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Title: Mother Nocturna (2024) Director: Daniele Campea Writer: Daniele Campea Studio: Creatives // Buffalo 8 Productions IMDb Plot: The moon has an occult power over Agnese, whose mind begins to disrupt and her body transforms, while the visions of the “God of the woods” intrude on reality. A mother and daughter find themselves alone to deal with the ghosts from the past, locked in a house surrounded by woods, where nightmares take over, and obscure presences become evermore disturbing. Joe Says: The visuals in Mother Nocturna are electrifying; the story needed equal amperage.

More disturbing than frightening, Mother Nocturna is an emotionally dark and visually still movie from Italian filmmaker Daniele Campea. Dealing with themes of solitude and self-doubt, Mother Nocturna (Madre Notturna) presents a character study on a mother and daughter’s relationship to each other as well as to nature. The ominous foreboding in their story is a slow burn; one that ignites too late in waxing moonlight.

Agnese (Susanna Costaglione) is a wolf biologist who returns to her countryside home after an undetermined hospitalization stay in an institution. No sooner does she reconnect with her daughter and husband, then COVId hits. Riccardo, her husband (Edoardo Oliva), is a doctor who is out on calls when he gets hit by the virus, forcing him to recover in isolation away from his family. Agnese and Arianna (Sofia Ponente) try to reconnect but their silence – and the call of the moon – begins to consume Agnese.

Campea constantly works in nature with his imagery: trees, clouds, the moon. The wind is always blowing, which is something Agnese continually senses. While external events have Agnese to slowly unravel, Arianna, somewhat oblivious, retreats into her own inner realm of modern dance, until she too is slowly haunted in her dreams. Key emphasis on the slowness.

Campea beautifully presses the wild nature of outside into the women’s quiet domicile. Yet these moments all seem to be mere bait for a horrific reveal. That shock does come, eventually, but even that showing too is quiet and psychological instead of being threatening and physical. That added physicality was missing from this ponderous movie. 

Mother Nocturna captures interesting characters and Campea subtly builds their backstory. Inspired by Euripides’ The Bacchae, Campea uses those competing themes of struggle for restraint and freedom within both Agnese and Arianna. While Agnese wants to roam and eat, Arianna’s pleasure is solely internal; both are trapped. One could easily, if incorrectly, tie their separate calls of the wild with a monthly cycle. Writer Alan Moore successfully made this leap in DC Comics’ Swamp Thing #40 (Sept 1985). The teen horror film Ginger Snaps employs similar themes, using sex as the transformation impetus. Neither is the case here. Campea instead uses solitude as a psychological click. The ghosts of the past, that are both tempting and terrifying, become the haunt of a quiet existence. 

The finale is frustrating. Campea crafts a wonderfully gothic tale with physical and metaphorical shadows. These shadows, though, remain murky. Agnese and Arianna might go through their own terrors but the viewer is left in the dark. The visuals in Mother Nocturna are electrifying; the story needed equal amperage.