Performative allyship and exploitation of Indigenous talent are scathingly critiqued in this supernatural-leaning, psychological thriller boasting electric performances and a myriad of interesting ideas that, unfortunately, fail to coalesce into a satisfying whole.

Making its world premiere at this year’s Toronto International Film Festival, In the Heart of the South follows Yura Ivalu (Anna Lambe), an Indigenous artist quickly rising in the Toronto art scene with the release of an acclaimed virtual reality piece. As Yura is offered the opportunity to make a movie, Sesi (Zorga Qaunaq), an old friend from her past, unexpectedly re-emerges and begins to push boundaries, encroach on her social circle, and passively aggressively threaten to undermine the chance of a lifetime.

In The Heart Of The South Doesn’t Work As A Psychological Thriller

The second feature from director Nyla Innuksuk, In the Heart of the South attempts to blend biting social commentary with psychological thrills, although efforts to nail the latter aren’t particularly successful. Yura Ivalu awkwardly navigates the Toronto art world, which masks its willingness to use her trauma and Inuk background for acclaim and profit with niceties and ostentatious activism. She recognizes the attempts at exploitation rampant all around her, yet is determined to make the most of the opportunity she is afforded and mastermind a movie that will elevate her to newfound heights of stardom.

To do so, Yura draws on a traumatic event of her youth, in which she and her friend Sesi went missing. But just as Yuri begins to dramatize this story, Seri enters the scene and quickly disrupts everything. Rather than slowly escalate the tension between the two women, Innuksuk immediately presents Sesi as a hostile, antagonistic character, who, if assessed with even a semblance of logic, would not be kept around by Yuri for long.

The core narrative, which borrows quite a bit from Barbet Schroeder’s Single White Female, lays the foundation for ample interpersonal suspense as Sesi infiltrates Yura’s art shows, friend group, living space, and more. Instead of capitalizing on this foundation, however, Innuksuk is overeager to showcase Sesi’s hostility from the get-go. In doing so, she creates distance between its audience and its lead character, Yura; it is difficult to fully get behind a character who so stunningly avoids all the warning signs that the old friend she has let into her home has ill intentions.

Among Sesi’s range of boundary violations are not-so-subtle digs about Yura’s artistic exploitation of her own trauma and Indigenous background. While Yura wrestles with her mental health and attempts to make a movie about the most traumatic event in her life, Sesi sees through her old friend’s inauthenticity. Here, Innuksuk has something quite interesting to say about the willingness artists have to use their trauma as a way to create art that will, in turn, further their careers. Yura wants to believe that her intentions are pure, but is troubled by how Sesi seems to be the only person to see through her facade.

To make matters worse, Yuri becomes riddled with anxiety that Sesi will replace her. Previously, Yura was often the only Indigenous person in her social and occupational circles. Now there is another – one decidedly edgier and more subversive. Immediately, Yura’s friends and associates gravitate to Sesi, in turn exposing Yura’s insecurity about belonging.

In the scenes in which Sesi begins to make a more memorable presence than Yura, Innuksuk appears to tap into Claire Jean Kim’s Theory of Racial Triangulation, which posits that members of minority groups often compete to win the favor of the dominant white majority. While Sesi is eating up all the attention she is receiving, Yura embodies Kim’s theory in being irked that her old friend is upstaging her when her career is meant to be taking off.

A Breakout Performance Is Let Down By Poor Pacing And Underdeveloped Ideas

Anna Mabe and Zorga Qaunaq as Yura and Sesi, respectively, deliver compelling turns as two women with a rich shared history now at odds with one another. Mabe quietly conveys the vulnerabilities of Yura with subtle facial expressions and body language alone, while Qaunaq makes a Joker-esque disruptive force out of Sesi.

Unfortunately, the actresses are let down by disjointed pacing and poor cultivation of tension. Although the commentary surrounding Indigenous voices in largely white artistic spaces provides something different and thoughtful to ponder over, the relationship at the heart of the story never feels authentic. Scenes that are meant to be suspenseful are awkward or undercooked.

Similarly underdeveloped is the film’s sprinkling of supernatural elements. In her youth, Sesi claimed to be a shaman, and, in adulthood, she exhibits unusual, ominous behaviors that suggest there are supernatural forces at play in Yura’s descent from greatness. Yura brandishes bizarre, unexplained markings throughout the film that further indicate the story is heading in a direction more consistent with horror, but Innuksuk remains disappointingly restrained in her willingness to lean into genre. Her movie merely introduces potentially supernatural concepts without ever giving them the attention they deserve.

In the Heart of the South is a sterling showcase for the talent of its leading actress, but though it offers up some interesting ideas, a weak grasp on the psychological thriller genre and shortcomings with the key interpersonal relationship at the film’s core prevent it from achieving greatness.

In the Heart of the South premiered at the 2026 Toronto International Film Festival.