The Moya View

Chattanooga Film Festival: They Were Witches: **The Wind Spoke Their Names**




They didn’t just find her—she found them. In They Were Witches, director Alejandro G. Alegre trades in pastoral mysticism for a blood-soaked countdown cloaked in midnight folklore. What begins as a quirky detour to a rural motel becomes a staging ground for ritual slaughter, as a group of unsuspecting 20-somethings are marked for death by forces beyond their comprehension.

Tania Niebla plays Mia, a paranormal radio host whose confidence in her occult expertise is tested the moment she crosses the motel’s threshold. Her charm is magnetic, but her presence is no coincidence. The air is thick with rot and prophecy. As night falls, her fascination turns to dread—this is no ghost story to be told from behind a mic. It’s happening now, and it demands bodies.

Karina Lechuga, Sebastián Ladrón de Guevara, Daniela Porras, and Micho Camacho round out the group of travelers whose youthful bravado masks rising terror. They’re not archetypes—they’re bait. One by one, each meets a death that’s less murder than invocation, each act of violence another step in reanimating something ancient and vile.

Alegre directs with the cold patience of a summoner. The motel and its surrounding woods become a living grimoire, pages turning with every scream. There’s beauty here—ashen, rain-slick, and full of menace. Renee Venencie and Catalina Urrutia haunt the margins of the story with chilling conviction, their appearances brief but skin-crawlingly precise.

The horror isn’t just in the gore—it’s in the inevitability. The evil in They Were Witches doesn’t leap from shadows; it seeps. Doors don’t slam. They creak open and wait. Candles don’t flicker—they gutter out all at once. There’s a quiet intelligence behind every frame, as if the movie itself knows what’s coming and refuses to warn you.

By the final act, explanations are luxuries no longer afforded. What matters isn’t who dies—it’s what returns. And as the last name is spoken aloud, the spirit rises… not in triumph, but in hunger.

Atmospheric, unrelenting, and steeped in dread. They Were Witches doesn’t cast spells—it lays traps, and we walk right into them.

Final Grade:B+.




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