DIRECTORS STATEMENT

When I first envisioned ROOTED, I set out to craft a film that doesn’t just haunt but resonates—a story where fear emerges from the core of identity, and the supernatural becomes a lens through which we explore truths we rarely dare to confront. This film exists at the intersection of folklore and psychology, spirituality and history, inviting audiences into a space where the familiar and the unknown blur together in terrifying fashion.

​

At its heart, ROOTED is about Kay’s search for belonging—a journey to uncover his place in the world when all connections seem severed. Kay built his entire life around one identity, clinging to what he believed defined him, only to uncover a truth that shattered that foundation. This internal reckoning mirrors the unsettling experience of imposter syndrome—the disorientation of questioning not only who you are but whether you’ve ever truly known yourself.

​

For me, this story is personal. As a first-generation Ghanaian-American, I’ve wrestled with the complexity of identifying with a heritage that feels both intrinsic and, at times, distant. Kay’s experience mirrors my own in many ways—how music, history, and the experiences of our ancestors can become a guide toward clarity, healing, and purpose. His journey is about reconciling fractured pieces of identity—not to find a perfect whole, but to embrace the strength in those fractures, which empower us toward a fuller, more honest version of ourselves.

​

Visually and tonally, I want audiences to experience the visceral disorientation of Kay’s journey. Drawing inspiration from His House for its blend of African themes and psychological horror, and Black Swan for its raw portrayal of a character’s unraveling, I aim to set this against the gritty realism of New York, much like Darren Aronofsky captured so brilliantly. As the story transitions from mystery to intense supernatural horror, I look to films like The Descent, using confined spaces to build tension and primal fear. Long takes and POV shots will amplify the sense of dread as Kay’s journey spirals into chaos—psychologically, physically, and spiritually.

The mask at the center of the story acts as both a literal and symbolic gateway—a portal to an ancestral purgatory influenced by West African folklore. In these moments, Kay steps into a space where spirits, trapped by devastating cultural taboos, yearn for liberation. These scenes will be captured on film to evoke a haunting timelessness, disconnect, and desperation, contrasting sharply with the digital aesthetic of Kay’s modern urban environment.

Water flows as a recurring motif throughout the film, representing both separation and connection, life and renewal. Historically, the Atlantic Ocean was a site of profound tragedy, carrying enslaved Africans across its depths—including to Latin America, which played a significant role in the transatlantic slave trade. Yet in African spirituality, water is both feared and revered as a medium for transition, healing, and rebirth. Practical water effects will anchor these themes, imbuing them with a visceral, tactile quality that audiences can feel.

I wanted to visually represent Kay’s internal struggle within the spiritual realm, and tunnels felt like the perfect metaphor. The story begins in the surface-level hallways of his apartment, then descends into subway tunnels, where Kay feels almost hunted by Afro-punkers and African immigrants, blurring the line between his mind and reality. EVentually, he’s trapped in the cavernous spiritual prison, where his deepest fears materialize, forcing him to confront the ancestors he feels disconnected from. His rejection escalates from the superficial to deeply personal trauma, as his internal conflict and external chaos converge. Like many of us, Kay’s unraveling begins with a seemingly trivial moment, yet it claws at him until he’s forced to confront the trauma rooted at its source.

​

Kay’s journey isn’t solely about unearthing his heritage but about learning to accept himself through it—to see his identity as both a source of struggle and strength. It’s a deeply human tale wrapped in supernatural horror, where the fears Kay confronts—of disconnection, rejection, and the unknown—are as universal as they are personal.

Tonally, ROOTED is relentless yet redemptive. It challenges us to sit with discomfort, to face the unresolved echoes of our past, and to wrestle with the power of identity—only to emerge, like Kay, with a renewed understanding of who we are and a deeper connection to our origins.

The hope is that audiences leave this film not just haunted but moved, understanding that identity is an arduous yet necessary journey that connects us all. The film poses questions about belonging, the ties that link us across time, and how much of who we are is shaped by what came before us. What happens when we peer into the mirror of history and see pieces of ourselves staring back? And how do we move forward, rooted in the strength of where we come from?