The Dollmaker
José María Cicala‘s The Dollmaker has a lot going on: missing women, a disturbed protagonist, a woman who sees dead people, and that’s only the beginning.
Tomás is a video store clerk and amateur dollmaker who becomes the main suspect in a string of female kidnappings. But not before he tries his hand at the dating scene, all while keeping his doting mother apprised of his every move.
Haunted by severe unresolved trauma and heinous visions surrounding his mother, the audience understands that Tomás is not right in the head. When he meets Tina, a waitress whose past trauma and fragile daughter have triggered visions of the dead, a romantic spark takes a sinister turn as Tomás exists in a demented reality.
The film’s opening credits immediately draw you in. The characters are flamboyant and unforgettable, almost as if a graphic novel sprang to life. The colors are vivid through a crime noir lens. Cinematographer Martín Nico utilizes soft focus as a keen device, while Cecilia Calarota‘s chaotic editing keeps us off balance. Rodrigo Noya swings between sweet and sociopathic in the same beat. It’s a chilling turn.
The homages to classics like Texas Chainsaw, May, The Shining, and Psycho are clear. Practical FX are gruesome. The script spirals into total madness. The Dollmaker is one of the year’s most chaotic and unhinged films. It will make your nightmares seem tame.
THE DOLLMAKER from director José María Cicala arriving on VOD, digital on August 25?
Dripping with Lynchian style, The Dollmaker (Encantador; Argentina, 2025) is part charming, funny, decidedly weird and enjoyably bloody. Things are not all they seem to be in a cheerfully idyllic town that soon becomes a hotbed of female kidnappings. No one seems to care much about the missing women including nerdy video store clerk and amateur dollmaker Tomás (Rodrigo Noya.) But when a new inspector comes to town determined to find the solve the disappearance, Tomás soon becomes the unlikely prime suspect. A horror film which becomes increasingly dark, and gruesome, and unpredictable.
Dana Berger plays Jenn with an exasperated aura. She is a woman who has decided that this relationship is over. Berger’s emotional journey is vastly different from her co-star Max Woertendyke, playing Dan. He has some fight left in him as to their marriage. That comes with a caveat of information as the film rolls on. Woertendyke nails the comedy and the horror. Their remarkable chemistry and Elcar’s writing earn a second viewing. The editing is impressive. I wish I could have been in the room while Elcar was storyboarding. The coordinated chaos is delicious. The dialogue is honest and biting, even set against the mysterious goings-on. It’s undeniably ballsy. 
A therapy session from hell, BRIGHTWOOD taunts our protagonists and the audience with macabre twists and turns, dizzying us with theories. Its shocking final reveal (which is a double doozy) seemingly suggests that, in this environment, compromise and teamwork are the only way forward, for better or for worse. No spoilers from me. It’s dark as hell.
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