THE MORRIGAN (2026) review
written by: Colum Eastwood
produced by: Ashley Holberry and Gavin Cosmo Mehrtens
directed by: Colum Eastwood
rated: R (for some sexual content, graphic nudity, language and brief violence)
runtime: 96 min.
U.S. release date: February 3, 2026 (VOD)
“This is god’s work, Sean. He’ll forgive us for what we have to do today.”
If the UK and Ireland seem to have a stranglehold on folk horror, it’s likely due to the subgenre’s emergence in the late 60s and early 70s with some distinctively British folk horror films like “Blood on Satan’s Claw” and, of course, “The Wicker Man.” In fact, UK and Irish filmmakers continue cranking out entries in the subgenre, with the last few years bringing us such notable films as Mark Jenkin’s “Enys Men,” Ben Wheatley’s “In the Earth,” Kate Dolan’s “You Are Not My Mother,” Damian McCarthy’s “Oddity,” and Alex Garland’s “Men.”
The first notable folk horror film of 2026, Colum Eastwood’s “The Morrigan” is an expansion of the director’s 2015 short film of the same name. The title character is a vengeful goddess from Celtic mythology and the focus of study for archaeologist and professor Fiona Scott (Saffron Burrows), who is seeking funding for a mission to find a Morrigan-related artifact in coastal Northern Ireland. Continually underestimated by her male colleagues, Fiona is granted the money, provided she continues to act as second fiddle to her boss, Jonathan (Jonathan Forbes), on the dig.
Arriving at the (fictional) Annan Island with her troubled teenager daughter Lily (Emily Flain) in tow, Fiona finds herself already behind the 8-ball as Jonathan and his unpaid intern Conor (Michael Shea) have already begun the dig. Their accommodations see them staying at a small inn run by Malachy (Toby Stephens) and his teenage son Sean (Art Parkinson of “Kubo and the Two Strings”), and with no wi-fi or cell service to keep her occupied, Lily is soon overwhelmed by the very male-dominated group and retreats to the bottom of a bottle of vodka.
However, when Fiona and company return with a casket found at the dig site, Lily is called to whatever (or whomever) is inside. Little do any of them realize that they’ve unleashed an ancient evil, one that predates Christianity itself, putting them in a predicament that even Malachy’s priest brother Francis (James Cosmo) is going to be hard-pressed to fight, particularly once the spirit possesses poor Lily.
My primary complaint with “The Morrigan” is that it is virtually impossible to see anything happening in this film. Eastwood and cinematographer Robert Binnall seem to be emulating the work that Gordon Willis did on films like “The Godfather,” where the density of shadows is used to brilliant storytelling effect. Unfortunately for Binnall, most people will not see this film projected on an enormous screen with incredible clarity, but rather on their home televisions. This might be one instance where the general public’s ignorance of settings like brightness and motion smoothing actually benefits a film, despite doing a complete disservice to the filmmakers’ intentions.
A good screenplay, however, can help even the most visually uninteresting of films stay afloat. Unfortunately, Eastwood’s script for “The Morrigan” is a mishmash of warmed over horror clichés, most notably when cribbing more than a few of its lines from “The Exorcist.” The whole effort reeks of those dreaded good intentions, wherein a male filmmaker attempts to demonstrate their tacit disgust with a male-dominated society, but only succeeds in reinforcing the patriarchy. Basically, the dude set out to make a “girl power” movie, but forgot that he was supposed to be empowering his female characters rather than denigrating them.
The cast is also a mixed bag of performances, ranging from admirably committed ones, like Flain, Parkinson, and Cosmo, to an almost somnambulant Burrows and most of her male contemporaries. It’s tough because most performances in folk horror films are intentionally subdued, but the tone and style of these performances don’t feel intentional. Basically everyone but Flain, Parkinson, and Cosmo play this like they’d rather be anywhere else on the planet than in this movie.
“The Morrigan” starts out promisingly enough, but like the aforementioned Alex Garland film “Men,” ends up undercutting its intended message by—for lack of a better term—mansplaining things to its female characters and, by extension, the audience. I’m sure Eastwood really thought he was doing something subversive with this material, but the truly progressive thing would’ve been to let a female filmmaker tell this story. Frankly, it just hits weird every single time a male character calls one of the female characters a “bitch,” and that happens several times. I get the feeling that’s a by-product of this having been written and directed by a man. That’s not the only thing wrong with “The Morrigan,” not by a long shot, but it is the thing I simply couldn’t move past.
RATING: **
Touching on two of the most common criticisms of The Morrigan:
the overly dark cinematography and the simplified,
demonized portrayal of the Morrígan that skips deeper myth‑based context.
Dark cinematography vs. authenticity
The very lugubrious, murky look critics and viewers have noted can indeed make it feel like a cheap, generic horror film rather than a grounded folklore horror rooted in actual place and ritual.
For a movie trading on pagan myths, that heavy darkness works against the sense of reverence and realism; instead of feeling like you’re in an ancient, sacred landscape, you just feel like you’re squinting at a dimly lit nightmare.
Turning the Morrígan “bad” without context
The film largely frames the Morrígan as a straight‑up monster without engaging The deeper reasons pagan gods might become wrathful or vengeful—like broken oaths, desecrated land, or ignored rituals.
In authentic folk horror, the horror often comes from what humans did to deserve the god’s anger, not just from “evil goddess attack.” By skipping any clear backstory or motive for why the Morrígan turns “bad,” the film loses a big part of the mythic weight it could have leaned into.
How that affects the film
That flattening of the myth into a simple evil‑entity plot plus the dark, hard‑to‑read visuals makes the movie feel more like a generic possession‑horror template than a respectful, myth‑aware folk tale, which is exactly the kind of disappointment you’re describing.
If you wanted to, you could almost imagine a “director’s‑cut‑style” version where:
scenes are better lit to show the land, ritual objects, and the community’s relationship with the Morrígan;
and there’s at least one clear sequence explaining why she’s unleashed (e.g., broken taboos, ancestral betrayal, or modern disrespect of sacred sites).
That’s often what fans of real folk horror end up craving: a horror that feels like it’s digging into the reasons the old gods are angry, not just using them as a spooky costume.