The Wolf House

In a remote stretch of Chilean forest, a young woman breaks away from the rigid confines of a German‑rooted religious colony, seeking freedom from the weight of expectation. María carries the restless yearning of someone who has spent too long under watchful eyes, and her flight into the woods thrusts her into an environment that feels both eerily silent and subtly alive. The landscape itself seems to breathe with a quiet tension, its towering trees and mist‑shrouded paths echoing the inner turbulence of a soul in exile.

She discovers an abandoned house that appears almost forgotten by time, its walls holding a strange, almost sentient quality. Within its crumbling rooms reside two pigs, the only other inhabitants, whose presence hints at an uncanny companionship that blurs the line between the familiar and the surreal. The house begins to respond to María’s shifting emotions, reshaping itself into a reflection of her hopes and fears, while an unseen presence—referred to only as the Wolf— lingers at the edge of the clearing, a silent guardian or a looming threat depending on the moment.

The film settles into a dream‑like rhythm, where reality constantly warps and the mundane becomes portentous. A sense of dread permeates the isolation, as everyday objects and surroundings transform in ways that echo the characters’ inner states. The tone is simultaneously haunting and lyrical, inviting the audience to linger in the unsettling beauty of a place where humanity and animality, memory and imagination, intermingle. As María navigates this shifting sanctuary, the story unfolds as a meditation on escape, identity, and the fragile borders between the cages we leave behind and the ones we carry within.

Last Updated: August 10, 2025 at 01:18