“Double, Double, Toil, and Blunder.”
Some horror films cast a spell over you. The Spell (2009) just makes you wish you were hexed into a coma before it started. Directed by Owen Carey Jones, this “true story” about witchcraft, heartbreak, and poor life choices manages to make the occult look about as thrilling as a damp séance in a Tesco parking lot.
Shot entirely in Leeds (and it shows), The Spell is the kind of movie that thinks a flickering lightbulb equals atmosphere and that mumbling the word “witchcraft” counts as a plot twist. Loosely based on the life of Emma Whale—who allegedly contacted Carey Jones to make her experiences into a movie—it’s a reminder that “loosely based” can mean “we lost the script halfway through and just filmed people staring into space.”
Jenny From the Basement
Our protagonist is Jenny (Rebecca Pitkin), a recovering drug user with a face that permanently says “I can’t believe I agreed to be in this.” Jenny is tossed around between divorced parents who both seem to hate her with the intensity of rival necromancers. Her mum’s boyfriend has even commandeered her bedroom for storage, forcing her to live in the basement—a symbolic detail that might’ve been profound if the movie weren’t filmed with the visual clarity of a CCTV feed from a haunted chip shop.
In between dodging passive-aggressive family dinners, Jenny tries to rebuild her life. She gets a job, moves in with her boyfriend Rick (Luke Harris, credited under the inexplicable pseudonym Pietro Herrera, which is either a stage name or an attempt to hide his involvement in this disaster), and begins the kind of domestic bliss you’d expect in a low-budget soap opera. Naturally, that bliss lasts about as long as a candle in a wind tunnel.
Enter Kate (Laura O’Donoughue), Rick’s new admirer and full-time goth menace. She’s obsessed with Rick, dabbling in witchcraft, and wearing more eyeliner than the entire cast of The Crow. Jenny, heartbroken, ends up leaning on Ed (Steve Smith), a co-worker with all the charisma of a microwaved potato. Unfortunately, Ed is also into witchcraft—because apparently everyone in Leeds has a side hustle in the occult.
Casting Spells and Poor Actors
Soon, Jenny’s life starts to unravel thanks to a series of spells cast by her enemies, who apparently majored in “Petty Magic” at the local community college. We’re told that Kate and Ed are using dark rituals to ruin her, but what we actually see is Kate lighting candles in a bedroom while glaring at a photo of Jenny like she’s trying to melt it with sheer disdain.
Rick, ever the intellectual, decides to help Kate with her spells. It’s never clear why—perhaps the script itself cursed him. Together they concoct a ritual to make Jenny’s life “miserable,” though one suspects starring in The Spell already accomplished that.
The film tries to make witchcraft mysterious and menacing but instead presents it like a particularly disappointing yoga class. There are candles, robes, and the occasional bit of chanting, but it all has the energy of a bored drama club trying to impress their Wiccan friend. You half expect someone to summon a demon just to speed up the runtime.
The True Horror: The Acting
Rebecca Pitkin gives a performance so wooden she could’ve been used as kindling for one of the ritual bonfires. Her emotional range stretches from “mildly confused” to “vaguely irritated,” with the occasional burst of “bewildered resignation.”
Luke Harris, meanwhile, appears to be method acting as a man who regrets all his life choices. His chemistry with Pitkin is so non-existent that when they break up, you don’t feel heartbreak—you feel relief. Laura O’Donoughue, as the witchy Kate, at least tries to chew some scenery, but given the production values, it’s more like gnawing on plywood.
And then there’s Steve Smith as Ed, who radiates all the menace of a bored office intern. When he’s revealed to be part of the coven, it’s not shocking—it’s confusing. You don’t think, “Oh no, he’s evil!” You think, “Wait, who was he again?”
A Leeds Witch Project (Without the Scares)
Filmed entirely in Leeds, The Spell looks like it was shot by someone who accidentally left the lens cap on for half the scenes. The lighting is so inconsistent that it feels like you’re watching through a kaleidoscope made of sadness. The editing is equally cursed, cutting from one scene to another with the grace of a possessed lawnmower.
Every attempt at horror fizzles out immediately. There are whispers, flickering candles, and slow zooms on nothing. At one point, Jenny hears strange noises in her basement, but instead of investigating like a normal horror protagonist, she just looks mildly annoyed—probably because the basement set was cold and smelled like damp toast.
The soundtrack tries its best, alternating between “ominous droning” and “stock piano sadness,” but even it seems to give up halfway through, repeating the same eerie hum like a ghostly dial tone.
Based on a True Story (and That’s the Scariest Part)
The marketing for The Spell proudly proclaims it’s “based on the true story of Emma Whale,” a claim that raises more questions than it answers. How much of it is true? Did Emma really live in a basement? Did she actually get hexed by jealous co-workers? Or did she just once get a bad Tinder match and decide witchcraft was involved?
The film doesn’t bother to clarify, preferring instead to meander through Jenny’s increasingly miserable life like a documentary narrated by someone who fell asleep halfway through reading the script. If this is the true story, one imagines Emma Whale watching the final cut and muttering, “I survived witchcraft for this?”
The Special Effects: A Spell for Poverty
Let’s talk about the effects—or, more accurately, the lack thereof. When someone gets cursed, it’s represented by… a headache. Maybe a flickering light. The most impressive supernatural event in the entire film is a door closing slightly faster than expected.
The “ritual scenes” are an exercise in anti-climax. Picture a group of people standing in a circle muttering Latin-like gibberish while the camera wobbles dramatically. No lightning bolts, no spectral apparitions—just a lot of candle wax and bad posture.
If you’re expecting The Craft or even Hocus Pocus levels of magic, forget it. The Spell delivers witchcraft on the level of “forgot to blow out a scented candle and now my curtains smell weird.”
The Horror of Bad Filmmaking
To call The Spell a horror movie is generous. It’s more of a cinematic shrug. The pacing is glacial, the scares nonexistent, and the dialogue sounds like it was written by someone whose only exposure to human conversation was through a Ouija board.
The film’s climax—a showdown between Jenny and her occult enemies—lands with all the impact of a soggy biscuit. There’s some screaming, some vague glowing, and then… nothing. The curse is either lifted or forgotten. The ending arrives not with a bang but with a quiet, exhausted whimper, like the film itself finally gave up.
Final Verdict: A Hex on Entertainment
The Spell is a masterclass in how not to make a horror movie. It’s slow, joyless, and utterly devoid of tension. The acting is amateurish, the writing is limp, and the scares are so scarce you start wishing someone—anyone—would at least trip over a cursed broomstick just to break the monotony.
As a supernatural thriller, it fails. As a character study, it fails harder. As a public service announcement warning people against watching low-budget British horror? Nailed it.
Grade: D– (for “Dead Air and Disappointment”)
If you’re looking for witchcraft, thrills, or even basic competence, The Spell will leave you cursed with regret. This isn’t a movie—it’s a séance for your attention span. The only thing it successfully conjures is the urge to hit “stop.”
