In Jon Bell’s debut feature, The Moogai, a haunting tale unfolds as an Aboriginal Australian mother faces terrifying visions of a child-stealing creature.

Set against a dark backdrop of history, the film begins with a chilling fact: from 1910 to 1970, the Australian government forcibly removed Indigenous children from their families. This painful chapter serves as a crucial context for Sarah (played by Shari Sebbens), a lawyer about to give birth to her second child. Despite her modern life, Sarah’s struggles echo the past of her community.
But what exactly is a ‘moogai’? This Bundjalung term can mean spirit, Bogey Man, or stealer of children. Throughout the film, Sarah wrestles with both supernatural threats and her own family history. Raised by a white family deemed “more suitable” by authorities, Sarah grapples with her identity and relationships, especially with her biological mother, Ruth (Tessa Rose).
As Sarah approaches childbirth, she suffers physically and mentally. Her husband, Fergus (Meyne Wyatt), is warned that the experience could take a toll on her well-being. Shortly after giving birth, she starts having nightmarish visions of a child with skeletal hands reaching for her newborn. Over time, the line between reality and hallucination blurs, as well-meaning figures—from teachers to police—begin to doubt her parenting abilities. Are their fears based on genuine concern or deeply rooted prejudice?
The film’s cinematography cleverly contrasts the characters’ lives. Sarah’s sterile, modern apartment starkly contrasts with Ruth’s vibrant and culturally rich attire and traditions, highlighting their emotional distance. This visual storytelling amplifies the themes of disconnection from cultural roots.
In a pivotal moment, when Sarah and her family confront the moogai, she begins to embrace her heritage. Nature and ancestral wisdom become her allies against the sinister force threatening her family. The ominous reveal of the moogai is a striking moment, visually stunning in its depiction of fear and folklore.
Yet, while the premise is engaging, the plot follows a linear trajectory that leaves little room for surprises. The film’s social commentary sometimes feels heavy-handed, with dialogue that lacks subtlety. The performances, though competent, don’t quite deliver the emotional depth needed to fully engage the audience.
The Moogai is part of a growing trend in horror that explores postcolonial themes, blending folklore with modern trauma. Recent shifts in cinema have seen more filmmakers addressing colonial histories through unique narratives. This creative exploration invites viewers to confront uncomfortable truths while entertaining them. Nevertheless, while the film is a promising debut, it doesn’t break new ground in the horror genre.
For those interested in Indigenous stories and cultural narratives, The Moogai offers insight into a rich but painful history, wrapped in a chilling horror narrative. As cinema continues to evolve, more films like this could pave the way for deeper understanding and appreciation of diverse histories.
For further reading on Indigenous Australian history and its impacts, consider visiting the Australian Government’s website on the Stolen Generations: [Stolen Generations](https://www.niaa.gov.au/resources/publications/stolen-generations).