I’ve never been a watch guy. Some people need that constant tick on their wrist, that daily reminder of how much time is slipping away. Me? I was content to let time be a little more casual. Which is why, when my dad gifted me a shiny pocket watch one Christmas, I smiled, thanked him with genuine appreciation, and promptly placed it in the back of my closet, right next to the unopened foot massager and a box of comics. I loved the gesture, it was classic Dad: thoughtful, a little old-fashioned and completely out of left field.
But wearing it? Not likely. Still, I kept it, because you keep those kinds of gifts.
Years later, after my dad passed away, I was cleaning out that same closet and I found the watch again. This time, I opened it. Inside was a folded note I’d somehow never noticed. Just a simple line: “I’m proud of you. Love, Dad.”
That note hit harder than any eulogy. The watch, once a dusty trinket, became a treasured relic of a relationship no longer bound by time. Sadly, it went missing again during the house flood last year. Maybe it’s still here somewhere, waiting to be found. Or maybe it served its purpose already. Either way, when a scene in today’s movie centered around a boy losing his grandfather’s watch, let’s just say… it hit me right in the feelings.
Shaman, a horror film written by Daniel Negret and directed by Antonio Negret, is the latest entry in the demonic possession subgenre. The story follows Catholic missionary Candice (Sara Canning), who travels with her husband, Joel (Daniel Gillies), and their teen son, Elliot (Jett Klyne), to a rural Latin American village to spread the Gospel.
Things seem peaceful at first — until curiosity gets the better of Elliot. While playing with some local children, he hears rumors of a cursed cave and, brushing off the warnings, decides to venture inside. He’s quickly scared off by a mysterious local shaman (Lisandro Morales), but in his panic, he drops his grandfather’s watch — an heirloom meant to play a key role in his upcoming confirmation ceremony.
Too ashamed to admit the loss, Elliot returns to the cave alone that night, and this time, he doesn’t come back the same. What emerges isn’t just a frightened child, it’s something far darker. As Candice watches her son change in terrifying ways, she realizes her devout faith alone may not be enough to combat the ancient evil that now has a hold on him.
With time running out, she’s forced to confront a truth that shakes her spiritual foundation to the core.
The demonic possession trope has been done to death — twisting bodies, guttural growls and enough holy water to fill a swimming pool. From The Exorcist to the latest streaming scare-fest, audiences have seen it all. Shaman makes a commendable attempt to set itself apart from the pack. It opts for a slow burn rather than jumping straight into the screaming and levitating, gradually building tension as Elliot’s transformation unfolds. The Latin American village setting adds rich cultural atmosphere, lending the film a grounded sense of place, and the performances — particularly from Sara Canning — are stronger than you might expect from a movie like this.
But even with those strengths, Shaman can’t quite outrun the shadows of its predecessors. The narrative ultimately leans on familiar beats: the skeptical parents, the cryptic warnings from locals and of course, the mother forced to face her child’s corruption. By the time the final act rolls around, you can practically set your watch (pun intended) by the predictable turn of events. It’s not without its moments, but for every spark of originality, Shaman clings just a little too tightly to the genre’s well-worn playbook.
The strongest element of Shaman lies in its thematic core: the clash between devout Christianity and the indigenous spiritual beliefs of those untouched — or unconvinced — by Western religious ideology. This isn’t just window dressing for the horror; it’s baked into the conflict at every level. Candice, a well-meaning-but-rigid missionary, arrives with the belief that faith alone can heal, convert and protect. But as her son falls under the influence of an ancient spirit that predates her theology by centuries, she’s forced to confront the limitations of her worldview.
The film wisely avoids painting either side as wholly right or wrong. The local traditions — rooted in shamanic rituals, ancestral warnings and spiritual balance — are portrayed not as primitive superstition, but as deeply held beliefs that deserve the same reverence Candice gives her own. This tension fuels much of the movie’s emotional weight, as Candice must consider that salvation may not come in the form she expects. It’s in this cultural and spiritual dissonance that Shaman finds its most compelling moments, even if the surrounding horror tropes eventually pull it back into more familiar territory.
I give Shaman three out of five stars. Its isn’t the scariest possession film you’ll see this year, nor is it the most original, but it does try to carve its own path. With a moody atmosphere, a strong lead performance and an earnest exploration of spiritual conflict, it offers more than just the usual jump scares and demonic shrieking.
Where it falters is in its reluctance to fully abandon the genre’s safety net. By the time the third act kicks in, you can feel the story retreating into well-worn territory, trading its unique cultural tension for a more familiar showdown between good and evil. Still, the film’s slow-burn approach and its underlying message about the limits of belief give it a little more weight than expected.
And maybe that’s why the bit with the watch stuck with me. It wasn’t just a plot device — it was a quiet reminder of how objects can carry meaning, memory and a whole lot of emotions that we will sometimes risk a lot to recover. Just like I once dismissed my dad’s gift only to treasure it years later, Shaman is a film that may not seem like much at first glance, but it lingers.
Even now, I still hope I’ll find that watch again, buried somewhere within this house.