In a storage bin containing old family photos and documents that have been passed down to me is my grandmother’s bible. It still exists, even though my grandmother left unambiguous instructions that it should be destroyed — by fire, I was told — upon her death. She died when I was a child, so I have only vague memories of her. I certainly don’t recall anything about her that would make this odd request seem logical. My father didn’t understand her entreaty, either, and likely believed it to be a manifestation of the dementia she suffered in her final months. I could tell that it perplexed him, because he spoke of it often enough to lodge the story into my brain.
That’s an important point: I knew he had not followed her instructions, and that the bible was still around. For a kid who read a lot of horror comic books, it was easy to conjure up a ghost: Whenever I heard an inexplicable noise in the middle of the night; whenever I caught a glimpse of a shadow out of the corner of my eye; whenever something spontaneously fell off a shelf or went missing only to reappear in a different part of the house, I assumed it was my grandmother, haunting us because my father failed to carry out her wish.
Stories like this — about restless spirits and vengeful ghosts — are ubiquitous in literature and folklore. In small communities and in the distant past, such tales might be handed down from one generation to the next, an oral tradition that gradually becomes part of a region’s cultural fabric. Those sacred narratives work their way into legend and mythology, and are reintroduced into the mainstream through contemporary horror fiction and cinema.
In the film “Mudbrick,” director Nikola Petrovic weaves a mesmerizing, eerie tale that pulls together threads from Slavic mythology and stories his grandparents shared with him when he was younger. Filmed in Činiglavci, a village near Pirot, Serbia, “Mudbrick” was released on Dec. 13 and is available for streaming on AppleTV+ and Amazon Prime Video. Petrovic’s film combines familial tension, menacing atmosphere, and shocking, fanatical devotion to a malevolent god in a story that is both melancholy and, at times, disturbing. A word of warning: Some graphic scenes may be too intense for certain viewers, so do your research before digging into this impressive entry into the folk horror genre.
The film’s official logline tells us that Londoner Paul (Philip Brodie) returns to Serbia sometime after the death of his father. His father left the house to him, though his brother Jakov (Andrew Howard) and his family have been living there for years.
The tension between Paul and Jakov is instantly recognizable: Jakov believes Paul has come to evict him from their family’s mudbrick home and take everything away from him. Paul — who left the village with his mother when he was still young — makes repeated attempts at reconciliation with his estranged brother, but none of his attempts diminish Jakov’s aggressive behavior. Paul also tries to make peace with Jakov’s wife, Natalija (Kamka Tocinovski) and his daughter Ana (Dusica Nastova). These efforts also seem destined to fail — though it is from these interactions that the viewer begins to sense that there is more happening than a simple struggle between two brothers over their father’s worldly possessions.
Petrovic sporadically teases part of this dark secret, with scenes showing Jakov and his family out in the Serian countryside, on their knees praying for protection. Symbols of Slavic mythology are strewn about the landscape and affixed to the walls of the very mudbrick house where the two brothers clash. Other villagers treat Paul unsympathetically, as though they know something unpleasant about him.
“Mudbrick” is more than just another addition to the current resurgence in folk horror cinema. It is provocative, disquieting, and visually distinctive. It takes undivided attention and critical thinking to get at the heart of this complex narrative. While it may be evident from the beginning that Jakov is not happy about Paul’s arrival, the basis and the extent of his hostility are not immediately obvious. Petrovic sprinkles clues throughout the first half of the film that may go unnoticed or ignored, but when the truth is finally revealed — when Paul “remembers,” — the puzzles pieces quickly fall into place.
Petrovic wisely ensures that the friction between the two brothers remains in focus throughout the film, even when underscoring the folk horror elements and rendering the gloomy atmosphere. In the film’s production notes, the director reveals that the seed for the “Mudbrick” came from a real-life incident that happened shortly after World War II. Two brothers, bound by blood but alienated due to circumstances beyond their control, found themselves on opposite sides of a brewing conflict. Their dispute over land evolved into a permanent rift that impacted the entire village.
“It was deeply saddening and difficult to imagine such a profound rift between brothers,” Petrovic said. “Only as I grew older and came to understand how easily family bonds can be fractured did this story resonate more personally, inspiring me to bring it to life on screen.”
According to a post in Reddit, Petrovic said “Mudbrick” was filmed in the same village where the real-life story originated.
“This is also the village my grandparents are from,” Petrovic posted. “The whole creative team is Serbian, which I think gave the film a really authentic vibe.”
The film includes both Serbian and English dialogue, so subtitles are helpful.
“Mudbrick” transcends its fascinating folk horror flourishes, diving deep into themes surrounding family conflicts, envy, sins of our ancestors, festering guilt, and fanatical idolatry. Filled with excellent performances — particularly by Brodie and Howard — and meticulous cinematography, it’s a slow, somber descent into the darkest regions of the human condition, deliciously immersive and intensely haunting.
