Nanny (2022)

Nanny is special because it treats horror not as a parade of shocks, but as a language for longing, exploitation, and the quiet terror of being unseen—turning a familiar New York setting into something dreamlike and unnervingly intimate. Nikyatu Jusu directs with striking confidence, letting water-soaked imagery and folkloric whispers seep into the frame until the atmosphere feels like it’s breathing alongside Aisha, and Anna Diop anchors it all with a performance so raw and watchful you can’t look away. The vibe is simmering, lyrical, and emotionally heavy, where dread builds from everyday indignities as much as from the visions that invade the night. If you want a clean, crowd-pleasing scare ride, this may feel too patient and mournful—but if you’re open to a haunting drama that uses horror to cut deeper, it’s absolutely worth your time.

Nanny is clearly aiming for an atmospheric, socially conscious horror-drama about immigrant sacrifice, exploitation, and the way grief can feel supernatural, and it often nails the mood. The problem is it’s more of a slow, simmering nightmare than a tightly told story, with folkloric imagery and haunting water visions that can feel powerful in the moment but not always fully connected in a satisfying way. If you’re expecting clear rules, big scares, or a sharp payoff, you may find the pacing draggy and the narrative threads a bit disjointed. Still, Anna Diop is compelling and the film’s best qualities are its emotional weight and eerie, dreamlike tone—just know you’re signing up for vibes and themes over plot mechanics.