Ole Bornedal’s The Possession (2012) distinguishes itself from the glut of post- The Exorcist possession narratives by grounding its supernatural horror in the specific Jewish folklore of the dybbuk . This paper argues that the film functions as a layered allegory for familial disintegration in contemporary America. While marketed as a mainstream horror film, The Possession uses its demonic entity—a malicious, disembodied spirit trapped in a antique box—as a literal manifestation of unresolved trauma, specifically the anger and grief stemming from divorce. By examining the film’s use of cultural authenticity (via consultant Rabbi Yitzchak Wyne), its suburban setting, and the gender dynamics of possession, this analysis will demonstrate that the film’s true horror lies not in the paranormal but in the failure of communication and the paternal anxieties of shared custody.
Cinematographically, Bornedal emphasizes closed spaces: the box’s interior, the glass case at the antique store, the pantry where Emily first convulses, and finally the sealed motel room where the exorcism occurs. This visual motif of containment mirrors the family’s refusal to openly discuss the divorce. The dybbuk is “trapped” until Emily opens it—just as the family’s anger is trapped until it erupts through her. The entity’s signature act (forcing Emily to eat raw meat, moths, and a glass shard) represents the internalization of poison; she literally consumes the family’s unresolved bitterness. The Possession -2012-2012
Upon release, The Possession received mixed to positive reviews (49% on Rotten Tomatoes, with a 57 Metacritic score). Critics praised Natascha Calis’s physical performance but faulted the film’s reliance on jump scares and a slow middle act. However, retrospective analyses (e.g., Bloody Disgusting’s 2022 re-evaluation) have noted the film’s prescient treatment of divorce-related childhood anxiety. In an era of elevated horror, The Possession is often dismissed as a minor work, yet its direct engagement with custody trauma—specifically the child as a “vessel” for parental anger—anticipates Ari Aster’s Hereditary (2018) by six years. By examining the film’s use of cultural authenticity