His House

In a quiet English suburb, a young couple arrives with the weight of a war‑torn homeland clinging to them. Bol and Rial have survived a perilous journey from South Sudan, leaving behind a shattered life and the faint echo of a lost child. Granted probationary asylum, they step into a modest house on the town’s edge, its peeling walls and cramped rooms offering little comfort but the promise of a fresh start.

The film settles into a tense, slow‑burn atmosphere where everyday realities—bureaucratic scrutiny, hostile neighbours, and the subtle push to assimilate—press against the couple’s lingering grief. Bol tries to blend into British culture, mimicking local customs with earnest, sometimes clumsy effort, while Rial clings to the symbols of her heritage, finding solace in the familiar textures of her past. Their contrasting approaches create a delicate balance, a dance between adaptation and remembrance that defines their uneasy new existence.

Beneath the mundane routine, an unsettling feeling begins to seep through the house’s thin walls. Shadows lengthen, whispers linger, and the once‑ordinary rooms seem to hold memories that refuse to stay buried. The presence is hinted at rather than named—a lingering dread that suggests the horrors they escaped have followed them, blurring the line between reality and nightmarish recollection. This atmospheric tension invites the audience to wonder whether the true threat lies outside the door or within the couple’s own haunted minds.

As Bol and Rial navigate the constraints of their asylum status and the quiet hostility of their new community, the film maintains a hauntingly intimate tone. The story is less about external monsters than about the internal specters of trauma, cultural displacement, and the fragile hope that a safe home might still be within reach.

Last Updated: August 10, 2025 at 01:05