Movie Review: Lilim

“Hell is a place on earth” is not just a tagline in Lilim—it is the film’s chilling thesis.

Directed by Mikhail Red, Lilim is a Filipino supernatural horror film that follows Issa (Heaven Peralejo), a teenage girl on the run after killing her abusive father. Fleeing the authorities, she escapes into the forest with her younger brother Tomas (Skywalker David), seeking refuge in a secluded orphanage run by nuns led by the unsettling Sister Marga (Eula Valdez). What initially appears to be a sanctuary soon unravels into a nightmarish hellscape, as Issa uncovers blood rituals, a sacrificial cult, and the worship of a fearsome nocturnal entity known as Lilim. As the orphanage’s true purpose is revealed, Issa is forced to fight not only for her survival, but for her brother’s life.

What truly makes Lilim shine is its haunting atmosphere and immersive world-building. The film makes you feel like an active participant in the mystery, piecing together the truth alongside Issa as the story unfolds. Every corner of the orphanage feels oppressive, every silence ominous, and every revelation deeply unsettling. The cinematography is phenomenal—each frame is meticulously composed and tells its own story, heightening the dread and sense of inevitability. It is visually striking without being excessive, allowing the horror to creep in naturally and linger long after the jump scares hit.

The performances are another major strength. Heaven Peralejo delivers one of her strongest performances to date, grounding the film with raw emotion and believable fear. Skywalker David is equally compelling, adding vulnerability and heart to the story. The supporting cast elevates the horror further, with Eula Valdez, Ryza Cenon, Phoebe Walker, and Nicole Emilio portraying truly terrifying figures of authority. Their presence alone is enough to make the orphanage feel unsafe, reinforcing the film’s themes of control, abuse, and false sanctity.

Beyond the scares, Lilim subtly weaves in political and social commentary, reflecting the oppressive atmosphere of the Philippines in 1983 under the Marcos regime. This historical backdrop adds weight to the narrative, turning the cult and its rituals into a metaphor for systemic violence, blind obedience, and silenced suffering.

Mikhail Red once again proves his mastery of the horror genre, confidently elevating Filipino horror filmmaking with precision, ambition, and a clear artistic vision. Lilim is not just scary—it is immersive, well-crafted, and deeply unsettling in the best way possible. Easily one of the best and most competently made Filipino horror films in recent years.

 

My Verdict: 4/5