There are two kinds of Philippine horror films: The genuinely terrifying ones that traumatize generations. The ones that feel like extended commercials for candles, rosaries, and old mansions with plumbing issues. Espantaho lands squarely in the second category, with the cinematic velocity of a funeral procession and the emotional intensity of a lukewarm cup of salabat. Directed by Chito S. Roño — a man who literally directed “Feng Shui,” a film so scary it gave mirrors a bad reputation — this one feels like he made it on three hours of sleep, one broken camera, and the promise of a buffet lunch if he finished shooting by 4 p.m. The movie opens with the death of Pabling, the family patriarch, who seems like the only person in this film with the decency to leave early. Monet (Judy Ann Santos), devastated by her father’s passing, immediately has a seizure and slips into a coma so she doesn’t have to watch the rest of the movie. Honestly? Relatable. While unconscious, she receives a cryptic warning from Pabling: Who is him? The entire first half is less supernatural horror and more a docudrama about traditional Filipino funeral rituals, complete with prayers, crying titas, and everyone looking exhausted in that very Pinoy “I haven’t slept in three days because someone died” way. This would be fine if the film were called Lamay: The Movie, but it’s supposed to be a horror film. Instead, we spend an hour watching people prepare food, gossip, cry, and slowly unravel their family drama like a teleserye with too many commercial breaks. Judy Ann gives the best performance she can considering she spends most of her scenes looking worried, confused, sweaty, or unconscious. By the middle of the movie she looks like she’s mentally bargaining with her agent. Rosa’s primary job is to glare, shout, and give meaningful stares so intense they could fry tilapia. LT acts with the urgency of someone who realized she could’ve been in a better movie but signed the contract already. As Pabling’s legal wife, Adele radiates the vibe of a rich tita who always insists on sitting at the head of the dining table even when all she contributes is passive-aggressive commentary. She doesn’t get many scares, but she does deliver premium side-eye. The entity haunting the house — “Him,” “Evil,” “Whatever” — is so inconsistently used that even he seems confused about what he’s supposed to be doing. Sometimes he’s threatening, sometimes he’s just wandering around like a bored extra who accidentally walked into the wrong set. The Lazatin-Henson-Katigbak Mansion is beautiful. Atmospheric. Cinematically perfect. Imagine having a mansion tailor-made for ghost stories… It’s like watching The Conjuring if the Warrens spent 80% of the runtime talking about who gets the china cabinet. Let’s be honest: Filipino audiences know horror. So when a film promises a supernatural scarecrow entity haunting a powerful, messy family, expectations are high. What we get instead: purple lighting shadows moving slightly someone screaming at the wrong time the demon appearing once every 40 minutes a child staring at walls like he’s buffering The scariest part of the movie is when someone drops a plate. Even the soundtrack seems confused — alternating between eerie, spooky tones and the kind of dramatic orchestra you hear in afternoon teleseryes when the rich tita slaps her daughter-in-law. The Lazatin-Henson-Katigbak family is basically a reality show waiting to happen. We’ve got: secret lovers half-siblings inheritance disputes a son as confused as the audience a mother barely holding it together an entire cast who seem like they’d rather fight each other than fight a demon Honestly, the demon should’ve left. The major plot doesn’t even kick in until the third act. 5% horror 10% crying 10% meaningful glances 25% extended conversations about nothing 50% slow walking around the mansion while holding a candle If Kurosawa’s Cloud is a thriller about burnout, and Talk to Me is about grief, Espantaho is about insomnia — the audience’s insomnia, specifically. When the truth finally emerges — the nature of “him,” the curse, the family’s buried secrets — the film rushes through the reveal like it’s late for its own premiere night. The demon shows up. Nothing is solved in a satisfying way. The biggest mystery is how a movie with such a great cast and budget looks like it was edited during a brownout. Espantaho had all the ingredients for greatness: Instead, we get a slow, uneven, tele-novela-horror mix where the supernatural threat feels like an afterthought, the scares are too polite, and the pacing is slower than a government office queue. If you want: beautiful Filipino mansion shots dramatic acting a reminder of how chaotic family gatherings can be You’ll have a decent time. If you want ACTUAL HORROR? You’re better off staring at your electric bill. At least that one will make you scream.
The Plot: Mostly Mourning, Occasionally Seizures, Rarely Coherence
“Don’t let him into the house.”
A demon?
A monster?
A random ex?
A meralco meter reader?
The script says, “Who cares, we’ll drag it out until the last 15 minutes anyway.”
The Cast: Talented Veterans Trying to Save a Limp Story
Judy Ann Santos as Monet
Lorna Tolentino as Rosa
Chanda Romero as Adele
The Scarecrow / “Him” / Evil Spirit / Agung Gede
The Mansion: Gorgeous, Haunted, and Poorly Explored
So naturally the film uses it like a tourism commercial:
lots of slow pans, wide shots, and not enough actual haunting.
then spending most of your runtime in rooms where nothing happens except family arguments about inheritance.
The Horror: Missing, Delayed, or Too Shy to Come Out
We grew up with folklore designed to make sure we never sleep again.
The Family Drama: More Chaotic Than the Supernatural Plot
Too much stress.
Not worth it.
The Pacing: A Masterclass in How to Stretch 20 Minutes Into Two Hours
Before that, we get:
The Finale: A Demon, a Reveal, and a Whole Lot of “Wait, That’s It?”
Chaos happens.
Someone screams.
Someone almost dies.
Someone probably regrets signing onto the project.
Then the movie ends abruptly, like it remembered the film festival screening time limit.
The scarecrow’s lore is confusing.
The motivations are vague.
And the tone shifts so fast you might get emotional whiplash.
Final Verdict: A Scarecrow With No Scares
a haunting mansion, powerhouse actresses, folklore potential, family drama, and Chito Roño at the helm.
