In her directorial debut, WOACA, Mackenzie Davis turns a simple skincare routine into something viscerally unforgettable. It begins with soothing symmetry: Sidse Babett Knudsen calmly applying creams in front of a mirror, the choreography of self-care captured with quiet precision. That tranquility shatters, though, the moment a lone zit appears—what should be a minor intruder quickly becomes a monstrous antagonist.

In a wonderfully twisted and body-horror-tinged narrative, the battle between woman and blemish escalates from ritual to full-blown chaos. The lighting and framing—once crisp and soothing—grow jagged and intense, mirroring the protagonist’s spiraling emotions. The zit, grotesquely real in texture and presence, becomes both the joke and the threat, turning a routine moment into a dramatic stand-off.

There’s no dialogue, and yet the film communicates volumes through Knudsen’s expressive physicality. Every shift from controlled poise to outright desperation is captured in visceral detail. In just fourteen minutes, WOACA skewers societal beauty standards and the burden of aging with both humor and a touch of horror, making the audience squirm—and maybe laugh while doing it.

Studio Frith’s art direction enhances the absurdity and intimacy, dressing every frame in tactile imperfections that match the film’s emotional tone. The camera revels in the unsettling intimacy of pores, lotion, and sweat, reminding us just how close—and personal—our relationships with our own bodies can be.

At its core, WOACA is a dark satire about aging and self-image, but it’s grounded in empathy. Beneath the humor lies a familiar truth: the wish to stay defiant in the face of change. It captures our fear, fascination, and sometimes pure horror with aging, all through the lens of a bathroom mirror.