May the Devil Take You

In a remote corner of Indonesia, a crumbling family villa stands as a mute witness to generations of quiet decay. The house, once a symbol of prosperity, now watches over overgrown gardens and dim, echo‑filled corridors, its walls humming with an unspoken history that has long been left to rust. A subtle dread lingers in the air, as if the very timber remembers secrets it was never meant to keep. The atmosphere is thick with an elegant but oppressive elegance, where every creak and shadow hints at something far older than the living occupants.

When the news of her father’s sudden, inexplicable illness reaches her, Alfie returns to the estate she left behind, torn between familial duty and an uneasy curiosity. Her father, Lesmana, once a formidable figure, now lies vulnerable, his condition casting a pall over the family’s fragile unity. Joining them are the enigmatic stepmother Laksmi, whose presence adds a layer of strained politeness, and a handful of half‑siblings who bear their own quiet resentments. Their relationships, built on admiration, envy, and unspoken grievances, set the stage for a tense gathering that feels as fragile as the old wooden floors beneath their feet.

The film settles into a tone that blends slow‑burning dread with moments of uneasy calm, letting the villa’s oppressive silence speak louder than any scream. As Alfie begins to peel back layers of the house’s past, she encounters whispers of a legacy tainted by darkness—an inherited burden that seems to pulse through the very foundations. The audience is drawn into a world where the line between memory and malevolence blurs, and where every discovery beckons deeper into an unsettling mystery that threatens both the living and the forgotten.

Last Updated: August 10, 2025 at 02:12