One of the most unsettling stories to emerge from the Japanese NOH theater tradition is that of Onibaba, or the “demon hag.” Famously adapted in Kaneto Shindô’s 1964 film, the story follows a young wife and her mother-in-law who try to make sense of their fractured lives when the man they’re waiting for dies in battle. Destabilized by the presence of her son’s best friend, the older woman uses a hellish mask to pose as a demon and scare her daughter-in-law away from his bed.

Though frequently set in feudal Japan, this folkloric morality play feels surprisingly relevant on the modern screen. Writer/director Natasha Kermani (V/H/S/85, Immitation Girl) reframes this troubled triangle in The Dreadful, an adaptation of the Onibaba legend set in England’s tumultuous Dark Ages.

Anne (Sophie Turner) and her mother-in-law, Morwen (Marcia Gay Harden), have built a simple life together while waiting for Seamus (Laurence O’Fuarain) to return from war. When his friend Jago (Kit Harington) returns instead, heartbreaking news throws their easy alliance into chaos. No longer bound by the man they both loved, Anne and Morwen must scramble to find their own stability in an aggressively patriarchal world. As Anne begins sneaking away to visit Jago, a sinister figure lurks in the shadows. An imposing knight on mounted horseback blocks her path, seeming to warn the young widow away from sinful temptation. Allegiances and empathy shift as these three lonely souls grow more desperate for companionship.

Ahead of the film’s February 20th release, Bloody Disgusting sat down with Kermani to chat about ethereal horror and masculine symbols of power and greed.

Sophie Turner as Anne in the horror film, THE DREADFUL, a Lionsgate release. Photo courtesy of Lionsgate.

You’ve called The Dreadful a passion project. What draws you to this Japanese legend, and why retell the story through a gothic lens?

I’m drawn to the image of these two women in this desolate landscape and a relationship you really don’t see that often, especially in a horror space, of two women who are not biologically related. We have quite a few mother-daughter relationships, but this one is unique. Even in the original Buddhist folktale, it’s a mother-in-law and a daughter-in-law struggling over their relationship. It’s really intriguing to see women living on their own at this time. We’ve of course seen plenty of movies about lords and kings going to war, but this felt like a rich story and relationship to mine.

I also liked the setting in particular. I knew I wanted it to be set in the Dark Ages, but the mid to end of the 15th century is interesting. It’s the end of the Dark Ages, so it’s the last gasp, if you will, of this era of darkness, of magic and demons. We’re moving into the time of Shakespeare, Queen Elizabeth, Martin Luther, and we’re almost to the modern world and our modern relationship to stories and religion. There’s a lot of change coming. So I was intrigued to explore that as the setting.

The original Onibaba mask resembles an older woman, and the name Onibaba translates to “demon hag.” Your version of the story reimagines this figure as a knight in full armor, which is a much more masculine symbol. How did you approach designing your demon knight, and was that injection of masculinity intentional?

Definitely. This is a big departure from the Onibaba myth. Onibaba is the demon hag, so it’s definitely very female-coded, very witchy. And that’s really not what our entity is. He is very masculine. He’s almost more like a God of War. I grew up loving Arthurian legend and the myths of Avalon. So you might even see a little bit of the Green Knight in him. The details on his armor are all green. There’s a lot of influence from the Arthurian legend there. And in fact, we filmed in Tintagel, Cornwall, which is where King Arthur was allegedly born. So there was a kind of magic in the air.

During the time of the War of the Roses, battle had become almost commonplace for these folks. It was the men in the labor class going to war, very different from a king who was fighting for glory or a crown. For these guys, it was like, “Okay, well, here’s an opportunity for me to make a ton of money all at once.” In my research, I discovered that commoners would often kidnap and ransom a local lord to get a bunch of money and then be able to raise their social status from that point.

So it’s this interesting relationship to war as an industry and this pre-capitalist attitude of, “I can make a bunch of money and change my social standing.” So when this male character, Seamus, Morwen’s son and Anne’s husband, goes to war, he wants to make money. The idea is that he will come back, and they’re going to be able to build another house and have more food and more abundance throughout. So when he does not come back, that’s when the plan starts to go off the rails. Our mask, if you want to think of it that way, is an embodiment of all that energy that Seamus took with him when he went to war.

