The Hanged Woman — The Ghost That Can’t Even Scare Its Own Shadow

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Spanish cinema has a toxic relationship with horror. It’s not that it lacks ideas—it’s that it recycles them with the same enthusiasm a ghost haunts an abandoned mansion: without conviction. The Hanged Woman is the latest example of this tradition. Directed by Miguel Ángel Lamata—a guy who until now had only dabbled in romantic comedies like Our Lovers (2016)—the film feels like a failed experiment in mashing up The Orphanage and The Others, but without Amenábar’s budget or talent. The result? A patchwork of tropes where the only real scare is how predictable everything is from the very first frame.

The premise is as old as horror cinema itself: Rosa Martín, a singer-songwriter known as The Hanged Woman (Amaia Salamanca), hangs herself in the garden of Fran (Eduardo Noriega), a man who treated her like a sexual object. Her ghost decides to stick around the mansion to torment Fran and his family, because, of course, men who mistreat women always pay… even if it’s a year late and with a script full of holes. The problem isn’t the idea—it’s the execution. Lamata seems to believe that a dark house, a few screams, and a couple of jump scares are enough to build tension. Spoiler: they’re not. Horror isn’t constructed with formulas; it’s built with atmosphere, and here, the atmosphere reeks of mothballs and an Antena 3 thriller.

The cast does what it can with what it’s given, which isn’t much. Amaia Salamanca is, by far, the best of the bunch. Her Rosa Martín has an unsettling, almost poetic presence, and she manages to convey that mix of pain and rage that should be the film’s driving force. The problem is that the script reduces her to an archetype: the betrayed woman who returns from the dead for revenge. Where’s the complexity? Where’s the humanity? Salamanca deserved better than this ghost with a cause role. On the opposite end is Eduardo Noriega, who seems to have wandered in from an episode of El Internado. His Fran is a flat character, a walking cliché of a selfish man who only exists to suffer. There are no nuances, no evolution—just a guy who cries a lot and says lines like Why won’t you leave me alone? every five minutes.

The rest of the cast—Cosette Silguero, Norma Ruiz, Anastasia Fauteck, and Veki Velilla—have so little to do that one wonders why they were even there. Silguero and Ruiz, in particular, are reduced to women who scream and run roles, a waste of talent in a film that already has little to offer. The chemistry between the characters is nonexistent, and that’s a serious problem in a story that relies so heavily on emotional tension. If you don’t care about what happens to the characters, how are you supposed to be scared when something bad happens to them?

Direction and Staging: The Art of the Obvious

Miguel Ángel Lamata isn’t a bad director, but The Hanged Woman proves that horror isn’t his forte. His style is functional, almost televisual, and it shows in every frame. The mansion where most of the action takes place is pretty, sure, but also generic. Teo Delgado, the cinematographer, does a competent job, but there’s nothing memorable about the lighting. The shadows are predictable, the compositions are safe, and long takes are nowhere to be found. In a horror film, cinematography should be a character in itself, not just a sidekick. Here, it doesn’t even rise to that level.

The editing is another weak point. The film has an uneven pace, with scenes that drag unnecessarily and others that rush by too quickly. There are moments when Lamata seems unsure of what to do with the camera, as if he’s waiting for the script to give him a hint. The jump scares, for example, are so predictable that you can time them with a stopwatch. The sound, meanwhile, is a disaster. The score is intrusive when it should be subtle, and the sound effects—like ghostly footsteps or whispers—sound like they were pulled from a YouTube tutorial. Where’s the sound design that should envelop you and make you jump in your seat?

Mayte Navales’ script is The Hanged Woman’s true Achilles’ heel. It’s not just predictable—it’s packed with clunky dialogue, forced situations, and characters who act illogically just to move the plot forward. There’s a scene where Rosa Martín tells Fran, You can’t run from me, as if she’s the villain from a Saw movie. Seriously? Is that the depth they’re giving the ghost? On top of that, the film makes the mistake of over-explaining everything. Instead of letting the mystery flow, Navales opts to answer questions no one was asking, as if she’s afraid the audience won’t get it. Spoiler: if you need to explain that much, something’s very wrong.

The best

• Amaia Salamanca: The only reason to watch this film. Her portrayal of Rosa Martín is the only thing that saves the character from being just another cliché. She has a magnetic presence, even when the script forces her to say ridiculous lines.

• The initial premise: The idea of a ghost who refuses to be ignored and decides to torment her tormentor has potential. Too bad the execution doesn’t live up to it.

• Some of Teo Delgado’s shots: While the cinematography is uneven, there are a few frames—like Rosa Martín reflected in a broken mirror—that show Delgado knows what he’s doing when he’s allowed to.

The worst

• Mayte Navales’ script: A disaster from start to finish. Clunky dialogue, flat characters, and a plot that stumbles along. It feels like it was written by someone who’s watched too many horror movies but hasn’t understood any of them.

• Eduardo Noriega: His portrayal of Fran is so over-the-top it feels like a parody. He screams, cries, and suffers as if he’s in a 70s melodrama, not a supernatural thriller.

• The jump scares: So predictable you can guess them with your eyes closed. The accompanying sound is so generic it could’ve come from a free sound effects library.

• The pacing: The film doesn’t know if it wants to be slow and atmospheric or fast and action-packed. The result is a mess that doesn’t work at any point.

• The sound design: The score is intrusive, and the sound effects sound cheap. In a horror film, sound should be a tool to build tension, not a nuisance.

The Verdict of Claqueta Ácida

The Hanged Woman is a perfect example of how not to make a horror film. Miguel Ángel Lamata had a golden opportunity to explore vengeance from a supernatural perspective, but instead, he gave us a patchwork of clichés with a script that feels like it was scribbled on a napkin. Amaia Salamanca saves what little can be saved, but not even her talent is enough to redeem this shipwreck. If you’re looking for scares, go to an amusement park. If you’re looking for cinema, look elsewhere. This isn’t horror—it’s a thriller with delusions of grandeur. 💀

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