‘The Killgrin’ VOD Review
Stars: Konstantina Mantelos, Adam Tsekhman, Cristo Fernández, Peter MacNeill, Fuad Ahmed, Nobahar Dadui | Directed by Joanna Tsanis
The Killgrin, the first feature-length film from Joanna Tsanis, is a mournful, slow-burning slice of supernatural horror that fuses creature-feature tension with a grounded portrait of grief. While it isn’t without its structural missteps, the film stands out for its atmosphere, striking creature work, and a central performance that lends emotional heft to a story about trauma made flesh.
Konstantina Mantelos anchors the film as Miranda, a young woman still reeling from a devastating personal loss. Mantelos’s performance is understated but deeply felt; she carries the film with quiet fragility, portraying someone trying to hold herself together long after the world has stopped giving her reasons to. Miranda’s grief isn’t merely thematic subtext — it becomes the film’s engine, its texture, and in many ways its antagonist. Tsanis wisely keeps the early sections intimate, allowing Miranda’s emotional disintegration to play out in subtle gestures and small, wordless moments. It’s a measured approach that pays off once the film’s supernatural elements take centre stage.
The titular Killgrin creature is where the film flexes its horror muscles. Designed with a disturbingly organic physicality, the entity feels both mythic and unnervingly real. Its appearances are marked by a creeping sense of inevitability rather than cheap shocks, and the film’s practical effects work is impressive for a production of its scale. Tsanis stages the Killgrin less as a traditional movie monster and more as an external manifestation of pain — a living infection that thrives on emotional vulnerability. When the creature strikes, it’s brutal yet strangely sorrowful, echoing the film’s thesis that grief is not something one escapes, but something one must learn to confront.
Where The Killgrin stumbles is in its narrative focus. The film introduces side characters and subplot threads that seem poised to deepen the central metaphor, only for them to drift into the background without meaningful payoff. As a result, the middle act feels less cohesive than it should, occasionally diluting the sharpness of the film’s ideas. Some character motivations can also feel muddled, particularly as the story veers between psychological horror and more literal monster-movie territory. These tonal shifts aren’t fatal, but they do create moments where the film seems unsure whether it wants to be a grief allegory or a straightforward creature thriller.
Pacing may also divide audiences. Tsanis favours mood over momentum, crafting an experience built on dread rather than adrenaline. The film moves at a steady, deliberate crawl, which suits the subject matter but risks losing viewers hoping for something more propulsive. Still, when the tension tightens — especially in the final act — the sense of emotional release is palpable, and the film lands on an ending that feels fittingly bleak yet strangely cathartic.
Despite its imperfections, The Killgrin is an intriguing piece of horror filmmaking that aims for something more soulful than its genre trappings might suggest. It’s a film about the weight of sorrow, the monsters we inherit, and the danger of letting pain swallow us whole. Ambitious, atmospheric, and occasionally haunting, The Killgrin is bolstered by strong performances and an unforgettable creature at its core.
*** 3/5
The Killgrin is out now on digital from Dark Sky Films.
