The Surrender is a dark film about loss and grief. It's an exploration of letting go of a loved one, but more importantly, letting go of the complex emotions surrounding our memories of them. When a family member dies, there's a moment when it feels unreal, as if there isn't a clear distinction between life and death. As we stare at a lifeless corpse, it's hard for our brains to reconcile existence in one moment, then non-existence in the next. It feels as though there's a middle ground, like a gray transition period between light and darkness. That was my experience with the loss of my parents. Written and directed by Julia Max, The Surrender is a deeply personal meditation on what death means to those left behind and the layers of memories we keep of them, both real and imagined.
Soon after the film begins, terminally ill Robert (Vaughn Armstrong) dies in his sleep while his wife Barbara (Kate Burton) and daughter Megan (Colby Minifie) are at his bedside. It's clear there are years of complicated family dynamics at play, especially between mother and daughter. Barbara seems to have been on a spiritual quest in recent years, a process that Megan doesn't understand, but grudgingly accepts as Mom's harmless new-age hobby.
That changes when Barbara announces that she has spent what's left of her life's savings to hire a mysterious spiritual guru to perform a ritual to bring her husband back to life. But before beginning, the mom and daughter must destroy all of Robert's personal possessions in a ritualistic bonfire. Everything. Even precious photos and other keepsakes. How much would you sacrifice in order to have a dead loved one back? This is the first of three surrenders.
The movie proceeds to take us through a multi-day, esoteric ritual designed to strip Megan and Barbara of everything, including their relationships to Robert. Key events in Megan's childhood are brought to light as her mom reveals different memories and a more nuanced view of her husband as a father. Trauma can last us a lifetime, but maybe learning more facts can change our perception of a person. We often think of our parents in very binary terms and it's only after their deaths that we begin to see them in a more realistic light. At its heart, The Surrender ponders why we wait until death to get to know our loved ones.
Like the beautifully disturbing A Dark Song (2016), The Surrender grounds its supernatural elements in raw emotional stakes. Both films center on women who are grieving and willing to endure harrowing spiritual rituals in hopes of reconnecting with the dead. And both movies are brilliant examples of the "ritual procedural" subgenre. But where A Dark Song is driven by a mother's singular desperation, The Surrender is more ambiguous and layered-it's not just about longing, but also about reckoning with the truth of who someone was. Julia Max's film leans deeper into the psychological toll of unearthing buried family memories and trauma, using the ritual not only as a spiritual gateway but as an emotional autopsy. It's less about reunion and more about release.
Julia Max's writing and direction (in her feature film debut) are powerful and concise. The candle-lit darkness of a single room in the family's house gradually grows claustrophobic and begins to feel like we are in a tomb. And then it sinks deeper into a darkness of nothingness. Just abandonment and resignation. The Surrender is a sad movie with a chilling ending that has a spark of redemption. It's a reminder to tell people we love them while they are still alive.
The performances are outstanding. Colby Minifie's emotional portrayal of Megan had me in tears near the end. She shows a vulnerability, especially relating to her mom, that feels raw and unrehearsed. The dynamic between mother and daughter is as real as it gets. Kate Burton plays Barbara as a woman who has only recently begun finding her voice and her strength. There's a tragedy to the character, who is a product of a different generation who can only discover herself after her husband is dead.
The Surrender is the type of small horror film I adore. It's clearly made with passion that everyone involved with the movie seemed to share. This is a film for horror fans who like supernatural stories that challenge you to look inward at your own relationships. There are moments of violence and gore, creepy vibes, and a powerful sense of themes that make us uncomfortable. Casual movie-goers may find the pacing slow, especially in the first half, but I don't think the film is intended for widespread appeal: this isn't entry-level horror. As someone who has watched thousands of horror films over the years, this sits in my sweet spot as a movie that sticks with me. No doubt, it will be in my top ten films of 2025.
How much of yourself are you willing to surrender in order to make peace with the past? The Surrender invites us into that liminal space between love and loss, and leaves us haunted by what we find there.
