Some films terrify you with ghosts. Some films terrify you with monsters. And then there’s Karnal, which terrifies you with… two straight hours of people screaming at each other while everything else either burns, bleeds, or collapses. This is Marilou Diaz-Abaya’s feminist horror-drama entry from the Philippines, a film so heavy with metaphors it should come with a chiropractor.
On paper, it’s about newlyweds moving into a cursed small town. In practice, it’s like being chained to a chair while someone slowly reads you their family trauma, occasionally throwing in incest, rape, and parricide just to keep you awake. It’s the kind of movie where you leave the theater not shaken but exhausted—like you’ve been in Mulawin yourself, dodging machetes and wondering if anyone in this godforsaken village has ever cracked a smile.
The Town Next Door to Hell
Mulawin, the setting, is described by the narrator as “a step ahead of Hell.” And for once, the film doesn’t exaggerate. Mulawin is a wasteland where the crops are on fire, the men are tyrants, and the women exist solely to endure suffering until their faces become one long sigh.
You’d think a movie advertised as horror might actually scare you with something supernatural. Instead, the horror here is life itself, which, yes, is scary, but also unbearably tedious. There’s no monster hiding in the woods—just Gusting, the landowner and resident pervert, whose idea of fun is leering at his son’s wife because she looks like his dead wife. Subtle, right?
When your villain is less Dracula and more “horny old man with unresolved Oedipus issues,” you know you’re in for an evening of uncomfortable squirming.
Daddy Issues, The Movie
Let’s be clear: Gusting (Vic Silayan) is the gravitational center of this cinematic black hole. He sees Puring, his daughter-in-law, and immediately decides she’s his reincarnated spouse. Instead of calling a psychiatrist, he tries to bed her. Meanwhile, Narcing (Phillip Salvador), the son, reacts by turning into a jealous tyrant himself. Romantic honeymoon this ain’t—it’s a Jerry Springer episode set in 1930s rural Philippines.
There’s no real suspense here. We know from minute ten that Gusting is going to push things too far, Narcing is going to snap, and somebody’s blood is going to spill. Sure enough, Narcing eventually kills his father, proving once again that the family that slays together stays together—in prison.
Puring: Bride, Mother, Rumor, Myth
Puring (Cecille Castillo) is supposed to be our tragic heroine. She marries Narcing, moves to Mulawin, and is immediately thrown into the meat grinder of patriarchal doom. By act three, she’s given birth to a “demonic” child, buried said child in burning fields (because symbolism), watched her husband get dragged around like a ragdoll by cops, and seen him slit his throat in jail.
The narrator then tells us that after all this, Puring either became (a) a nun, (b) a prostitute for Americans, or (c) a cautionary tale whispered in bars. The film doesn’t bother to pick one—it just shrugs and goes, “Eh, maybe all of them. Who knows?” That’s not ambiguity. That’s narrative cowardice.
The Narrator Who Won’t Shut Up
Speaking of cowardice, nothing says “we lost control of our story” like slapping a narrator on top of it. Karnal uses a middle-aged woman’s voice to tell us, constantly, that the town is Hell, the people are doomed, and everyone’s miserable. If you missed that from the endless rape, incest, and parricide, don’t worry—she’ll remind you every ten minutes.
Her commentary feels less like narration and more like a live Yelp review of Mulawin: “One star, do not recommend, abusive men and burning fields everywhere.”
Ryan Cayabyab’s Score: A Funeral That Never Ends
Ryan Cayabyab is a brilliant composer, but here his score works overtime, pounding the misery into your skull. Strings wail, drums thud, and by the second hour you’d swear your own life is being orchestrated into oblivion. If you’ve ever wanted to know what depression sounds like in surround sound, Karnal delivers.
The Horror of Heavy-Handed Symbolism
Everything in Karnal screams metaphor. Burning fields? That’s the country under Martial Law. Gusting’s tyranny? That’s dictatorship. Puring’s fall? That’s the plight of women. Subtlety? That’s nowhere to be found.
It’s as though Diaz-Abaya didn’t trust her audience to get the point unless she hammered it into their skulls with a mallet. Imagine being told “life is suffering” by someone standing in front of a literal burning cross while violinists shriek in the background. After two hours, you’re not enlightened—you’re numb.
Oscar Entry, Oscar Exit
The Philippines submitted Karnal for the 57th Academy Awards. The Academy took one look and said, “No, thank you.” Frankly, I don’t blame them. This is less a movie and more a national endurance test. If you screened this for prisoners in Guantanamo, Amnesty International would get involved.
Restoration, Because Misery Deserves HD
In 2015, ABS-CBN proudly restored Karnal in HD. Because nothing says “national cinema treasure” like making sure you can see every bead of sweat as Gusting paws at his daughter-in-law. Finally, you can stream incest and parricide in crisp digital clarity. Progress.
Performances: Great Acting, No Fun
To be fair, the cast commits. Phillip Salvador sells Narcing’s spiral into madness. Cecille Castillo cries with Olympic stamina. Vic Silayan radiates sleaze so effectively you want to disinfect your TV. But great acting in service of unrelenting misery is like putting caviar on a cockroach—it doesn’t make the experience any more palatable.
Watching Karnal: A Step Beyond Boredom
The real horror isn’t incest, violence, or parricide—it’s how Karnal makes two hours feel like two decades. By the end, you don’t care what happens to anyone. Narcing kills Gusting? Fine. Puring buries her baby? Sure. Narcing slits his throat? Great, maybe that means credits are rolling soon.
This is a film where the audience doesn’t root for survival—they root for the runtime to end.
Final Thoughts: Of the Flesh, Of the Nerves
Karnal wants to be a feminist howl against patriarchy and dictatorship. What it actually is, is a cinematic bludgeon—important, maybe, but about as enjoyable as being waterboarded with holy water.
If you’re a film scholar, watch it. If you’re a masochist, watch it twice. But if you’re a regular human being who just wants a horror movie, you’d be better off rewatching A Night to Dismember—at least that one’s bad in a funny way. Karnal is just bad in a way that makes you question your own will to live.
