1
Tradition, Terror, and the Unseen Forces of Exhuma
Some movies don’t just tell stories—they pull you into an experience, shaking your senses and making you question the veil between the known and the unknown. Exhuma does exactly that, weaving a rich tapestry of horror, mysticism, and history in a way that lingers long after the credits roll. Unlike your typical horror flick, which thrives on predictable jump scares and cheap thrills, Exhuma chooses a more refined approach, delivering terror through atmosphere, silence, and a masterful understanding of unseen horrors. It’s not just a ghost story; it’s a chilling excavation of Korea’s spiritual traditions, its historical scars, and the eerie consequences of disturbing what should have been left untouched.
At its core, Exhuma follows a wealthy family in Los Angeles plagued by supernatural disturbances. Enter Hwa-rim (Kim Go-eun), a powerful young Mudang (shaman), and her apprentice Bong-gil (Lee Do-hyun). Their investigation leads them back to Korea, where they seek the expertise of renowned geomancer Sang-deok (Choi Min-sik) and undertaker Young-Geun (Yu Hae-jin). The cause of the disturbances? A family ancestor buried in a sinister location—one that calls out to the living with a phenomenon known as “Grave Calling.” When they unearth the burial site, they unknowingly unleash something far more malevolent than they ever anticipated.
What sets Exhuma apart is its ability to balance the ancient with the modern, creating a hypnotic dance between Korea’s deep-rooted shamanistic beliefs and the stark rationality of contemporary society. This clash of old and new is most evident in the contrast between the Mudang and the Onmyoji. While both are spiritual practitioners, the Mudang primarily focuses on appeasement and harmony—guiding spirits to peace and offering rituals of reconciliation. Onmyoji, on the other hand, stems from Japan’s esoteric cosmology and leans more toward exorcism, banishment, and, at times, the deliberate use of curses. Understanding this difference adds an extra layer of depth to Exhuma, as the film subtly critiques Korea’s historical subjugation under Japanese rule. It’s not just about spirits and graves—it’s about cultural erasure, the lingering effects of colonization, and reclaiming what was lost.
Visually, Exhuma is a masterclass in horror cinematography. It plays with darkness and reflections in ways that feel disturbingly intimate, leaving the audience constantly on edge. Spirits are never thrown at the screen with dramatic musical stingers; they appear briefly in mirrors, in the corner of a frame, or in the sheen of a polished surface. There’s no build-up to warn you—they simply exist, making their presence feel eerily close. The film’s use of muted tones and sudden bursts of fiery red further accentuates the contrast between tranquility and rage, peace and vengeance. And the sound design? Absolutely stellar. It understands the power of silence, allowing tension to creep in organically, punctuated only by the rhythmic chants and sharp percussions of Mudang rituals.
Kim Go-eun’s performance as Hwa-rim is nothing short of mesmerizing. She completely disappears into her role, embodying the essence of a Mudang with haunting authenticity. Her ritual dances are hypnotic, her presence commanding, and there’s an intensity in her eyes that makes it impossible to look away. There’s even a bit of chilling trivia—after one particularly powerful shamanic ritual scene, the production team reportedly brought in a real-life shaman to counteract any unintended spiritual disturbances. That’s the level of immersion we’re talking about. Lee Do-hyun, playing her apprentice, impresses with his ability to seamlessly shift between his normal self and moments of possession, making his transformation utterly believable. Meanwhile, Choi Min-sik and Yu Hae-jin bring a grounded gravitas to the film, rounding out a phenomenal ensemble cast.
But for all its brilliance, Exhuma isn’t without flaws. Its first half is near-perfect, utilizing psychological terror in a way that keeps you at the edge of your seat, never quite sure if what you’re seeing is real or imagined. The second half, however, takes a slight tonal shift, moving from eerie atmospheric horror to a more conventional “face-the-demon” climax. While this progression makes sense narratively, the transition feels a bit abrupt, and some might find the direct confrontation with evil less effective than the earlier subtle scares. That said, it never derails the film’s impact, only slightly altering its flavor.
Another potential hurdle is the film’s reliance on occult themes deeply rooted in Korean and Japanese culture. For international audiences unfamiliar with the historical and spiritual context, some nuances may be lost. But even without that background knowledge, Exhuma still manages to captivate, which speaks volumes about its execution.
Ultimately, Exhuma is more than just a horror film—it’s a love letter to Korea’s shamanistic heritage, a critique of historical injustices, and a meticulously crafted exploration of fear, both seen and unseen. It doesn’t just aim to scare you; it aims to make you think, to make you feel the weight of generations past pressing against the present. It’s unsettling, awe-inspiring, and, by the end, oddly enlightening. If you have even the slightest interest in the occult, in history, or in horror that goes beyond cheap thrills, Exhuma is an absolute must-watch.
