There are many, many things that scare us fragile little humans. It’s one of the reasons why horror films explore such a wide gamut of subjects and themes. Some of them are completely fantastical and logically implausible, yet that doesn’t mean they don’t unsettle us. Aliens, demons, ghosts, vampires, monsters. Sure, there are some people that believe that one (or more) of those things actually exist but even then, even most of those wouldn’t say that they posed any real threat. Animal attack horrors may be possible, but being attacked by a great white shark or giant alligator are still highly unlikely. But we’re hardwired to respond to these survival horrors.

 

Beyond these external dangers lies the more intimate horror of the body and mind. These films engage with profound anxieties about physical and psychological decline. Ageing, illness, and death are universal certainties, and while deterioration is natural, it is understandably unwelcome. As with all mental health issues, age-related cognitive decline is a sensitive subject, yet one the genre has not avoided - and rightly so. Provided filmmakers resist sensationalism or the stigmatisation of disability and illness, these efforts can be both powerful and thoughtful. Films such as Relic and The Taking of Deborah Logan place Alzheimer’s disease and dementia at their centre, while The Visit, directed by M. Night Shyamalan, examines the disturbing behaviour of an elderly couple who have escaped from an institution. Argentinian psychological horror Crazy Old Lady (directed by Martin Mauregui) is the latest film to delve into this subject. Not that the film’s title leaves you in any doubt!

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On a stormy night, Laura (Agustina Liendo) is on the road with her young daughter, when she receives a call from her elderly mother Alicia (Carmen Maura) who asks for a dessert recipe. Seems normal enough, right? Well, after the third call in quick succession where her mum asks the same question, it becomes obvious that Laura’s mum is having severe memory issues. When Laura tries to speak to her mother’s carer, who should be with her, Alicia answers and ignores her daughters’ questions about where her live-in carer is. Too far away to turn back, Laura calls her ex-husband (Daniel Hendler) and asks for a BIG favour. He accepts her pleas to visit her mum and spend the night there to make sure she is ok. But what seems like a simple act of kindness quickly spirals into something far more disturbing.

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When Pedro arrives at the isolated house, Alicia appears confused but strangely alert, drifting between forgetfulness and sharp, unsettling moments of clarity. As the night unfolds, her behaviour becomes increasingly unpredictable. She begins drawing Pedro into bizarre conversations and weird games that blur the line between harmless confusion and deliberate cruelty. Before long, Pedro realizes he may not be free to leave - and that Alicia may not be as helpless as she first appeared.

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Crazy Old Lady is an intriguing, if occasionally frustrating, viewing experience. The vast majority of the increasingly uncomfortable events unfold within a single, contained setting, and this economy of storytelling lends the film an almost theatrical quality. The ferocious storm and Alicia’s behaviour confine us to a dimly lit old house that has clearly seen better days and feels half-empty as it is currently in the process of being sold. It proves to be a perfect setting for this particular story. Like her home, Alicia’s mind appears to be beginning to crumble, and what is uncovered during both of these processes raises some significant questions. Whether these are answered sufficiently or not is something viewers will ultimately have to decide for themselves by the end. Nevertheless, the gradually unfolding mystery and the growing sense of unease that begins to permeate the narrative are undeniably effective.

The economy of setting is matched by a very small group of characters. This is essentially a three-hander and, like all chamber pieces, much of its success (or failure) depends on the central performances and the strength of the character writing. In this respect, the film plays one of its strongest cards, because all three performances are very good. Agustina Liendo receives the least screen time but makes effective use of the material she is given. Daniel Hendler faces the difficult task of playing Pedro, a character who initially appears reluctant and somewhat dismissive (understandably so, given the circumstances) but whom we begin to support fairly quickly. This is largely because what he finds himself confronting is genuinely unsettling.

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That confrontation centres on Alicia, played by Carmen Maura, a vastly experienced Spanish actress perhaps best known to English-speaking audiences for her collaborations with Pedro Almodóvar. She delivers a commanding performance here. Although her situation initially invites sympathy from both Pedro and the audience, there remains a fine line between concern for her mental wellbeing and unease about the safety of those around her. As the film progresses, that sympathy gradually evolves into caution before curdling into something far more sinister. It’s important that we don’t detail the specifics because that’s part of the journey of the film. Suffice to say there are a couple of scenes that are genuinely uncomfortable to watch. And Maura is devilishly good at extracting as much unease from these scenes as is humanely possible. There is also a welcome thread of black comedy running throughout, preventing the film from ever becoming completely oppressive.

Some viewers may find the single-location setting restrictive or feel that the film begins to repeat itself somewhat during the middle section. It can, at times, feel slightly stretched. The ambiguity of the finale and its refusal to confirm the definitive truth of the narrative will frustrate some and delight others. Personally, while not without its flaws, we found it to be a macabre little treat.