The First All-Female Cast—And That’s the Only Achievement
There’s something historic about Seya, the 2018 Sri Lankan horror film that proudly bills itself as the country’s first movie with an all-female cast. It’s a bold concept: 36 actresses, one ghost, and apparently zero people to tell the director “maybe we shouldn’t.”
Written and directed by Kalyana Chandrasekara, Seya is less a film and more a cautionary tale about what happens when you confuse quantity with quality. Yes, it’s an all-women ensemble—but that doesn’t mean it needs to feel like a haunted PTA meeting stretched to two hours.
It’s been said that behind every great film is a great script. Seya disproves that entirely, boldly marching into cinemas armed with nothing but clichés, confusing dialogue, and jump scares that could be outsmarted by a houseplant.
The Setup: Ghosts, Girls, and Grief—Oh My
The film opens with a somber graveyard scene, as a woman lays flowers on a tombstone. That’s the high point. From there, we spiral into an extended flashback where a group of ambitious film students—because of course they’re film students—head to the Sri Lankan hill country to shoot their project.
They meet a mysterious woman named Maduka (Menik Wijewardena), who claims her car broke down. Because no one in this movie has ever seen a horror film, they immediately invite her to stay with them in their villa. She’s charming, quiet, and possibly undead, which, as far as red flags go, is somewhere between “she doesn’t have a reflection” and “she only eats air.”
The group soon learns that Maduka looks suspiciously like a girl named Krishani Mendis, who died exactly one year ago. Cue the dramatic newspaper clipping and a chorus of collective gasps.
This revelation might have been chilling, if it weren’t presented like a telenovela version of Scooby-Doo.
The Ghost: Krishani Mendis, Patron Saint of Overacting
Krishani Mendis, aka Maduka, is the ghostly heart of this movie—or at least she’s supposed to be. Instead, she’s more like the confused soul of a woman who accidentally wandered into the wrong film set and decided to commit to the bit.
She’s out for revenge against Nimesha, her sister, who murdered her over a shared boyfriend (because hell hath no fury like a plot written by a man in the 1990s). Rather than just haunt Nimesha directly, Krishani decides to take the scenic route—possessing Nirasha, Nimesha’s other sister, and forcing her to reenact the murder in slow-motion poetic justice.
If you’re lost already, don’t worry. So were the editors, the camera crew, and possibly the ghost herself.
Krishani’s haunting powers include standing in doorways, whispering cryptic nonsense, and occasionally possessing people just to throw furniture. Her presence is supposed to inspire dread. Mostly, it inspires confusion.
The Living: A Soap Opera With Fog Machines
Udari Perera plays Nirasha, the girl who gets possessed by Krishani’s spirit. Perera’s performance oscillates between wide-eyed innocence and full-blown exorcism face. One minute she’s writing film scripts with her friends; the next, she’s stabbing her mother in the head because that’s what you do when you’re channeling an angry ghost and bad dialogue.
Her sister Nimesha (Nirosha Maithree) spends most of the film frowning into the middle distance, which the director seems to think qualifies as emotional depth.
Then there’s Inspector Waruni, played by Dilhani Ekanayake, who arrives halfway through the film like a human aspirin for our collective headache. Waruni’s job is to “solve” the case, which in this context means she stares at photos, nods meaningfully, and repeats plot points the audience already knows.
There are so many side characters—maids, teachers, nurses, yoga instructors—that the film occasionally feels like a bizarre female-only boarding school where everyone’s terrible at keeping secrets.
The all-women cast is certainly impressive on paper, but in practice, it feels like a chaotic ensemble improv session where no one remembered to bring a script.
The Mystery: Murder, Possession, and the Dumbest Plan Ever
The “twist” of Seya is that Krishani’s death wasn’t a suicide—it was murder. Her sister Nimesha killed her over a man, and the ghost has returned for vengeance. Pretty standard horror territory, right?
But the way this revelation unfolds is baffling. Inspector Waruni pieces everything together using a combination of hearsay, hallucinations, and pure narrative luck. At one point, she discovers the “truth” because she happens to glance at a photograph in a random house. It’s like CSI: Sri Lanka, except the evidence is delivered by ghosts and exposition dumps.
The final confrontation sees Nirasha (possessed by Krishani) poisoning and shoving Nimesha off a cliff—the same way Krishani died. It’s poetic, it’s violent, and it’s about as suspenseful as watching someone butter toast.
The camera lingers as Nimesha tumbles off the cliff in glorious low-budget slow motion, and Krishani’s spirit finally leaves Nirasha’s body. Presumably to find another movie that makes more sense.
The Horror: Jump Scares on a Shoestring
The scariest part of Seya isn’t the ghost—it’s the production value. The special effects look like they were rendered on Windows 98, and the sound design is so inconsistent that sometimes the ghosts arrive before the music cue.
Every attempted scare relies on the holy trinity of cheap horror: dim lighting, echoing footsteps, and someone turning around too slowly. The result isn’t frightening so much as unintentionally hilarious.
At one point, Krishani’s ghost appears behind a curtain like she’s auditioning for a detergent commercial. Another scene involves furniture moving by itself, but it’s so poorly edited you half expect to see the stagehand doing the pushing.
It’s hard to fear evil when it looks like it’s running on a tight deadline and a tighter budget.
The Themes: Sisterhood, Betrayal, and Possibly Hypothermia
To its credit, Seya tries to say something meaningful about sisterhood and jealousy—but those themes get buried under layers of melodrama. Every emotional moment is drowned in slow music, fog, and overwrought dialogue.
You can practically feel the movie trying to be profound as characters sob about destiny and karma while being stalked by what looks like a goth party favor.
Even the setting—beautiful Sri Lankan hill country—could have elevated the film if it weren’t filmed like a travel brochure for “Haunted Airbnb Experiences.”
The Direction: Chaos Behind the Camera
Director Kalyana Chandrasekara clearly had big ambitions: a female-led cast, a gothic setting, and a classic revenge ghost story. Unfortunately, ambition doesn’t equal coherence.
Scenes drag on long after the tension is gone, characters vanish mid-conversation, and the editing feels like it was done by someone possessed by a caffeine demon. The dialogue swings between melodrama and unintelligible exposition, like a dubbed soap opera played backwards.
The pacing is so inconsistent that by the 90-minute mark, you’ll start sympathizing with the ghost—because at least shegot to leave early.
The Music: Ghostly Elevator Tunes
Sarath Wickrama’s score deserves a special mention, if only because it refuses to match the mood of the scenes it accompanies. Heartfelt moments are scored like horror scenes, and actual horror scenes sound like rejected Disney ballads.
If the film is a rollercoaster, the music is the guy who forgot to put on his seatbelt.
Final Verdict: History Made, Patience Lost
Yes, Seya deserves credit for its all-female cast—that’s a milestone worth celebrating. Unfortunately, the film itself plays like a supernatural group project where everyone got an “A” for effort and an “F” for execution.
It’s ambitious but incoherent, spooky but silly, and feminist in theory but exhausting in practice. The ghost might get her revenge, but the audience deserves compensation.
Final Score: 1.5 out of 5 Haunted Lipsticks
If you’re looking for a groundbreaking horror film, Seya breaks new ground only in how far it stretches your patience. It’s a movie where every scream feels earned—not by the characters, but by you, the viewer, trying to survive until the credits roll.
