Ava Maria Safaid debut with her horror film Foreigner is sure to make waves. This standout exploring the Iranian diasporic experience is the opposite of Juliet and the King, which I reviewed a few days ago. While I’m more familiar with the mythic world of ancient Persia, this story echoes the dilemmas once faced by figures like Siavash and Mithra. Here, Yasamin (played with quiet intensity by Rose Dehgan) is an Iranian teenager whose family has moved to Vancouver, British Columbia, in search of a new beginning.
At home, Persian customs remain strong. But outside those walls, the world she faces is confusing and often against who she is. Her tale is the classic Hero’s Journey, with challenges that are both spiritual and social. Like Siavash, she wants to be seen for who she truly is—but has to prove herself in a place that doesn’t really get her. And like Mithra—a figure from an old Persian religion that isn’t really practiced anymore but still symbolizes things like truth and justice—she’s stuck between family traditions, society’s expectations, and figuring out her own identity. It’s that old struggle of holding on to who you are when everything around you says to change.
The film also touches on Canada’s colonial history in a quiet but powerful way. Yasamin’s experience reminds me of the awful pressure Indigenous kids went through in residential schools. Vancouver talks a lot about multiculturalism, but when neighboring municipalities like Richmond feel dominated by one group and other cultures are scattered, it makes you wonder: What does real multiculturalism even mean?
At its core, Foreigner is a coming-of-age story filtered through a lens of myth and horror. Yasamin’s alienation begins with subtle social slights and escalates into psychological—perhaps even supernatural—possession. Her antagonist, Rachel (a chilling turn by Chloë MacLeod), represents the surface-level friendliness of Western assimilation, beneath which lurks rigid social conformity. The bullying she endures isn’t just personal—it’s cultural, institutional, and existential.
Her grandmother Zoreh (Maryam Sadeghi) steps into the role of reluctant mentor, recalling the archetypes of Joseph Campbell’s monomyth. She suspects something spiritual is at play, but hesitates to name it without proof. Her restraint reflects the intergenerational divide—between those who lived the myth and those now haunted by its remnants.
This movie’s nods to horror classics like Carrie and The Stepford Wives are more introspective. The teenage girls may appear ordinary, but their eerie uniformity builds an uncanny tension. Conformity becomes its own kind of monster. Like the women of Stepford, these teens seem shaped by invisible forces—their identities stripped down, polished, and replicated.
What sets Foreigner apart is how it turns horror inward. Yasamin’s crisis isn’t just about haunting—it’s about identity collapse. The real possession isn’t demonic but cultural: the slow erasure of nuance, contradiction, and selfhood. As the story reaches its climax, this young woman faces a choice: will she disappear into the roles others assign her, or forge a new, authentic self?
Mithra’s presence lingers throughout—not as a punisher, but as a symbol of truth, justice, and standing firm against blind conformity. Though the film only briefly touches on this ancient Persian deity, who inspired a once-secretive mystery cult, we feel his influence as a quiet but powerful moral compass. Similarly, the figure of Siavash—the exiled hero of Persian mythology—echoes this protagonist’s own struggles. Both wrestle with belonging and integrity in worlds that don’t fully accept them. These mythic shadows add depth to the story, enriching it for those familiar with the ancient tales, while still resonating on a universal level.
What I admired most was how this filmmaker builds tension—not by isolating the heroine, but by widening the horror to include the world around her. There are some effective scenes set outdoors, and when the terror becomes collective, everyone takes notice, like in Carrie! In doing so, this film delivers a quietly radical message: we do not suffer alone. Silence, in the face of cultural erasure, is not protection—it’s surrender.
Foreigner is both timely and timeless. Safaid’s screenplay fuses genre with social critique in a way that lingers long after the credits roll. It asks a question that echoes through the immigrant experience: Who must I become to be accepted? And what will it cost me? We’ve all faced that struggle. In today’s world, being truly yourself isn’t easy.
5 Stars out of 5
Foreigner Movie Trailer
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