These struggles even more rarely crop up in horror, a genre known for blending nail-biting thrills with poignant commentary. In his first narrative feature, director Tim Riedel breaks the mold with a film that positions the anxieties, depression, self-harm, and trauma of Indigenous women front and center.
As is often the case with feature directorial debuts, Ancestral Beasts is a little rough around the edges. The pacing meanders, emphasizing the need for a tighter edit and removal of scenes that contribute little, if anything, to the broader themes. Some of the supporting performances feel stilted and threaten to pull one out of the story. And the film can certainly be a little too heavy-handed with its messaging at times.
However, Riedel’s debut largely perseveres through some of the awkwardness of its filmmaking by offering a unique take on the intersection of horror and trauma. Many horror fans are understandably burned out of horror movies that are ultimately telling a story about a character’s trauma, but Riedel finds an approachable entry point into this sort of film before exhibiting a willingness to subvert expectations.
Most of the tropes of a haunted house movie can be spotted in Ancestral Beasts, all of which are executed serviceably, if not remarkably. But Riedel couches these tropes in a constantly escalating narrative with such precision and calculation that he manages to breathe new life into that which will be all too familiar for horror fans.
Rather than use these tropes to inject energy and style into his commentary on intergenerational trauma, Riedel allows the heavy subject matter at the core of his story to speak for itself, liberated from pretentious or overly stylized filmmaking. Ancestral Beasts may not keep one at the edge of their seat in a manner that other contemporary horror movies do, but there is something deeply uncomfortable about seeing a character struggle to navigate her mental health while the system and her issues with boundary-setting get in the way.
Riedel also deserves credit for approaching Indigenous communities with an emotional honesty. In addition to highlighting the ways in which institutions and systems actively work against marginalized populations, Ancestral Beasts also demonstrates how internal support systems can both be integral and detrimental. There are more than a few similarities, for instance, between the creepy neighbor Max and the kind-hearted Cody (Asivak Koostachin), both of whom harbor good intentions while inadvertently belittling the autonomy of our protagonist. Each of the character relationships in the film feel authentic and multifaceted – neither wholly good nor wholly bad but something in between, as is the case with most real-life relationships.
Like many similar horror movies, Ancestral Beasts doesn’t provide definitive answers to many of the intriguing questions it poses. Riedel offers just enough for audiences to piece the narrative together and explain the supernatural occurrences, although those seeking a total clarity of storytelling and a satisfying narrative resolution may come away more frustrated than fulfilled.
VERDICT: 6.5/10
Making its world premiere at Fantasia International Film Festival 2026, Ancestral Beasts is an Indigenous-led psychological horror movie bolstering poignant, relevant messages about access to mental health care and the effects of intergenerational trauma. Director Tim Reidel’s first feature largely overcomes meandering pacing, a handful of stilted supporting performances, and somewhat heavy-handed commentary by offering a unique take on the intersection of horror and trauma. Riedel finds a novel way to use tropes common to haunted horror movies, in turn creating a film that, while not overtly scary, is uncomfortable in the relatability of its protagonist’s struggles. An ambiguous ending that doesn’t provide definitive answers to many of the questions posed may leave some viewers frustrated, but there’s an undeniable emotional honesty and authenticity inherent to the film that makes it a worthwhile watch.