As a horror consumer—and someone who spends most of his time watching genre films—I’m very aware of horror’s complicated relationship with the representation of women. The genre has evolved considerably, but there are still films that objectify, victimize, and sexualize women simply for existing. That impulse is, unfortunately, embedded in the DNA of horror. But alongside it, we’ve also seen filmmakers reclaim those tropes, flip them on their heads, and give women agency in ways that feel genuinely exciting.
That’s why, when I first encountered Namaslay, my mind immediately went somewhere very specific: Oh great, another exploitation movie set in the yoga world, using the setting as an excuse to put attractive young actresses in yoga pants.
Five minutes in, filmmakers and brothers Rish and Kanish prove me completely wrong.
Maybe it helped that I deliberately avoided the trailer—something I try to do whenever possible. I entered the Namaslay universe completely blind, and what I found was not only a vibrant introduction to masala cinema, but also a showcase for two young independent filmmakers who feel destined to make a serious impact on genre cinema.
The film is bursting with energy. It’s colorful, inventive, sonically rich, and packed with striking imagery. In fact, some of the most memorable visuals I’ve seen in a genre film this year come from Namaslay.
At the center of the story is Gayatri, played by Kiru Srikanth, a young Tamil American woman who has recently moved to Los Angeles to begin a new chapter in her life following the death of her mentor and grandmother, Paati, played by Usha Krishnan.
An earlier prologue reveals that Gayatri has a speech impediment, while the film opens with a devastating depiction of hate crimes against South Asian communities in New Jersey during the late 1980s. It’s a cold opening rooted in social injustice, racism, and generational trauma—issues that may have evolved alongside technology, but unfortunately remain painfully relevant today.
Like many immigrants trying to reconcile their heritage with their new surroundings, Gayatri is constantly negotiating her identity and beliefs. Fortunately, Paati gave her something to hold onto. Through her teachings, Gayatri learns about purpose, spirituality, and meditation, while yoga becomes the foundation of their relationship.
For Gayatri, yoga is far more than exercise. It is a spiritual practice, a connection to her culture, and a way of understanding herself.
But that isn’t the version of yoga Los Angeles is selling.
Gayatri is convinced by her best friend Judy, played by Angela Sant’Albano, to join Vital Soul, a trendy yoga studio in the heart of the city. The studio is owned by Reyna, played by Christina Moore, a charming but eccentric woman who immediately asks Gayatri to become a teacher as part of the studio’s sudden push toward “diversity.”
And this is where Namaslay really starts having fun.
The film isn’t afraid to embrace satire, and its treatment of Vital Soul is both hilarious and deeply uncomfortable. It’s a grotesque cash grab built around the appropriation of an entire culture and repackaged for wealthy, privileged consumers. Everything about the place screams performative spirituality: expensive yoga clothes, superficial wellness philosophies, and just enough cultural appropriation to make you wonder how nobody is calling it out.
Gayatri notices the red flags almost immediately. Yet, in an attempt to support her friend, she stays.
The studio becomes one of the film’s most fascinating elements. Every member seems to have their own relationship with Vital Soul. Some genuinely believe in the community. Others are attracted to the aesthetic, the lifestyle, or simply the feeling of belonging to something they believe they deserve.
Then there’s Reyna.
Her bizarre philosophy, unpredictable behavior, and almost hypnotic presence keep the audience guessing. Namaslay constantly walks the line between mystery and comedy, raising one question after another: Is Vital Soul a cult? Why is Reyna so interested in Gayatri? Can she be trusted? Is she actually evil, or is something much stranger happening beneath the surface?
Then, halfway through the film, the rules change.
Gayatri, Judy, and the other members arrive at a special weekend retreat, where they are expected to complete their lessons and ascend to the next level. And this is where Namaslay completely pulls the rug out from under you.
