I watched the 2013 version last weekend. Lights off. Big bowl of buttered popcorn. My old soundbar humming. It was raining outside, and honestly, that made it better and worse. You know what? This movie crawled under my skin. Not loud. Not fast. But steady, kind of like water under a door. For a deeper dive into the film’s soaked dread, check out our full write-up on We Are What We Are.
For a comprehensive analysis of "We Are What We Are," consider reading the detailed review on Roger Ebert's website: RogerEbert.com review.
Additionally, the film's Wikipedia page offers an in-depth overview of its plot, production, and reception: We Are What We Are (2013) – Wikipedia.
The setup (no fluff, promise)
A quiet family lives by strict rules. It rains and rains. The girls cook. The dad keeps the faith. The town floods. A doctor starts asking hard questions. That’s the path. Slow, grim, wet.
I’ve seen the original Mexican film too. That one feels raw and sharp. The American remake is softer on the surface, but heavier inside. Like a damp quilt.
What stuck with me
- The rain feels like a character. It never stops. My windows fogged up while I watched, and I swear I could smell wet wood.
- Julia Garner’s eyes do most of the talking. She’s scared, but strong. It’s quiet acting, and it lands.
- The dinner table scenes. The prayer. The careful plates. The way people hold their forks. That polite tension? Oof.
- The doctor working through an old journal. He turns pages with care, like they might bite. I paused to grab a sweater during that part. I felt cold.
Fans of slow, snow-swallowed dread like in We Are Still Here will vibe with the soggy chill here.
Here’s the thing: this isn’t jump-scare horror. It’s grief and duty and secrets. The movie lets you sit with it, even when you don’t want to. If you crave deeper dives into horror’s more unsettling family dynamics, the essays over at All Flesh are a perfect companion read.
One scene I can’t shake
There’s a moment by the river after the storm. The water pulls things out of the ground. Not gore, but proof. The camera doesn’t show too much; it just… suggests. I dropped a popcorn kernel in my lap and didn’t notice for five minutes.
What rubbed me wrong
- The pace gets glacial. Some scenes hang on a look for a beat too long.
- A couple police choices felt silly. You’re like, “Really? You’re going in there alone?” It’s the kind of frustrated shout-at-the-screen moment that reminded me of the sharp, resourceful mayhem in You’re Next.
- The faith angle gets heavy. Not preachy, just weighty. It worked for me, but I get how it could tip over for others.
How I watched it (and why it matters)
I made hot tea halfway through. My cat hid behind the couch during the thunder cracks, then peeked at me like, “Turn it off?” I didn’t. The sound design hums and taps, like pipes in an old house. If you can, watch with good speakers. It adds a lot.
I also paused once to text my sister, “This is so damp.” She sent back a rain cloud and a skull. Felt right.
Little spoiler corner (light, I promise)
The girls carry more than chores. By the end, choice fights duty. It gets messy. It’s not shocking just to shock; it feels earned, like a storm finally breaking.
Who should watch
- You like slow-burn horror with bones (not just noise).
- You enjoy moody stuff like The Witch or The Invitation.
- You can handle sad themes and tight family pressure.
Or, if you want another tragic tale of familial bonds twisted by the supernatural, Guillermo del Toro’s produced Mama (2013) offers a similarly damp, heartbreaking vibe.
Maybe skip it if you need big scares every ten minutes. Or if food scenes make you queasy.
Feeling like you need something lighter after all that atmospheric heaviness? A lot of us look for a quick mental reset once the credits roll, and an easy way to yank your head out of storm-soaked dread is to pop into the no-strings world of Fuckbook where you can connect with other adults for flirtation and casual fun that’s the polar opposite of brooding horror nights.
If the film’s portrait of a rain-drenched, tight-knit community has you curious about real-life, late-night connections in smaller towns, Indiana locals can explore what’s happening after dark via the updated classifieds at Backpage Muncie personals — the site’s fresh listings make it easy to set up discreet, no-pressure meet-ups and replace lingering chills with some warm, real-world company.
Final take
We Are What We Are is a patient, soggy nightmare with heart. It’s careful, not flashy. Some parts drag, but the mood wraps around you and doesn’t let go. I finished it, turned on a lamp, and let the rain keep talking.
Score: 8/10. I’d watch again… maybe not during a storm.
—Kayla Sox