Felipe Vargas makes an assured and stylish directorial debut with Rosario, a moody, atmospheric horror film that fuses supernatural terror with a sharp exploration of generational trauma and cultural identity. It’s a claustrophobic, unnerving experience that balances the grotesque with the emotional—and while it might not quite live up to the “scariest movie ever” hype it’s getting on TikTok, it still delivers plenty of chills, thrills, and vivid visual storytelling.
The plot centers on Rosario Fuentes (Emeraude Toubia), a high-powered Wall Street stockbroker who returns to her late grandmother’s apartment during a snowstorm. What begins as a quiet, grief-tinged homecoming quickly devolves into a waking nightmare as Rosario discovers a hidden chamber filled with occult relics tied to Palo Mayombe, an Afro-Latin religion with deep ancestral roots and terrifying supernatural implications. As ghostly hands reach out from beds and family secrets ooze from the walls—sometimes literally—Rosario must reckon with the pieces of herself she left behind in pursuit of the American Dream.
What makes Rosario especially effective is its use of physical space and visual storytelling. Griselda’s apartment, painstakingly designed and built in Colombia, is a character in itself: worn, cluttered, alive with ancestral energy. The camera slinks and swoops with intentional unease, and the lighting design is downright terrifying, soaked in reds, greens, and shadowy yellows that bring to mind Suspiria by way of The Evil Dead. The set feels lived-in and cursed, filled with hallucinatory detail and dread. You may never look at a bed the same way again.
Emeraude Toubia is captivating in the title role, carrying the film on her shoulders with poise and intensity. Yes, she’s distractingly beautiful—something the camera clearly knows—but beyond that, she brings emotional depth to a character who is slowly peeling back layers of repression, assimilation, and grief. Rosario is more than a scream queen; she’s a woman confronting the erasure of her culture, her roots, and her familial legacy. Watching her unravel—and reclaim—is one of the film’s true pleasures.
David Dastmalchian, as always, makes the most of his screen time as the unsettling neighbor, Joe. His presence lingers long after he’s left the frame, adding a layer of unease that builds nicely alongside the film’s supernatural elements.
There are some deliciously gnarly moments, particularly for fans of practical effects. Whether it’s bugs, bile, or demonic appendages, the team at Autonomous F/X brings a gritty tactility that sells the horror even when the makeup sometimes veers into B-movie territory. Not everything hits, but when it does, it’s memorable.
Narratively, Rosario doesn’t reinvent the haunted-house wheel. At times, the familiar beats of cursed books, jump scares, and long-held family secrets can feel a bit too predictable. And while comparisons to Evil Dead Rise are apt, Rosario carves out its own identity through cultural specificity and thematic depth. The film is most powerful when it explores the cost of assimilation and the weight of ancestral expectation, grounding its horrors in something deeply human.
Rosario is a confident, creepy debut from Felipe Vargas that blends occult horror and cultural commentary into a tight, unsettling package. A late-game twist gives the story a satisfying jolt, and while the ending doesn’t break new ground, it lands with emotional weight and just enough ambiguity to linger long after the credits roll. See it in the dark—and maybe call your abuela after.
Jessie Hobson