Filmmaker Robert Budreau clearly loves A24 films—Queen of Bones borrows many of the studio’s signature elements, and that’s a strength. The atmosphere perfectly frames the story of siblings Lily (Julia Butters) and Sam (Jacob Tremblay), struggling to survive under the oppressive hand of their overbearing Protestant father (Martin Freeman). Every interaction with him carries weight, and the tension is palpable. Even the muted colour palette and the sparse, wind-whipped Oregon landscapes heighten the siblings’ vulnerability, turning the setting into an emotional character in its own right.
From the very beginning, psychological unease and a lingering sense of dread define the tone. Set during the Great Depression in the outskirts of Oregon, the story conveys survival as a matter of personal resourcefulness rather than community support. Every quiet moment is loaded with unease; the audience senses the siblings’ fear before any overt threat appears. This slow-building tension is classic: fear grows organically from circumstance and character, not cheap scares.
The film is deeply character-driven. Lily’s sudden ability to communicate with nature is central, but it isn’t treated as full-blown witchcraft—her isolation and emotional struggles take centre stage. Lily’s perspective drives the story, and her quiet resilience mirrors the kind of flawed, human protagonists as champions. The narrative focuses on her growth, not teenage romance, with a minor side character providing occasional support rather than a conventional love interest.
When the siblings discover a book of spells, the story takes a subtle turn toward folk horror. Lily embraces the magic quickly, while everyone else trembles. The spells and supernatural hints are understated, letting imagination fill in the blanks—a technique that builds dread without spectacle. This restraint, paired with deliberate pacing, mirrors the other studio’s signature approach: tension and unease emerge gradually, often just in time to avoid monotony.
Although the film leans more toward coming-of-age than outright terror, it still captures existential anxieties. The Depression-era setting and patriarchal oppression create a grounded, human-scale horror. Budreau captures internal dread as effectively as external danger—the audience feels trapped alongside Lily. The claustrophobic tension and focus on Lily’s perspective evoke echoes of The Lighthouse and The Witch, even if the ending is predictable.
Ultimately, Queen of Bones feels like an A24 production because of its character-focused narrative, slow-burn dread, period atmosphere, and psychological complexity. It’s a measured, thoughtful horror story that introduces us to a unique world without overexplaining it.
3½ Stars out of 5
Queen of Bones Movie Trailer
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