Camping: not even once. That’s perhaps surprisingly, or perhaps unsurprisingly, the clearest message in The Devil Whispered my Name (Un susurro invocó mi nombre), a film which – in trying to do a lot – ends up not doing much. This is a shame, as there are some brilliant visual flourishes and good sound design here, just in dear want of a focused, connecting narrative.
Back to the camping: a group of (initially) happy young people have decided to get together out in the woods to mark their last evening of all being together, as some of the party are about to head off, in pursuit of new horizons. In Argentina, this means more than a few beers, however: the kids have lined up a third eye-prying Ayahuasca trip, cutting out the shamanic middleman to go it alone – though perhaps a bit of guidance wouldn’t have gone amiss, as this dalliance with a mind-altering substance goes about as well as you might expect. Soon, Carla (Bianca Mitnik) is waking up alone, though initially believes she hears her own name being called, and wanders off in pursuit of it. When she properly awakens, her mouth is full of blood, her arms are scratched – and her best friend Maria, who had only just introduced the fact of her pregnancy, outlasted these happy tidings by a couple of hours, tops.
Ten years pass by. Now a dancer in Bueno Aires, Carla (now Clara Kovacic) is ostensibly doing well with a move to Paris lined up, but she still suffers from visions. Why people decide to take these incredibly destabilising mental disorders to foreign countries is always a puzzler, but Carla is determined to put her career first, and to make a fresh start. There’s a snag: before she can go anywhere, she hears from her old friend Daniel (Antonio Kassab) that their mutual friend from the infamous camping trip, Germán, is dead – and they need to go to his funeral. It’s only right, argues Daniel. Carla agrees, though her hallucinations insist on going with her and, at the wake, she spies a strange symbol on Germán’s hand. It triggers a memory of Maria’s death; Carla recalls that same symbol on Maria’s body, too. She tries to put this from her mind, playing catch-up with people she has not seen for a very long time – including Maria’s mother, Ruth – but, in a heartbeat, the small town reveals that there’s more going on here than just Carla’s personal, private visions. The night reveals some monstrous goings-on: ritual and madness which seems somehow to be centred on her.
The Devil Whispered my Name suffers from pacing issues, and this sudden lurch from torpor into a sudden, busy assemblage of conspiracy, possession, a demonic force…it happens fast, but then it recedes just as fast. It’s not clear why the curse has only broken out a decade later after offing Maria but going no further, but regardless of that, the issue really is that the film can’t, or won’t make good on its hints at a uniting storyline with those gory elements to boot. It instead breaks up these scenes with long, fact-finding sequences: the film prioritises, whether through budget or disposition, lots of quietly walking around, chatting, and sleeping. It is frustrating. Who keeps catching forty winks in this situation?
That’s not to say that the film lacks atmosphere: the cinematography can and does do some good work. Clara Kovacic also does well with her role, appearing on screen for the vast majority of the runtime, but carrying that responsibility well. It’s just that the film only really offers dashes of bigger ideas: the occult, demonology, religion, even New Age-type beliefs like auras and self-discovery are all in there, but nothing feels clearly prioritised. It’s possible that 2023’s breakout hit When Evil Lurks – with its own rural Argentinian possession horror – has set some kind of a bar, even subconsciously, for filmmakers and audiences both, even though The Devil Whispered my Name reverts back to notions of trauma and destiny by its close, holding back some more effective visuals for its finale. It looks as though directors John Mathis (Where’s Rose?) and wife Emilia Cotella have further joint ventures lined up: their aesthetic sensibilities already work well, but it would be great to see some more consistency in narrative and pacing, to really draw together those other skills.
The Devil Whispered my Name (2025) featured at this year’s Raindance Film Festival.