“Open Wide and Say ‘Why?’”
The Haunting of Helena is proof that not every childhood myth deserves a horror adaptation. Some legends—like the Tooth Fairy—should remain confined to the realm of sparkly pillows and dental hygiene. But director Christian Bisceglia clearly looked at the concept and thought, “What if the Tooth Fairy was actually a mosquito-loving corpse with boundary issues?”
The result is a film that manages to be both absurdly grim and unintentionally hilarious—a supernatural melodrama that bites off far more than it can chew (pun very much intended).
This is a movie that takes a child’s rite of passage—losing a baby tooth—and turns it into an existential crisis about Italian ghosts, bad parenting, and dental trauma. It’s like The Babadook if it were written during a root canal.
The Setup: Divorce, Dentures, and Doom
Sophia (Harriet MacMasters-Green) is a recently divorced college professor trying to rebuild her life in Italy with her daughter, Helena (Sabrina Jolie Perez). They’re doing that classic horror-movie thing where they move into a disturbingly cheap apartment with a dark history. You know, the kind of place where the realtor says “It has character” and you can practically hear the walls whispering, “Get out.”
Their bad luck begins with a car crash—because in horror movies, the universe always has a flair for symbolism. Helena loses her first tooth that same day, which is apparently the supernatural equivalent of lighting a Bat-Signal for demons with dental fetishes.
Soon after, Helena starts having ghostly visions. She talks to an invisible friend who lives in a closet, which is always a red flag—unless you’re in Monsters, Inc., in which case it’s adorable. Sophia, however, doesn’t think to move or call an exorcist. Instead, she does what any academic protagonist would do: she starts doing research.
Through a few conveniently placed old men and dusty files, Sophia learns that their apartment once housed a Fascist-era lunatic who tortured his wife by pulling out her teeth one by one and then locking her in a closet to die. Charming! Italian real estate really comes with everything—marble floors, balcony views, and murder closets.
The Tooth Fairy Who Hates You
It turns out that Helena’s “imaginary friend” is the ghost of the toothless wife, a vengeful spirit who clearly didn’t have dental insurance. This spectral woman appears whenever someone loses a tooth and starts collecting molars like Pokémon cards. She doesn’t sneak money under pillows—she sneaks into your soul and makes you regret brushing.
Helena, poor thing, becomes obsessed. She starts buying teeth from her classmates, claiming she has to offer them to “the Tooth Fairy.” At this point, her school should’ve called the Vatican, not a parent-teacher meeting. Instead, one concerned teacher investigates and gets attacked by—wait for it—a swarm of mosquitoes. Yes, mosquitoes. Because apparently, the ghost has diversified her haunting tactics.
Nothing says terror like malaria.
The elderly man upstairs warns Sophia to leave before things get worse, but like every protagonist in every haunted-apartment movie, she refuses. She probably tells herself, “Ghosts aren’t real,” right before the undead dental patient shows up for her nightly gnaw.
Act Two: Dentistry Meets Insanity
Eventually, the ghost gets more aggressive, proving that oral hygiene is no defense against evil. Sophia and Helena are attacked by the ghost, and in an inspired act of maternal improvisation, Sophia pelts her with teeth.
That’s right—she throws teeth at the ghost. Somewhere, Sigmund Freud is rolling in his grave, clutching his own molars in sympathy.
They manage to escape, and the movie jumps ahead eighteen months. Helena is now institutionalized, catatonic, and probably being billed for psychiatric care that doesn’t include ghost repellent. Her father returns to Italy to take over parenting duties, though he’s quickly reminded that family reunions never go well in horror films.
In one of the film’s more jaw-droppingly ridiculous scenes, bloody teeth start raining from the ceiling of Helena’s room, only to disappear moments later. This isn’t metaphorical—this is literal raining teeth. If there’s a dental apocalypse movie waiting to happen, The Haunting of Helena has already cornered the weather effects department.
Then, as if things weren’t confusing enough, the haunted closet starts teleporting. One minute it’s in the apartment, the next it’s popping up in hospitals, institutions, and wherever else the script needs a door. It’s like The Room of Requirementfrom Harry Potter, except it requires teeth.
Mosquitoes, Murder, and More Mosquitoes
The father eventually meets his end when he opens the magical closet and is devoured by—you guessed it—a swarm of mosquitoes. Somewhere, a CGI artist got paid real money to animate bugs killing people.
Meanwhile, Sophia’s behavior gets more erratic. The doctors think she’s going insane, which is fair considering her main coping mechanism is chasing invisible ghosts and hoarding human teeth. When her dead ex-husband’s teeth (yes, specifically his teeth) show up in Helena’s locker, the staff starts to wonder if she’s the real danger.
You can’t blame them. At this point, Sophia looks like the spokesperson for haunted Colgate.
She eventually discovers the backstory’s final twist: the husband who pulled out his wife’s teeth wasn’t the monster—she was. The ghostly wife had been a child-eating serial killer who devoured faces and collected teeth as trophies. So the husband’s dental DIY project was, in a twisted sense, an act of public service.
The old man upstairs? Turns out he witnessed her crimes as a kid. That’s right—the movie throws in a random bystander’s tragic backstory in the last fifteen minutes because it’s never too late for another subplot.
The Finale: Teeth, Tears, and Terrible Endings
In the climactic scene, Sophia finally finds the ghost’s missing teeth and throws them into the haunted closet, assuming that’ll end the curse. Helena suddenly starts speaking again, and for one brief moment it looks like everything’s okay. Spoiler: it’s not.
Sophia later discovers an old interview with the murderous wife and realizes she’s just unleashed the true monster. She rushes through the asylum, only to find a man with half his face missing who mumbles, “The ogre has her teeth again.” Which might be the best unintentional line in horror history.
When Sophia finally reaches Helena’s room, she takes one look inside and starts screaming in slow motion, because that’s how all Italian ghost stories end—screaming and confusion.
Cut to: Sophia, now institutionalized herself, staring up at the haunted window as Helena’s ghost stands beside the dead husband, her little face now half-chewed away. The cycle continues, the credits roll, and the audience collectively reaches for a dentist’s business card.
The Acting: Plaque Buildup, Not Emotional Buildup
Harriet MacMasters-Green does her best with a script that probably looked like it was written during a NyQuil overdose. She emotes passionately, even when the dialogue sounds like bad fan fiction. Sabrina Jolie Perez deserves a medal for maintaining a straight face through lines about buying other kids’ teeth.
Everyone else seems to exist in a fog of confusion—understandable, since the story changes tone faster than a mosquito changes hosts.
The Horror: Gory but Gummy
There are creepy visuals—bloody mouths, spectral women, dismembered faces—but none of it lands. The pacing drags like a slow dental extraction, and the jump scares are so predictable you could set your watch by them.
Even the ghost looks more sad than scary—like she’s just mad she missed her orthodontist appointment.
Final Diagnosis
The Haunting of Helena is a cavity of a film: a glossy surface hiding a hollow center. It’s got atmosphere, yes, but the story is so painfully absurd it’s impossible to take seriously. The attempts at tragedy are undercut by the fact that everyone’s main problem could’ve been solved with fluoride and better life choices.
If you’ve ever wanted to watch a supernatural soap opera directed by your dentist’s evil twin, this is your film. Otherwise, floss regularly and avoid haunted real estate.
Final Rating
1.5 haunted molars out of 5.
A movie that proves some fairy tales should stay buried under the pillow—preferably with a note that says, “Do not adapt.”