What begins as a satirical exploration of wellness culture transforms into something surreal, magical, grotesque, and genuinely unexpected. The retreat becomes a gateway into the real face of Vital Soul, taking us on a psychedelic descent filled with music, terror, dancing, humor, and women fighting for their survival.
Rish and Kanish ’s take on masala cinema is outstanding. The film moves with an infectious rhythm and a confident sense of pace, knowing exactly when to slow down and when to unleash its more outrageous instincts. It can be completely histrionic one moment and surprisingly intimate the next, and somehow those two extremes coexist without feeling contradictory.
Some of the film’s most compelling moments come from the conversations between these women. Beneath the satire and escalating madness, there is a genuine emotional core running through the group. One of my favorite details is the way Gayatri’s speech impediment becomes more pronounced whenever she feels stressed or anxious. It’s a small but incredibly effective character choice that makes her emotional state tangible without having to spell it out.
Judy’s desperate need to belong is equally fascinating, especially as her desire for acceptance begins to collide with the reality of Vital Soul. And then there’s Reyna, whose control over the group becomes increasingly unsettling. Her influence over these women is one of the film’s most intriguing dynamics, blurring the line between community, manipulation, and devotion.
The weekend retreat also gives us the opportunity to spend more time with the supporting characters, each bringing a different perspective into Vital Soul’s increasingly bizarre ecosystem.
There’s Esperanza, played by Adriana Sevan, an older Mexican woman who genuinely embraces the philosophy and spirituality of yoga. Then we have Tasha, played by Erica Dasher, an obnoxious former classmate of Judy whose presence immediately adds another layer of tension to the group. Malika, played by Alicia Mitchell-Mangual, is one of the studio’s newest members and another example of Vital Soul’s carefully curated approach to “diversity.” And finally, there’s Lena, played by Lauren Blumenfeld, Reyna’s devoted disciple and seemingly unquestioning minion.
Together, these women give Namaslay a surprisingly rich ensemble. They aren’t simply there to fill out the body count or serve as extensions of the plot. Each represents a different relationship to belonging, identity, spirituality, and power—and watching those relationships unravel is one of the film’s greatest strengths.
Kiru Srikanth leads the film with a natural charm, perfectly balancing the doubt and uncertainty of her position within the group with the determination to fight back when the time comes. Christina Moore may be best known for sitcoms and romantic comedies, but she excels in the villain role. Her piercing gaze and subtle facial expressions turn her character into a presence to be feared, while somehow still making you want to earn her approval.
Angela Sant’Albano seamlessly shifts from the classic “LA girl” archetype into a young woman struggling with acceptance before ultimately becoming a relentless villain. Alicia Mitchell-Mangual, meanwhile, practically begs for more screen time. Her natural charm and presence make her one of the most relatable members of the core cast, and she also has some of the film’s best comedic timing. That’s matched by Lauren Blumenfeld, whose line delivery is pure comedy gold.
Visually, Namaslay never shies away from being bold. As a contemporary take on masala cinema, the film embraces excess in all the right ways. Hallucinatory sequences, elaborate dance numbers, monsters, fire, fight choreography, and surreal imagery constantly push the film into increasingly unexpected territory.
There’s a sense that Rish and Kanish aren’t afraid to put everything on the screen—and that confidence pays off. The film understands that masala cinema thrives on spectacle, and Namaslay translates that spirit into a modern horror language without losing its own identity.
The sound design and mixing are equally important to the experience. The film moves effortlessly between emotional passages and high-energy sequences, incorporating traditional music alongside an upbeat, often exhilarating score. The shifts in rhythm help dictate the film’s constantly changing mood, allowing it to move from intimate and emotional to chaotic and explosive without losing momentum.
It’s this combination of visual ambition, musicality, and sheer energy that makes Namaslay feel so alive. The film doesn’t simply want to tell you a story—it wants to simultaneously activate your senses while doing it.
NAMASLAY is currently playing in select theaters across Canada.
Leave a Reply