The Third Space

A review of Joanna Hogg’s The Eternal Daughter

A gothic manor, creaky floorboards, and a misty atmosphere steeped in unease form the backdrop of The Eternal Daughter, starring Tilda Swinton in a dual role. Swinton plays Julie, a filmmaker who checks into a hotel with her elderly mother (also Swinton), only to discover it was once their family home. What follows is a psychological drama built on haunting soundscapes, dramatic shots, sudden jump scares, and barely-there apparitions.

The cinematography is rich and often foreboding, and it’s this atmosphere that kept me waiting for a defining moment that never quite arrives. The only horror experienced is by Julie, as she imagines noises, shadows, and wanders dark hotel corridors. She appears tightly wound — a devoted, caring daughter, yet weighed down by an unexplained tension in her relationship with her mother. The plot remains frustratingly vague, and the sparse dialogue avoids offering any real clarity. So much is left unsaid that you’re left wondering: what was the point?

The only glimpses of character depth appear in Julie and her mother’s separate exchanges with the butler. And when the revelation does come, it’s delivered so quietly it feels more like an afterthought than a payoff — as if the film is retroactively justifying its own moodiness.

There are films that rely on mood and still leave an indelible mark. Melancholia comes to mind — a film I watched years ago but haven’t forgotten (maybe I’ll write about that next). The Eternal Daughter, however, is passable at best. It tries to visually embody Julie’s internal state — her guilt, confusion, and grief — but the execution is clumsy. The night sounds, imagined hauntings, and eerie silence only serve as distractions from a plot that never fully confronts its emotional core. The climax, when it finally arrives, is dull.

Though just 90 minutes long, the film feels eternal — and not in a good way.

Rating: 6/10 — and that’s mostly for Tilda Swinton and her dog.