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The scouts

It wants to be a folk-horror myth-wringer, which is fine, but it lands exactly where you'd expect—three friends, cursed tree, vengeful girl—and never twists the knife hard enough to justify the setup. The legend feels like window dressing for a fairly conventional slasher beat.

Lacave constructs a deliberate, almost classical descent into dread, anchoring the mythology in landscape and ritual rather than jump-scares; the film thinks like a poem about place, where the Cassandra legend becomes a formal architecture for tension that accumulates through restraint and visual repetition.

The sound design isolates each footstep and breath around the tree with such precision that the environment itself becomes the antagonist; that choice—treating ambient space as character—transforms what could be rote folklore into something genuinely disorienting on a budget.