Some horror movies develop intentionally, steadily enhancing their themes and concepts. Conversely, Jaume Collet-Serra’s The Woman in the Yard unravels unexpectedly. What starts as a concentrated, albeit somewhat inconsistent, contemporary folk horror narrative rapidly expands into a tumultuous blend of several films, awkwardly merged together, culminating in a conclusion that feels more jarring than impactful.

Ironically, the film’s visual finesse only accentuates its storytelling flaws. The Woman in the Yard is frequently stunning to behold, especially during a clever mid-film sequence that innovatively manipulates light and shadow. Collet-Serra’s direction, in conjunction with cinematographer Pawel Pogorzelski’s acute sense of contrast and composition, provides hints of what might have been a modern horror masterpiece — provided the remainder of the film had lived up to its visual aspirations.

Instead, the film presents a well-performed family drama buried under a mound of horror clichés, each increasingly disjointed from the others. Sam Stefanak’s screenplay takes a serious tone, but its straightforward approach conflicts with the increasingly strange supernatural components, resulting in a disorienting and often perplexing experience.

What is The Woman in the Yard truly about?

At its core, The Woman in the Yard is a tale of grief — and, indeed, that’s a reason to stay engaged. The film lays this theme bare without obscuring it in metaphor or subtext. It commences with Ramona (Danielle Deadwyler), a newly widowed woman, awakening in her rural Georgia residence, still processing the car accident that claimed her husband, David (Russell Hornsby). With no power and growing bills, Ramona grapples with caring for her two kids: teenage son Taylor (Peyton Jackson) and young daughter Annie (Estella Kahiha). They attempt to assist her, even if it involves crafting meals from Doritos and eggs.

In these initial moments, Collet-Serra’s direction shines with its realism. The family’s sorrow is vividly tangible, particularly in subtle scenes like Ramona gazing at an unoccupied chair at the dinner table. Flashbacks and home videos of David contribute emotional depth, and Deadwyler’s performance grounds the film with authenticity and subtlety.

Then, a mysterious woman in a black veil (Okwui Okpokwasili) appears, silently positioned at the edge of the family’s yard. With no working phones and no neighbors around, Ramona is faced with the choice to confront this unsettling visitor or to ignore her. It presents a gripping setup — one that hints at a slow-burn psychological horror. Unfortunately, the film strays from that trajectory.

So… what is The Woman in the Yard really about?

As twilight descends, the woman’s shadow encroaches upon the house, and the film’s visual storytelling grows more expressive. Collet-Serra and Pogorzelski transform the yard into a surreal conflict zone of light and dark, where shadows act in bizarre, occasionally physical ways. These sequences are authentically disquieting and visually creative.

However, the film goes beyond that. Rather than allowing the woman’s presence to remain mysterious and threatening, the narrative starts piling on supernatural elements at a bewildering speed. The veiled woman transitions from quiet onlooker to prophet, abductor, animal slayer, and even a demon from the past. She evolves into a catch-all representation for every trauma and fear the film can conjure, which diminishes her effectiveness and confuses the storyline.

At first, she appears to be a trigger for the family’s emotional reckoning, compelling them to face secrets about David’s demise. But the film swiftly ventures into metaphysical realms — possession, alternate realities, time loops, and an awkward metaphor for mental illness all make their entrance. These aspects are introduced so swiftly and with so little foundation that they resemble concepts from completely separate films.

The Woman in the Yard completely loses its sense of direction.

Strong performances can sometimes rescue a struggling horror film, and The Woman in the Yard certainly features them. Deadwyler infuses Ramona with depth and fragility, while Okpokwasili is a haunting figure even with minimal dialogue. Jackson also stands out as Taylor, though much of his dialogue revolves around clarifying plot inconsistencies — why they can’t summon help, why they can’t depart, etc.

Yet, even the finest acting cannot offset a plot that continually changes direction unexpectedly. The film’s internal consistency wavers, and each new disclosure only leads to more queries. The principles governing the woman’s powers — such as her manipulation of shadows — are swiftly discarded in favor of new, uncharted abilities. The outcome is a succession of frenzied chase sequences that lack suspense since neither the characters nor the audience comprehend what’s occurring.

The woman’s symbolism initially resonates. Her funeral attire and mute presence make her a frightening manifestation of death and sorrow. However, by the film’s concluding act, she is burdened with conflicting interpretations.