There are a couple of other differences in your version of the story, particularly when it comes to Jago’s return. How did you approach adapting this legend, and how do these alterations affect your understanding of the folklore?

Yeah, I’ve always loved this. I call it the “Monkey’s Paw” attitude of horror, which I think is also a little bit folkloric, because a lot of it comes out of these morality plays. Folklore exists to teach children how to act, what to do, and what not to do. A lot of times, the horror of folklore comes as a consequence of the character’s own actions. And this is in keeping with that. I’ll just say it’s all connected to this ancient attitude of a horror story and a warning to watch out with what you’re doing.

A large part of the myth revolves around using religion as a tool of fear. Anne is very religious, and we first meet her during a church service with Morwen. How does religion factor into the story?

Well, this is sort of the last age where the Catholic Church has total control over the Christian faith in Europe. Which, of course, is not completely true, because there’s always been these little sects. That’s part of the genius of the Catholic Church is that they were able to sort of embrace all of these different attitudes. However, to me, the church represents another institution in the film, alongside the mother-in-law. Morwen leans on this idea of the institution of familial responsibility. “You are the daughter-in-law, I’m the mother-in-law. You are responsible for doing what I say and taking care of me.” So the church as an institution is one of the elements being put upon Anne.

However, she is a deeply spiritual person. And that comes back to this folkloric attitude of a woman trying to find the right path, a good path, or a good life. I think Sophie did a really beautiful job of bringing the spirituality Anne embodies to the role. That sort of goodness is also her connection to the church. It’s her refuge, it’s a place of safety for her. There’s a difference between the institution and how Morwen views responsibility and the church; laws versus Anne’s own relationship to good and bad. We see that those things do not always line up.

(L-R) Marcia Gay Harden as Morwen and Sophie Turner as Anne in the horrorm film, THE DREADFUL, a Lionsgate release. Photo courtesy of Lionsgate

What has always fascinated me about the story of Onibaba is the connection Morwen and Anne share. They’ve built a sort of female utopia, and then a man intrudes …

And ruins it all [Laughs]

He ruins it all. [Laughs] He corrupts the female space they’ve built. With that in mind, who do you see as the protagonist of the story, and who do you see as the villain? Or is it more complicated than simple good and bad?

It’s certainly not that simple. The genre elements all spin out of what the main character, Anne,  is experiencing. But Morwen sees herself as the main character of the film. She’s doing what she thinks she needs to do, and she’s afraid of being alone. She doesn’t want to be left behind. She doesn’t have her son anymore. She doesn’t have anything in this world, so she’s holding on as hard as she can to her daughter-in-law. I think that’s part of why Morwen is such a fun character. I know myself and my team, we love her. She’s our favorite because she’s not doing evil things for evil reasons. She’s doing them because she doesn’t want to be alone, and what’s more relatable than that?

Would you consider The Dreadful a feminist story?

I would say so because I think it shows the limitations the patriarchy puts on a character like Morwen, who has suffered under this system and was never able to be free of it. She has been put in this situation where she has brought her son up to be this ambitious, cruel guy because he is her tool. He is her method in the patriarchy to survive, to thrive, to have abundance. And so when she resorts to doing nasty things, I think she’s working within a system that isn’t really built for her to thrive. Anne, in a lot of ways, to me, exists outside of that system and becomes a little more saintly in her own way. She rejects the system and finds her own path.

You also directed the 2020 film Lucky, and more recently, you adapted the Joe Hill story Abraham’s Boys. Both of these films involve taking stories we’re familiar with and presenting them in a new, often horrific, light. What can we learn from reexamining this 14th-century Japanese folk legend through the lens of a modern filmmaker?

I think, unfortunately, it’s still that question of “do we really know the people around us?” Everyone’s telling their own story about themselves and their relationships to God, their relationships to war and to each other, the relationship of husband to wife. All of those are defined by the narratives we tell ourselves and each other. I think Anne feels a little bit betrayed. The people she thought were on her side or had her best interests at heart, in fact, did not. I think that’s something we’re all really struggling with right now. How to better understand each other, as humans and not necessarily just through the lens of social media. Can we truly understand each other’s needs and desires? Can we help each other and be in healthy, not toxic, relationships?

The Dreadful releases in select theaters and on Digital on February 20, 2026.