DARK WATERS: Lovecraft and Nuns

Many people continue to wait for a definitive adaptation of H.P. Lovecraft‘s work. Carpenter’s ironic and inventive In the Mouth of Madness, or Re-Animator and From Beyond—both steeped in grotesque, macabre flair—didn’t quite satisfy cinephiles yearning for boundless terror, loathsome monstrosities, and creeping dread. But no matter; here is Dark Waters, a film that, while not a one-to-one adaptation, superbly captures Lovecraft’s spirit on screen. Although it doesn’t draw directly from any specific Lovecraft text (it most closely resembles The Shadow Over Innsmouth), it exudes his characteristic horror. Moreover, it stands as an outstanding horror film in its own right, Lovecraftian influence aside. Prepare for a viewing filled with unorthodox darkness, a dense atmosphere, and stunning aesthetics.

The story begins as Elizabeth, a young Englishwoman, arrives at a convent located on a small island somewhere in Eastern Europe. Her family has long funded this religious institution. Now, Elizabeth must investigate why her friend, who recently joined the convent, has been sending increasingly distressing letters. Upon her arrival, she finds that her friend has gone missing and that the nuns are hiding something. To confront the horrors lurking within the convent walls, Elizabeth must revisit memories from her childhood.
Lovecraft and nuns?! It’s a concept that could have gone disastrously wrong. But it didn’t.

Mariano Baino, a fan of Lovecraft, Hammer horror films, and the works of Dario Argento and Mario Bava, has created a masterful blend of horror motifs. It’s hard to believe this is the first—and only—film from the director, who later transitioned to writing screenplays. It’s also notable as the first movie produced in Ukraine after its separation from the Soviet Union. Let’s start with the aesthetics, as they leave a particularly strong impression. Dark Waters is a visual feast. The filmmakers opted for natural locations—perfectly chosen and hauntingly dark. There’s no cardboard or plastic here. Dark Waters feels organic, rugged, and far removed from comic-book stylization. The island is a gloomy, windswept place full of eerie sounds. Though the story takes place in the modern day, it looks like a world from centuries past. The ancient convent walls feel authentically aged, and you can almost sense the damp mustiness in the air. Moisture is everywhere, and the only illumination comes from candles—sometimes used in the hundreds—that heighten the horror of the underground scenes, proving that light can be just as ominous as darkness.

The film is a collection of scenes and images that linger in your memory. Its somber tone and celebration of darkness, achieved with unpretentious but striking cinematography, carry a distinctly European sensibility. Baino’s visual artistry calls to mind the works of Bava, Argento, and even Lucio Fulci. Like Bava’s films, Dark Waters features compositions so beautiful they seem ready-made for your wall, a T-shirt, or a tattoo.

The consistency and immersiveness of the world Baino creates rival those of big-budget productions. Yet Dark Waters isn’t derivative; it pays homage to its influences while forging its own unique horror tapestry. Unlike postmodern horror that often veers into parody, this film remains steadfastly serious, pulling viewers into a world of darkness and dread. You don’t need to be a Lovecraft scholar or a horror aficionado to feel its impact.

The film’s visual palette is dominated by browns and yellows. Many scenes are bathed in candlelight, with the flickering flames adding texture to the convent’s corridors. The candles are real, not CGI, and so are the damp stones of the ancient walls. The sound design is chilling: footsteps echoing in the dark, screams, laments, splashes, growls, the singing of a child, and the wailing of a burning woman—all of which evoke what Lovecraft might describe as “cold, godless sounds.” If I had a metal band, I’d sample some of these noises. Fans of blasphemous horror will feel right at home with the film’s torches, shadowy processions, crucifixes, eerie passages, and grotesque imagery that seems drawn from the Joker’s subconscious.

Blood, death, and decay are ever-present, but the film doesn’t rely on excessive gore. Much like Lovecraft himself, Baino prefers to weave a chilling narrative rather than shock the audience with graphic violence. Yet, when the film does indulge in grotesque imagery, it does so effectively. The result is a world that feels alien, otherworldly, and profoundly disturbing. Despite its modest budget, the film never feels cheap. Its world is cohesive and richly atmospheric—qualities often absent even in high-budget productions.

Elizabeth’s sense of entrapment is portrayed with precision. The series of bizarre events makes her realize she can trust no one. Alone and desperate, she searches for answers about her past while battling a growing sense of doom. Louise Salter, restrained yet expressive, delivers a nuanced performance as Elizabeth. There’s no hysteria or heroism in her portrayal—just a woman trying to survive and uncover the truth. In true Lovecraftian fashion, her physical and mental strength steadily erodes. Confronting inhuman terror, she faces inevitable defeat, be it death, madness, or something worse.

The film’s second half, particularly the last half-hour, becomes a symphony of strange sounds that permeate the background, affecting both Elizabeth and the viewer. The slow editing, Salter’s increasingly trance-like performance, and the whispers filling the air create a hypnotic effect. While the film has few special effects, those that exist are practical and tastefully done. The music, however, is somewhat lacking—generic and unremarkable. A more compelling score could have amplified the film’s immersive quality.

As for the nuns? They exude plenty of menace, but their presence has led to some misunderstandings. The film is sometimes associated with the nunsploitation genre—horror centered on convents, often featuring eroticism and violence. While Dark Waters does explore the secrets and crimes of a convent, the nuns remain fully clothed and steer clear of sadomasochistic antics. The film merely nods to certain elements of the genre without fully embracing them.

The plot unfolds at a measured pace, but the mesmerizing visuals and atmosphere hold the audience’s attention. Though the story itself is not particularly original—relying on familiar tropes like an outsider entering a closed, mysterious community—it’s executed with skill, and the film’s exceptional craftsmanship makes it impossible to look away. This is cinema with power and vitality. Compared to Carpenter’s In the Mouth of Madness, which diluted its Lovecraftian essence with irony and Sam Neill’s over-the-top (albeit entertaining) performance, Dark Waters takes a more serious and ambitious approach. Baino’s film aligns more closely with Lovecraft’s grim worldview, where humanity is insignificant in the face of cosmic horrors.

Dark Waters avoids humor, instead delivering a pure and refreshing horror experience. Its seriousness, almost archaic in today’s cinematic landscape, works to its advantage. The film never stumbles into absurdity, even as it ventures into grotesque territory in its final act. Place it alongside Stuart Gordon’s Dagon (another Lovecraft adaptation), and you’ll notice a stark contrast: Gordon’s film is more mechanical and flashy, while Baino’s is thoughtful and atmospheric.

Now for the crucial question: Is it scary? Absolutely. You’ll likely jump at certain moments, and the oppressive atmosphere will grip you throughout the runtime—and possibly linger after the credits roll. Unfortunately, Dark Waters remains largely unknown, hindered by a lack of proper promotion—a fate that befalls many independent productions. Yet it’s a labor of love and passion, a low-budget gem with a big heart. Consistent and beautiful—yes, beautiful, for even hardened horror fans will find its artistry enchanting.