The Wasteland Netflix New Movie Honest Review

Movie Review 

Both an unnerving psychological thriller and a stripped-back creature feature, The Wasteland examines the nature of fear, childhood scars, and the importance of accepting how appallingly little control we have over our own lives. But more importantly, there's the kid-monster fight scene. 

 The actor is of course joined by an unofficial interlocutor, the animal itself. While he isn't given much dialogue or screen time to work with, the creature nonetheless exudes a slow-burning malevolence with a certain rustling in the restless tall grass.

  It is clear that the director, who believes in the rule of Hollywood "Don't show the monster", does not deviate from the strict "less is more" approach until one of the last scenes. (The audience is finally allowed a glimpse of the monster, though it's extremely early.)


  Furthermore, by inviting the audience to fill in the blanks and project their worst fears onto the animal, the films cleverly bring home its central themes—the destructive power of unacknowledged fear and the monumental courage required to face our inner demons.

  This is not the only example of subtext. In fact, The Wasteland's context-free location, fantastical plot elements, and ambiguous ending leave it all open to interpretation. So it's no surprise that every review or summary has a slightly different take on the film's meaning. An implicit interpretation of the destruction of the nuclear family, a broad biblical allusion, or a metaphor for a pandemic are just some of the many theories.

  Well, I guess what is The Wasteland? Symbolism aside, this is a satisfyingly thrilling old-fashioned supernatural horror, with an impressive cinematic feel, at least for a Netflix original. But is this movie something? Especially, well, scary.

Equal parts family psychodrama and slow-burn creature feature, The Wasteland is one of the more ambitious Netflix originals of the past few years.

  This extraordinary thriller exiles viewers to the Spanish desert of the 19th century and the difficult home of young Diego (Asier Flores) and his devoted parents Salvator (Roberto Alamo) and Lucia (Inma Cuesta). incorporeality.

  Establishing the film's edgy tone early on, the film opens with an anonymous figure staggering across the screen before succumbing to a bloody death. This scene prompts Salvatore to say goodbye to Diego and Lucia and search for the dead man's family, but not before disturbing his young son with a terrifying foreboding.

  Salvator shares the myth of "the beast," or El Paramo, according to the film's working title. The monster is depicted as a blank-faced, powerful, visionless but deadly predator; in other words, super relaxing bedtime story material.

Beast Is Real

  The audience soon discovers that the beast is real. But are we to assume that Salvatore knows this too? Or was the story a story from his point of view? Both outcomes indicate disturbingly poor parenting, with Salvator either choosing to abandon Diego and Lucia despite knowing a supernatural killing machine is on the loose, or he has seriously sadistic ideas about age-appropriate entertainment. (Has this person never heard of Dr. Seuss?)

  But of course, in the deliberately dreamlike world of The Wasteland, such nit-picking doesn't matter. The main thing is that Diego was taught to be afraid of animals. But it is precisely this fear that must be overcome in order to defeat the devil.  



 More than the sum of its parts. The Wasteland creates a sprawling narrative using just two characters, a lonely shack, and just the suggestion of a monster. Standout performances from both Cuesta and Flores anchor the central mother-son relationship, with Flores especially perfect as Diego.

  Believable and likeable child protagonists are rare, so the decision to entrust the bulk of The Wasteland's emotional weight to a ten-year-old was a significant risk. But while most child actors struggle to deliver adult subject matter without seeming unbearably precocious, Flores somehow created one of the year's most sympathetic and relatable characters — adult or child. Not bad for a fourth grader.

 With a surprisingly narrow-minded approach to the genre and its fans, Casademunt may have inadvertently touched upon The Wasteland's greatest weakness; choosing to play it safe instead of breaking new ground and refusing to acknowledge how powerful horror movies can be.

  After all, who says that emotion and fear (feeling fear) are mutually exclusive? Or do horror fans only enjoy psychologically shallow bloodfests?

  Forgetting to tell Ari Aster, the 2018 "horror movie for horror fans," Heredary coined the term "emotional terrorism."

  Unafraid to lean into horror movie tropes, the film turns universal human experiences into nightmares, including grief, trauma, and even love. And finally, Hereditary actually touches the souls of the audience. This is the scariest part.

  It is certain that the wasteland has no heritage. But this is not The Happening either. A well-made, enjoyable little gem that's consistently good without ever being great, this film will entertain just about anyone.


  But die-hard horror fans unsatisfied with Casademunt's horror offering can only hope that the director changes his mind and makes a "horror movie for horror fans" next.

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