Fréwaka: Unearthing the Roots of Irish Horror
By Carmen Gray
The landscape of Irish horror has been growing in recent years, and Fréwaka provides the most recent example of this. Set in a rural Irish-speaking town, the horror explores the rich history of Ireland. Director Aislinn Clarke uses the familiar landscapes and small-town rumours of rural Ireland to create the perfect atmosphere for a horror that hits very close to home. Frewaka centres around a young woman, Siobhán (Shoo), who travels to rural Ireland as a care worker for an elderly woman, Peig. What she finds on arrival is a woman believing to be tormented by the Na Sídhe, figures from Irish folklore known for their cunning nature, often whispered to participate in kidnappings. Attending the preview in QFT, we had the experience to hear from Clarke in a Q+A that followed speak on her film and her intentions with certain moments and characters.
The horror of Fréwaka speaks for itself- featuring many of the cornerstones of darker Irish folklore and culture. Traditions of evil spirits kidnapping children, coming through mirrors and the horror of goats are all unequivocally Irish. Clarke noted this when speaking to the audience during the preview, highlighting that she ‘didn’t just get out a big book of Irish folklore’. Rather, she ‘relied on the word-of-mouth stories heard as a child’. This, she highlighted, was ‘far scarier, as it feels a lot more real’.
One example of this is her image of the ‘strawboys’, men in conical straw masks who traditionally brought luck to weddings. She uses this image to provide a haunting silhouette of some of the Na Sídhe. The faceless and voiceless bodies, faces covered with wicker and straw, provide the perfect picture of eerie anonymity needed for the level of horror Clarke attains.
All of this being said, the horror of Fréwaka goes below the surface level of silhouettes and whispers. It is for this reason that the film is named Fréwaka, or the phonetic version or the Irish word ‘fréamhacha’, meaning roots. Clarke addressed the name herself, explaining that ‘we wanted people to be able to pronounce it, but the English word roots was boring, it didn’t hold quite the same meaning’. She noted the ‘deep, tangled and hard to remove’ connotations held in the Irish word. She uses this theme of deep, immoveable ‘roots’ throughout the film- both in the context of familial connections and the roots (history) of Ireland itself.
Familial roots are an important theme in Fréwaka. When describing Shoo and Peig, she explained that they ‘represent the old and the new Ireland’. Peig is elder, having been married after getting pregnant out of wedlock. She is portrayed as more reserved and appears to hold to the catholic religion in Ireland, wearing a Bridgit’s cross. Shoo is very young, engaged to a Ukranian woman who is carrying their child through fertility treatments.
As the narrative unfolds, subtle parallels between the two become clear: a shared Irish wit and a deep-rooted knowledge of their cultural traditions. Yet, alongside these lighter bonds, a quieter, darker similarity lingers.
In the opening sequence, we see Shoo’s abusive mother commit suicide. Shoo, struggling to come to terms, suffers visions and is on psychiatric medicine, constantly aware that she may be perceived as ‘crazy’ like her mother. This theme of familial roots comes to a head as we find that Shoo’s mother is the child of Peig- making Shoo is her granddaughter. When meeting Peig for the first time, Clarke uses indicators of her mental instability. She is wearing clothes inside out, urinating on the floor to keep out strangers and using protective measures such as salt around her house to prevent so-called evil spirits. As Shoo suffers similarly, it is revealed that the curse of the Na Sídhe had plagued the family with mental instability. Through this slow unveiling, Clarke uses Irish folklore to confront the enduring legacy of inherited trauma within Irish families.
Clarke also uses this theme of roots to explore the roots of Ireland. An overriding motif in the film is the role of the Catholic church and faith in Ireland, it’s destructive role. Engaging with topics such as the Magdalene Laundries, religious related child abuse and ‘punishment’ in all forms, Fréwaka serves as an example of Ireland coming to reckon with its problematic roots. Showing the effect of these on Shoo, Clarke suggests that the legacy of the Catholic church in Ireland is far from forgotten by the newer generations of Ireland.
The impact of Fréwaka is layered and profound. Beyond its impressive use of horror imagery, Clarke’s film is a chilling confrontation with Ireland’s uncomfortable past and its deep cultural scars. The true terror of Fréwaka is not just in its cultish supernatural figures or rural whispers, but in its exploration of the inescapable roots that tie the present to a painful history. Through tense, intimate storytelling, Clarke forces her audience to face how the legacies of trauma, religion, and family quietly shaped modern Ireland. Fréwaka ultimately reveals that true horror may lie in the deep, tangled roots of Ireland’s legacy.