Score: 8.5/10 - Great, Worth Watching 🔥
Strong performances, engaging storytelling, and solid execution. Maybe a few flaws here and there, but overall, a drama that delivers and is worth the time.
At its core, Exhuma follows a wealthy family in Los Angeles plagued by supernatural disturbances. Enter Hwa-rim (Kim Go-eun), a powerful young Mudang (shaman), and her apprentice Bong-gil (Lee Do-hyun). Their investigation leads them back to Korea, where they seek the expertise of renowned geomancer Sang-deok (Choi Min-sik) and undertaker Young-Geun (Yu Hae-jin). The cause of the disturbances? A family ancestor buried in a sinister location—one that calls out to the living with a phenomenon known as “Grave Calling.” When they unearth the burial site, they unknowingly unleash something far more malevolent than they ever anticipated.
What sets Exhuma apart is its ability to balance the ancient with the modern, creating a hypnotic dance between Korea’s deep-rooted shamanistic beliefs and the stark rationality of contemporary society. This clash of old and new is most evident in the contrast between the Mudang and the Onmyoji. While both are spiritual practitioners, the Mudang primarily focuses on appeasement and harmony—guiding spirits to peace and offering rituals of reconciliation. Onmyoji, on the other hand, stems from Japan’s esoteric cosmology and leans more toward exorcism, banishment, and, at times, the deliberate use of curses. Understanding this difference adds an extra layer of depth to Exhuma, as the film subtly critiques Korea’s historical subjugation under Japanese rule. It’s not just about spirits and graves—it’s about cultural erasure, the lingering effects of colonization, and reclaiming what was lost.
Visually, Exhuma is a masterclass in horror cinematography. It plays with darkness and reflections in ways that feel disturbingly intimate, leaving the audience constantly on edge. Spirits are never thrown at the screen with dramatic musical stingers; they appear briefly in mirrors, in the corner of a frame, or in the sheen of a polished surface. There’s no build-up to warn you—they simply exist, making their presence feel eerily close. The film’s use of muted tones and sudden bursts of fiery red further accentuates the contrast between tranquility and rage, peace and vengeance. And the sound design? Absolutely stellar. It understands the power of silence, allowing tension to creep in organically, punctuated only by the rhythmic chants and sharp percussions of Mudang rituals.
Kim Go-eun’s performance as Hwa-rim is nothing short of mesmerizing. She completely disappears into her role, embodying the essence of a Mudang with haunting authenticity. Her ritual dances are hypnotic, her presence commanding, and there’s an intensity in her eyes that makes it impossible to look away. There’s even a bit of chilling trivia—after one particularly powerful shamanic ritual scene, the production team reportedly brought in a real-life shaman to counteract any unintended spiritual disturbances. That’s the level of immersion we’re talking about. Lee Do-hyun, playing her apprentice, impresses with his ability to seamlessly shift between his normal self and moments of possession, making his transformation utterly believable. Meanwhile, Choi Min-sik and Yu Hae-jin bring a grounded gravitas to the film, rounding out a phenomenal ensemble cast.
But for all its brilliance, Exhuma isn’t without flaws. Its first half is near-perfect, utilizing psychological terror in a way that keeps you at the edge of your seat, never quite sure if what you’re seeing is real or imagined. The second half, however, takes a slight tonal shift, moving from eerie atmospheric horror to a more conventional “face-the-demon” climax. While this progression makes sense narratively, the transition feels a bit abrupt, and some might find the direct confrontation with evil less effective than the earlier subtle scares. That said, it never derails the film’s impact, only slightly altering its flavor.
Another potential hurdle is the film’s reliance on occult themes deeply rooted in Korean and Japanese culture. For international audiences unfamiliar with the historical and spiritual context, some nuances may be lost. But even without that background knowledge, Exhuma still manages to captivate, which speaks volumes about its execution.
Ultimately, Exhuma is more than just a horror film—it’s a love letter to Korea’s shamanistic heritage, a critique of historical injustices, and a meticulously crafted exploration of fear, both seen and unseen. It doesn’t just aim to scare you; it aims to make you think, to make you feel the weight of generations past pressing against the present. It’s unsettling, awe-inspiring, and, by the end, oddly enlightening. If you have even the slightest interest in the occult, in history, or in horror that goes beyond cheap thrills, Exhuma is an absolute must-watch.
Score: 8.5/10 - Great, Worth Watching 🔥
Strong performances, engaging storytelling, and solid execution. Maybe a few flaws here and there, but overall, a drama that delivers and is worth the time.
Was this review helpful to you?
