Mara

In the quiet suburbs where ordinary lives unfold, a sudden, terrifying rupture forces a respected criminal psychologist to confront the unthinkable. Kate Fuller is called in to evaluate a mother, Helena, whose night‑time outburst suggests a deep, hidden danger, while the child Sophie insists that an ancient sleep demon known as Mara is behind the tragedy. The case quickly becomes more than a routine assessment; it drags the rational world of forensic psychology into a shadowy realm where folklore and modern fear intersect.

The film’s atmosphere hangs heavy with the unsettling sensations of sleep paralysis—the hollow, weightless dread that pins victims to their beds while an unseen presence watches. In this world, the legend of Mara is whispered in support groups and old journals, a malign force said to prey on the most vulnerable moments of unconsciousness. The tone is a slow‑burning horror, blending clinical scrutiny with mounting supernatural unease, and it constantly teeters between skeptical inquiry and the palpable pull of something far older than any courtroom testimony.

As Kate delves deeper, she finds herself surrounded by a cast of uneasy allies: a determined detective, McCarthy, who insists on tangible evidence; a haunted support‑group leader, Dr. Ellis, who bridges science and myth; and a handful of other sufferers who have felt the same suffocating presence. Their interactions are charged with a mix of professional duty, personal guilt, and an almost instinctual fear of what lies beyond waking consciousness. The story builds a relentless sense of dread, inviting viewers to wonder whether the darkness lurking in the night is a creation of the mind or an ancient evil waiting for the next moment of vulnerability.

Last Updated: August 10, 2025 at 02:22