Two Witches

Rebekah Kennedy inherits far more than family secrets in this lean, vicious horror film—she inherits a bloodline's capacity for hex and ruin. Two Witches feels like A24 discovered folk horror in a grandmother's attic: intimate, methodical dread that unfolds across generations, where the real terror isn't jump scares but the slow realization that some curses run deeper than blood.

The film moves with the precision of elevated horror at its best, trading jump-scare mechanics for creeping atmosphere and practical grotesquerie that lingers long after the credits roll. Director Pierre Perifel crafts something genuinely unsettling—the kind of 95-minute nightmare that trusts its audience to sit in discomfort rather than spell everything out. The pacing is patient, almost suffocating, letting dread accumulate like dust on old spell books.

This is for viewers who craved the folkloric darkness of Hereditary or the austere menace of The Witch, but want something leaner and meaner. You'll leave thinking about the final act's merciless logic, and the way inherited trauma becomes inherited power—a premise that's as psychologically unsettling as it is supernatural. The closing sequence alone will have you rewinding immediately.