Luciferina (2018), directed by Gonzalo Calzada, is an Argentine supernatural horror film that blends religious mysticism, psychological trauma, and raw occult terror. The movie follows Natalia, a 19-year-old novice nun who returns home after her mother’s death. As she confronts a fractured family, buried secrets, and an oppressive spiritual presence, Natalia’s faith and sanity are pushed to the brink.
Natalia's journey begins in a convent, where her life is defined by order and silence. But her return to her family’s decaying mansion awakens nightmarish memories. She reconnects with her estranged sister Angela and is drawn into a group of thrill-seeking friends who dabble in spiritual rituals. What starts as a trip to the jungle for an ayahuasca ceremony becomes a descent into the heart of darkness, where demons—both internal and ancient—are waiting.
Calzada’s direction is bold, stylized, and soaked in Catholic iconography. The film thrives on atmosphere, combining slow-building dread with jarring body horror and surreal, dreamlike imagery. The cinematography uses dim lighting and color contrasts (especially blood-red and shadow-black) to reflect Natalia’s transformation—from a passive observer of evil to a reluctant vessel of supernatural forces.
The film’s true strength lies in its allegorical layers. Luciferina isn’t just about demonic possession—it’s a story of repressed trauma, familial rot, and the painful clash between innocence and sin. Natalia’s journey mirrors a reverse religious pilgrimage: rather than ascending toward divinity, she descends into the flesh and faces a twisted form of spiritual awakening.
While some critics felt the film’s pacing lagged in the middle act, others praised its unique blend of erotic horror and metaphysical questioning. There are moments of explicit imagery that may divide viewers—especially in the final ritualistic sequence—but they serve the narrative's themes of purification through confrontation.
Though Luciferina ends on a note of ambiguous catharsis, there’s rich potential for a sequel—and it may not be far-fetched to imagine Luciferina 2: La Ascensión de la Sombra ("The Rise of the Shadow").
In this hypothetical continuation, Natalia—now a conduit between worlds—is hunted by a secretive sect of exorcists who believe she harbors the true Antichrist. But Natalia isn’t the same innocent girl anymore. With visions of infernal prophecy and growing powers she barely understands, she journeys across South America to uncover the origins of her lineage and confront the demon that first entered her womb.
As she seeks answers, Natalia must battle not only religious authorities and occult forces but also the final remnants of her own humanity. The sequel would delve deeper into Gnostic theology, demonic hierarchies, and the idea of "holy corruption"—where the divine and the diabolical become indistinguishable.
With a more ambitious scale, richer mythological backdrop, and a morally complex protagonist, Luciferina 2 could push the franchise into Hereditary-level horror—where legacy, belief, and terror converge into something unforgettable.
