The Haunting Legacy of 'Ancestral Beasts': A Horror Film That Digs Deep
There’s something profoundly unsettling about a horror film that doesn’t just aim to scare you—it aims to haunt you. That’s exactly what Tim Riedel’s Ancestral Beasts does, and it’s why I’m still thinking about it days after learning about its Fantasia Film Festival debut. On the surface, it’s a psychological horror about a Métis woman stalked by a grotesque creature. But personally, I think what makes this film stand out is its refusal to be just another monster movie. It’s a story about inheritance—not of wealth or land, but of trauma, curses, and the weight of history.
Beyond the Monster: A Creature of Intergenerational Pain
One thing that immediately stands out is the creature itself. Riedel describes it as a giant centipede with gnarled hands for a head—a design that’s both unique and deeply symbolic. What many people don’t realize is that this creature isn’t pulled from Métis folklore. Instead, it’s a creation born from Riedel’s desire to avoid tokenizing Indigenous traditions. In my opinion, this is a bold move. It’s easy to lean on existing mythologies for authenticity, but Riedel chose to craft something entirely new, using the creature as a metaphor for intergenerational trauma. The centipede represents the homeland, while the hands symbolize the passing down of pain. If you take a step back and think about it, this isn’t just a monster—it’s a living, breathing embodiment of the struggles Indigenous communities face.
A Film That Dares to Be Personal
What makes Ancestral Beasts particularly fascinating is Riedel’s own journey as a filmmaker. After years of documenting global issues, an elder challenged him: Why don’t you tell our stories? That moment of reckoning led to this film, and it’s clear that Riedel took it to heart. The nearly all-Indigenous cast and crew, the closed screening for elders and survivors of the Sixties Scoop—these aren’t just PR moves. They’re evidence of a filmmaker deeply committed to his community. From my perspective, this is what sets Ancestral Beasts apart. It’s not just a horror film; it’s a reclamation of narrative power.
The Curse of Inheritance: A Universal Theme
Riedel’s comment about curses struck me: What we inherit is not our fault, but we often allow those things to become our responsibility. This raises a deeper question: How do we break free from the cycles we’re born into? The film’s protagonist, Elyse, returns to her ancestral home to heal, only to be confronted by a creature that represents the very trauma she’s trying to escape. What this really suggests is that healing isn’t linear—it’s messy, painful, and often involves confronting the darkest parts of ourselves. Personally, I think this is a theme that resonates far beyond Indigenous communities. It’s a universal struggle, and that’s what makes Ancestral Beasts so compelling.
A New Wave of Indigenous Horror?
A detail that I find especially interesting is how Ancestral Beasts fits into the broader landscape of Indigenous storytelling. Indigenous filmmakers are increasingly using genre to explore complex themes, and horror, in particular, seems to be a perfect fit. It’s a genre that thrives on metaphor, and what better way to confront colonialism, trauma, and resilience than through the lens of fear? What many people don’t realize is that this isn’t just about scaring audiences—it’s about challenging them to think, to feel, and to understand.
What’s Next for Riedel?
Riedel’s next project, Nine Dying, sounds like a departure from Ancestral Beasts, but I suspect it’ll carry the same thematic weight. He describes it as ‘Saw’ meets ‘Squid Game’, but with a twist: it’s designed to make you feel closer to your neighbors. This raises a deeper question: Can horror be a force for connection? Personally, I’m intrigued. If Ancestral Beasts is any indication, Riedel is a filmmaker who knows how to balance darkness with hope, and I’m eager to see where he takes this next.
Final Thoughts: Why This Film Matters
Ancestral Beasts isn’t just a horror film—it’s a conversation starter. It forces us to confront the ghosts of the past, the weight of inheritance, and the power of storytelling. What this really suggests is that horror, at its best, isn’t just about scares; it’s about reflection. As someone who’s always been drawn to films that linger long after the credits roll, I think Ancestral Beasts is one of those rare works that will stay with you. It’s not just a film—it’s a reckoning. And in a world where so many stories feel disposable, that’s something worth celebrating.
