Acacia

Acacia is a quiet and unsettling Korean horror film that builds tension around family, loss, and guilt. Directed by Park Ki-hyung, it follows a married couple, Mi-sook and Do-il, who adopt a six-year-old boy named Jin-sung after failing to have their own child.

The boy is distant and strange, spending his time drawing and sitting under a dead acacia tree in their yard. When Mi-sook becomes pregnant, Jin-sung grows jealous and withdrawn, believing the tree is his real mother. After a stormy night, he disappears. Soon after, the lifeless tree begins to bloom again.

The film doesn’t rely on loud scares or jump scares. Instead, it focuses on how a happy family breaks apart from the inside. Jin-sung’s disappearance becomes the center of their guilt, and strange events follow. Whispers, shadows, and the growing feeling that the house is hiding something. The horror comes from emotions, not monsters. The fear of rejection, the weight of secrets, and the pain of trying to replace what’s been lost.

At times, Acacia feels more like a sad family drama than a horror film. Some scenes blur the line between dream and reality, which might confuse some viewers. The pacing is slow, but if you stay patient, the emotional weight reveals itself. The acacia tree becomes a symbol of everything buried beneath the surface, its lifeless branches watching over the family like a silent ghost.

Visually, the movie is stunning. The cinematography gives even simple rooms a sense of mystery. The lighting shifts from warm tones to cold shadows as the family falls apart. Rain and silence make the atmosphere heavy and suffocating. The acting is strong throughout. Shim Hye-jin gives Mi-sook warmth and quiet fear, while young Moon Woo-bin captures both innocence and something unsettling as Jin-sung.

Acacia isn’t about an evil tree. It’s about the roots of family pain that grow and twist until they can’t be hidden anymore. It’s slow, sad, and beautifully made. Not the kind of horror that makes you jump, but the kind that quietly breaks your heart. It lingers in your mind long after it ends.