They Were Witches (2025): A Grounded, Grief-Soaked Horror Rooted in Mexican Myth
They Were Witches (2025): A Grounded, Grief-Soaked Horror Rooted in Mexican Myth
"A grounded, grief-soaked slasher that feels rooted in Mexican myth." — 3/5 Stars
They Were Witches (2025) review: From its chilling opening—a woman chained to a chair, suffocated with a plastic bag, her breath siphoned into a jar by a man with a hammer—Eran Brujas announces itself as something far more primal than a standard horror film. Directed by Alejandro G. Alegre (Ánima, The Devil Told Me What to Do), this Mexican indie doesn’t rely on jump scares or digital spectacle. Instead, it builds dread through atmosphere, folklore, and a deeply personal mythology that feels ancient—even if it’s largely the filmmaker’s own invention.
The story follows Mia (Tania Niebla), a paranormal radio host and self-proclaimed witchcraft expert, who stops at a rural motel en route to a therapy session. There, she encounters a group of twentysomethings whose fates quickly intertwine with hers—and with a malevolent force that demands the breath of orphans to return from death. What unfolds blends slasher structure (a relentless killer, escalating deaths) with the slow-burn unease of supernatural horror, all grounded in a world that feels tactile, lived-in, and eerily plausible.
Myth That Feels Real
While not directly based on La Lechuza or other specific legends, They Were Witches is steeped in the same cultural soil. The film evokes the kind of stories passed down in hushed tones—warnings about vengeful spirits, stolen breath, and the sacred vulnerability of orphans. Alegre crafts a mythology so convincing, I was certain it was drawn from centuries-old folklore. In truth, it’s mostly original—but that’s a testament to his storytelling. This isn’t pastiche; it’s synthesis.
The film’s modest budget is evident in the rare moments when CGI is used, but wisely that's quite seldom as the film avoids relying on it. Instead, Alegre leans into practical effects, shadow-drenched cinematography, and sound design that turns silence into tension. The result is a gritty, earthy horror that feels closer to We Are What We Are or Huesera than to glossy studio fare.
“The most terrifying myths aren’t the ones we inherit—they’re the ones we create to explain the pain we can’t name.”
A B-Movie With Soul
Make no mistake: this is a B-movie—independent, made outside the studio system, and operating on a fraction of a Hollywood budget. But it’s not cheesy, ironic, or winking at the audience in the way the term often implies. It’s serious, somber, and dripping with dread. The acting—led by Niebla’s weary, intelligent presence—is strong across the board, though non-Spanish speakers may miss some emotional nuance despite subtitles. The killer’s hammer-wielding menace and the ritualistic logic of the deaths give the film slasher bones, but its heart beats in the realm of grief, guilt, and ancestral reckoning—placing it firmly in the tradition of supernatural horror as much as folk horror.
It’s not a masterpiece. The pacing occasionally drags, and the third act leans on ambiguity where clarity might have resonated more. But as a piece of regional horror made with conviction and cultural specificity, it’s compelling. And on a dark, quiet night with the lights off? It’s genuinely unsettling.
They Were Witches may not rewrite the genre, but it carves its own space within it—offering a haunting, handmade horror that lingers like smoke in a sealed room.
In an age of algorithm-driven horror, there’s something powerful about a film that feels whispered, not marketed—a story that could’ve been told around a fire in rural Mexico a hundred years ago… or last week. They Were Witches doesn’t need big effects to scare you. It just needs you to believe, for a moment, that breath can be stolen—and that some debts are paid in orphans.
Final Verdict: A gritty, atmospheric folk horror with slasher teeth and a mythic soul. Not flawless, but deeply felt. 3 out of 5 stars.
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