It’s 1976 and the Olmedo family has decided to uproot their lives, moving from the countryside to the hustle and bustle of Madrid. Little do they know that their new flat comes furnished not only with sofas and dusty photographs but a malevolent spirit set on making their transition harder than they could have ever imagined. This slick and spooky Spanish-language supernatural-thriller takes interest in the human element and horror alike, calling to mind movies like The Conjuring and Haunting of Hill House and delivering scares with an international appeal.

Allegedly based on a true story, 32 Malasaña Street challenges notions of familial bonds and societal acceptance through its delivery of a classical supernatural haunting. Directed with impressive panache and eye for detail by Alberto Pintó, 32 Malasaña Street features a strong cast led by Begoña Vargas, Iván Marcos, Bea Segura, Sergio Castellanos, José Luis de Madariaga, Iván Renedo, and Javier Botet, whose choice performances ground the story in humanism and realism.

Speaking of his approach, Pintó claims, “The most important thing was that the horror came from everyday reality, from Spanish reality. To feel that, in the course of ordinary life, something could snap and become dangerous and evil.” As mounting supernatural stakes challenge their sense of security, 32 Malasaña Street falls back on the human element, allowing scenes to breathe and linger instead of opting for blink-and-you-miss-it jump scares and the result is exponentially scarier.

In addition to the all-encompassing good performances, 32 Malasaña Street boasts standout sound design and a killer score from Frank Montasell and Lucas Peire that mixes a traditional sonic eeriness with a techno-thump that keeps viewer’s hairs thoroughly raised throughout. Daniel Sosa’s shadowy cinematography invites viewers to search the frame for lurking demons, an effective measure to keep tensions high which is sustained throughout.

Pintó’s film, which attempts to backlight the Olmedo’s story with a sense of national hopefulness as the country outside edges away from dictatorship, finds horror in the home. In the daylight. In confrontations between the family. In expectations and histories that fester and destoy. His exploration of how family members become powerless through the denial of affection is particularly notable as the film moves towards its unexpected and surprisingly sad conclusion.

32 Malasaña Street does not really break any new ground – it’s a supernatural haunt through and through – and relies on a good many familiar genre trope (creaky chairs, obscured figures, unexplained whispers), but Pintó’s remixing of these familiar elements works surprisingly well, at least in part because he makes it specific to the time and place of 1970’s Spain. The introduction of an LGBTQ+ element adds thematic layers to the story, giving a new twist to the played-out haunted house story, that lends the film an unexpected tragic tonality. As the misfitted characters attempt to band together, 32 Malasaña Street celebrates the outcasts and assigns them power rarely seen in horror films.

CONCLUSION: Fans of supernatural hauntings will find a lot to appreciate with the genuinely unsettling ’32 Malasaña Street’, a deftly-directed and smartly acted humanist horror movie that remixes familiar elements to laudable ends.