The Woman in the Yard

Despite being marketed as another Blumhouse-backed supernatural thriller, “The Woman in the Yard,” directed by Jaume Collet-Serra, turns out to be a different kind of beast—one more interested in the quiet horrors of grief than in jump scares or demonic possessions. 

It’s a film that places emotional trauma front and center, where specters are more psychological than paranormal. And while that ambition is admirable, the execution doesn’t quite land as powerfully as intended.

At its core, the film is a meditation on loss—specifically the loss of a father and husband—and how the void left behind can twist reality for those left behind. 

Collet-Serra crafts a slow-burn atmosphere that, in its early stages, works rather effectively. The tension is palpable in the first act, built through eerie visuals and a handful of genuinely unsettling moments that linger in the back of your mind. 

I walked into the screening with little knowledge (and even less expectation), and I’ll admit—I was surprised by how well the film initially hooked me.

But the early promise begins to unravel as the story moves into its latter half. What starts as a subtle, character-driven exploration of guilt and depression eventually dissolves into a muddled climax of overwrought imagery and hollow symbolism. 

Sam Stefanek’s screenplay leans too heavily on its metaphors, spelling out the emotional undercurrents so blatantly that it leaves little room for viewer interpretation. Once the film starts explaining itself, it loses much of the quiet power it had initially built.

The final 30–40 minutes are where things really begin to fall apart. The film devolves into a series of disjointed scenes—visually striking, yes, but emotionally weightless. 

It’s as if Collet-Serra and Stefanek felt compelled to deliver a “big” ending, even if it didn’t naturally emerge from the story. Instead of a crescendo, we get a collection of ideas that feel lifted from the reject pile of better scripts, culminating in a conclusion that aims for catharsis but barely registers.

It’s a shame, because there’s a lot of potential buried in here. The performances are earnest, and the film clearly aspires to be more than just genre fodder. But despite those ambitions, “The Woman in the Yard” never fully coalesces into something meaningful. It’s not a bad film by any means—it’s just an uneven one.

For those expecting typical Blumhouse fare, this might feel like a bait-and-switch. And for those hoping for a deep, nuanced portrait of grief? It only gets halfway there. 

Still, on a rainy Sunday afternoon, when expectations are low and you’re open to a film that tries (even if it fails), “The Woman in the Yard” might just be worth a watch. 

Just don’t expect it to haunt you after the credits roll.