Movie Review: Exhuma

In recent years, the main question surrounding horror films has been, “Is it scary?” Initially, audiences enjoyed horror movies for the thrill and excitement they offered. However, over time, films with stronger narratives and cultural depth started to stand out more than those focused purely on fear. This shift is especially noticeable in South Korea’s horror film industry, where movies like Exhuma have sparked considerable debate, particularly over their endings.

A Scene From Exuhma

Exhuma centers on a team investigating a mysterious family tomb, ultimately confronting an ancient spiritual entity connected to it. From the beginning, the film deeply engages with Korean shamanism and Confucianism. The filmmakers effectively create a sense of realism, drawing viewers into a believable world. This was achieved through selective storytelling, as ordinary people who aren’t involved in shamanism are usually unfamiliar with—and incapable of perceiving—spiritual beings. Paranormal experiences are also rare in daily life. Because of this, the production team chose not to visually reveal any spirits until the very end. Instead, the story builds through subtle moments that gradually lead the audience to believe in the supernatural.

In Korean culture, even those who don’t believe in shamanism are generally aware of its practices. As a result, scenes involving spirit possession, rituals, and supernatural events felt plausible, and Exhuma was highly effective at creating tension within that boundary of realism. However, as a viewer, I found the ending somewhat unsatisfying. The carefully constructed suspense suddenly shifted into a creature-based horror sequence, breaking the grounded atmosphere that had been built up. This abrupt genre change made it harder for the audience to stay engaged in the final act. After the film ended, I began to wonder why this sudden shift was made.

A picture of a Korean shamanism practice

Director Jang, known for his works like Svaha: The Sixth Finger (2019) and The Priests (2015), is a well-regarded figure in Korean cinema. He’s clearly passionate about film, with deep experience and understanding of audience expectations. But even seasoned directors take creative risks, and I believe the ending of Exhuma was one of them. As mentioned earlier, Exhuma worked best when it reflected the audience’s perspective and built suspense through implication rather than direct revelation. But the climax contradicted that approach by introducing a physical ghost, pulling viewers out of the experience and prompting mixed reviews. Personally, I wasn’t fond of this twist, though it may have been a deliberate choice.

Unlike typical horror films that portray the supernatural from an ordinary person’s point of view, Exhuma focuses on the experiences of shamanists. Regular people can’t fully grasp what shamanists claim to see—their version of reality remains inaccessible to most of us. Perhaps Director Jang was trying to portray this unfamiliar perspective. Was it a smart move? In my view, not really. While it’s an interesting idea, I think it didn’t fit well with the rest of the film and weakened the overall impact. Traditionally, horror films succeeded by using gore or jump scares. But modern Korean horror has moved toward building psychological tension without relying heavily on shocking visuals. Exhuma fits well within this newer trend, avoiding excessive violence or sudden scares until the climax.

In contrast, horror films in the U.S. tend to blend older styles with modern storytelling. In my opinion, American horror hasn’t completely abandoned classic elements—it just integrates them more smoothly. I believe Korean horror could also benefit from experimenting with this kind of hybrid approach. However, cultural differences make that challenging. American horror often revolves around Christianity, exorcisms, and demons, while Korean horror is more rooted in shamanism and spirits. Finding a balance where supernatural elements can enhance tension without relying too much on gore or jump scares is essential for the future development of Korean horror films.