The Communion Girl‘s Folklore Horror Tells the Tale of Better Movies

Flashes of Víctor Garcia’s Spanish-language The Communion Girl accentuate its creepy folkloric horror. Garcia’s experience churning out mid-tier genre flicks like Mirrors 2 and Return to House on Haunted Hill validates that he knows how to sell “scary” as a dreary, dreadful visual medium. It’s a shame that at its best, The Communion Girl reeks of better lore-driven horror standouts like The Ring or La Llorona. Writer Guillem Clua relies on blueprints exhaustingly familiar to ravenous horror fans, picking and choosing influences that never Voltron into ferocious originality. The basics are sound, but The Communion Girl’s ambitions are too redundantly straightforward—a serviceable-at-best rehash best suited for fresher-faced horror fans.
The Communion Girl is set in the late 1980s, but period aesthetics are hardly a defining characteristic here, besides an excuse to depict hitchhiking and an arcade sequence with 8-bit chiptune music. Sara (Carla Campra) and Rebe (Aina Quiñones) are small-town partiers who—after hopping in the car of skeevy drug dealer Chivo (Carlos Oviedo) for a ride home—might or not be haunted by an urban legend. Chivo drives the girls off-road as a prank, despite disapproval from co-pilot Pedro (Marc Soler), where Sara swears she sees a ghostly figure in white attire pass in front of their speeding vehicle. The group finds nothing except a tattered porcelain doll, associated with props held by young girls celebrating their first communion, which Sara brings home—along with a mysterious skin tag and new nightmarish visions.
Without a tightened screenplay, The Communion Girl feels like it’s checking required boxes to impress horror fans. A ghoulish creature that loves jump scares? Secretive mythology brushed under a rug and away from endangered characters? Nightly events that stoke paranormal paranoia? Garcia has some fun toying with blasphemous theological commentaries and the communion girl’s ability to transport victims to a watery alternate realm, but both aspects become repetitive and less enticing over time. Garcia’s instincts are sharp when painting terrifying pictures like Ed Warren in The Conjuring 2, but Clua’s dull script weakens what tastes like watered-down Horror Lite.