Umma (2022)

Umma works best as a haunting mood piece: a quiet farm, an even quieter mother-daughter bond, and the kind of dread that seeps in through old wounds rather than jump-scare theatrics. Sandra Oh gives the film its pulse, turning Amanda’s fear of becoming her own mother into something intimate, raw, and unsettling, while Iris K. Shim’s debut direction keeps the atmosphere taut and personal. The horror here is as much about identity and inherited pain as it is about the supernatural, and that blend gives the story a lingering emotional aftertaste. If you want relentless shocks, this may feel restrained, but if you’re drawn to PG-13 horror with real themes and a strong central performance, it’s absolutely worth your time.

Umma is clearly aiming for a thoughtful, culturally rooted horror story about generational trauma and the fear of becoming your parent, and Sandra Oh brings enough grounded emotion to make that intention feel sincere. The problem is the movie leans heavily on familiar PG-13 horror beats and predictable turns, so the “mystery” and scares rarely build real tension or surprise. The pacing and thin character development can make it feel like a strong premise stretched into a feature without the depth or dread it needs. If you want intense, inventive horror, you’ll likely be underwhelmed; if you’re okay with a mild, message-forward supernatural drama with a few creepy images, it may still be worth a watch.