[Fantasia 2020 Review] The Funeral Home/La Funeraria Looks Great but is Empty

On paper, the premise to writer/director Mauro Iván Ojeda’s debut film The Undertaker’s Home/La Funeraria sounds incredibly promising. An undertaker who runs his mortuary business from his residence is haunted by mischievous supernatural entities who make life difficult for him and his blended family. The execution, however, falls a little short mostly because of the undercooked script.

Bernardo (Luis Machín) is said undertaker whose front-facing business is immaculate, but whose home life is a mess, both literally and figuratively. The yard between his business and his home looks storm-ravaged and they’ve erected a porta potty because their bathroom is currently occupied by a less-than-friendly ghost at night. His new wife Estela (Celeste Gerez) was in a previously abusive relationship but her first husband died in some kind of biking accident and while living with Bernardo isn’t peachy, it’s better than her life used to be. Estela’s daughter Irina (Camila Vaccarini), meanwhile, hates Bernardo, hates that she’s living in a haunted house, and hates Estela enough to keep tormenting her mother with pictures of Irina’s dead father/Estela’s former abuser. Irina doesn’t seem to care or understand just how miserable Estela was with her ex…and it’s one of the storylines that’s never fully developed or explored. 

Another storyline that’s only half-baked is that of Bernardo’s father, who has also passed before the movie begins. According to Estela, he was involved in “dark stuff” and was upset that Estela and Irina had moved into the home he shared with his son. It’s kind of the main thrust of the story, but it’s never developed in the first half so that revelations that come later lack much of a punch. Too much of the early narrative beats are about how unhappy Irina is and how she wants to move in with her paternal grandmother, a woman who is manipulative and downright evil. To fully explain her evilness, Estela tells a story of an altercation with her former husband that left her with a bruised and swollen eye. And while the grandmother tendered to her bruise by putting an ice pack on her eye, she would regale Estela with how amazing her son was.  

Meanwhile, at night unspecified ghosts haunt the house. A shaman named Ramona (Susan Varela) later explains that she had originally quarantined the ghosts to specific areas, like the yard and specific rooms like the house (hence the porta potty they’re required to use at night). It’s such a small and rather insignificant detail to the plot, but it’s not even mentioned or explained until we’re nearing the climax. Small details like this should help build the world and give the single-set location a sense of history while easing us into the weird situation Bernardo’s family finds themselves in…and yet, it’s relegated to the third act.

The script continually back-loads information like this, I guess to try and build an air of mystery? The ghosts also leave notes everywhere and write on condensation on the windows, but to what end? We never get a feeling for the ghosts, outside of Bernardo sometimes shouting their names. Then there’s an extended nighttime sequence where Bernardo stands stark naked in his living room communing with the spirits after playing with a doll with a presumably younger spirit…or the same spirit? I don’t know and I don’t judge. But it feels particularly underdeveloped.

I love ambiguous narratives, but there’s a difference between ambiguity and just not having a solid script. The Undertake’s Home is bursting with ideas but they never seem to coalesce into anything other than momentary nighttime spookiness. Meanwhile, thematically, the script spirals out and doesn’t seem to want to make a decision about what the story is actually about. Is it about a father and his son who had an “unhealthy relationship”? Is it about a young girl trying to find meaning after her father’s death? Is it about cycles of abuse and trauma? It’s ultimately about none of these because every time an issue or plot thread is introduced, it’s summarily ignored. 

It’s a shame because visually the film is exquisite. Mauro Iván Ojeda utilizes a couple really cool tracking shots, including one that opens the film and establishes a sense of location while simultaneously showcasing the weirdness in the home. The opening shot culminates in an abandoned room with an empty bed that slowly depresses as if an invisible being sits on it. Later sequences with motion-sensing lights and a brief shot of a demonic hand helps goose the horror. Scenes and sequences like this prove that Ojeda has a clear vision and is able to set up creepy situations with aplomb while drenching the house in Gothic goodness. Ultimately, Ojeda has a better grasp of directing and visual storytelling than he does screenwriting.