What We Hide – Film Review

Dan Kay’s What We Hide is one of those rare dramas that doesn’t just ask the audience to sympathize with its characters—it demands that you feel the weight of their every choice, every secret, every desperate attempt at survival. Written and directed by Kay, the film finds power not in sensationalism but in its quiet, intimate exploration of grief, trauma, and the resilience of two young sisters forced into a situation no child should ever face.

At its core, the story is deceptively simple: Spider (Mckenna Grace) and Jessie (Jojo Regina) discover their mother dead from an overdose. Terrified of being split up by the foster care system, the sisters make an unthinkable choice—they hide their mother’s body and attempt to go on with life as if nothing has changed. But the façade is fragile, and as suspicion grows from outsiders in their small town, the tension escalates into a suffocating portrait of secrets too heavy for children to bear.

The strength of What We Hide lies in how authentically it captures the psychology of children who live in unstable environments. The fear of being separated from one another is palpable from the opening scenes. For Spider and Jessie, the foster system isn’t a solution—it’s the ultimate nightmare, a force that could tear apart the only sense of stability they’ve ever known.

Kay’s screenplay doesn’t waste time on melodrama. Instead, it allows the sisters’ decision to unfold naturally, as though hiding their mother’s body isn’t a shocking plot twist, but rather the only option they can conceive in their desperate state. This grounded approach makes the tension even more excruciating. Every interaction with neighbors, authority figures, or peers becomes a minefield of potential discovery.

At times, the film recalls the quiet dread of Winter’s Bone or the claustrophobic intimacy of Room, but it is very much its own creation—focused more on the internal unraveling of its characters than on external thriller elements.

Grace, who has already built a reputation as one of Hollywood’s most talented young actors, delivers what may very well be her most haunting and mature performance to date. As Spider, she embodies a child forced into premature adulthood, someone who has had to play caretaker far too early in life. Her eyes carry both exhaustion and steely determination, a duality that makes her riveting to watch in every frame.

What makes Grace’s performance Oscar-worthy isn’t simply her ability to cry on cue or convey anguish—though she does both brilliantly—it’s the quiet strength she exudes in moments of silence. When she tucks Jessie into bed while their mother’s body lies hidden nearby, the scene brims with heartbreak and terror, yet she communicates all of it without a word.

There’s also an understated physicality to her performance; the way Spider slouches under invisible burdens, or clenches her jaw to stop herself from crying, adds layers of realism that many adult performers struggle to achieve. Grace transforms Spider into not just a character, but a fully realized person who lingers in the mind long after the credits roll.

While Grace anchors the film, Jojo Regina as Jessie provides its heart. Jessie is younger, more vulnerable, and less capable of comprehending the full gravity of their mother’s death. Regina perfectly captures the innocence of a child trying to process trauma in real time, oscillating between denial, anger, and heartbreaking moments of confusion.

Her chemistry with Grace is electric—believable in every sibling squabble, every whispered secret, and every tearful hug. If Grace provides the film with its emotional gravity, Regina supplies the raw fragility that keeps it from becoming unbearably bleak. Together, they create one of the most compelling sibling dynamics seen in recent cinema.

The film’s supporting cast is equally well-utilized, each character adding weight to the story’s escalating tension. Jesse Williams as Sheriff Ben Jeffries brings warmth and quiet suspicion to the narrative. His interactions with Spider feel like a constant test—he’s sympathetic to the girls but intuitively knows something is wrong. Williams gives him a moral complexity that makes his presence both comforting and terrifying.

Dacre Montgomery as Reece, the abusive ex-boyfriend of the girls’ mother, is a chilling reminder of the toxic environment Spider and Jessie grew up in. Montgomery avoids cartoonish villainy; instead, he radiates an unsettling unpredictability that keeps the audience on edge.

Forrest Goodluck as Cody provides a rare reprieve from the film’s suffocating tension. As a boy who befriends Spider, he offers her glimpses of normalcy, yet even his kindness is tinged with danger—his curiosity threatens to expose her secret. Each performance, no matter how brief, adds to the film’s layered tapestry of suspicion, fear, and fleeting hope.

As both writer and director, Dan Kay demonstrates remarkable restraint. Rather than sensationalizing the girls’ decision, he treats it with quiet inevitability, focusing on how the weight of their choice seeps into every corner of their lives. His camera often lingers on small details—the girls’ hands trembling as they wash dishes, a sheriff’s lingering glance at their cluttered home, the silence in a room that feels too still.

Kay’s direction keeps the tension taut throughout, never allowing the audience to feel fully comfortable. He builds suspense not through jump scares or melodramatic reveals, but through the suffocating knowledge that the truth is always one mistake away from being uncovered.

The muted cinematography mirrors the sisters’ emotional state—washed-out grays and muted blues dominate the palette, reflecting both the bleakness of their situation and the fragile bond that keeps them going.

What We Hide isn’t just about death—it’s about the lengths people will go to protect the ones they love. Spider and Jessie’s actions are morally fraught, but Kay presents them without judgment. The sisters’ desperate attempt to stay together forces viewers to confront the uncomfortable truth: sometimes survival requires choices that defy societal norms.

The film also examines cycles of trauma, exploring how addiction, abuse, and neglect leave scars that children are forced to carry. Yet amidst the darkness, the sibling bond between Spider and Jessie provides a fragile glimmer of hope. Their love for each other is what makes the film bearable, even as it spirals deeper into despair.

What We Hide is a searing, unforgettable drama that balances tension, heartbreak, and humanity with precision. Mckenna Grace delivers the kind of performance that awards campaigns are built around, while Jojo Regina cements herself as a talent to watch. With strong supporting turns and Dan Kay’s restrained yet powerful direction, the film rises above its bleak premise to deliver something profoundly moving.

This is not an easy watch, nor is it meant to be. But it is essential viewing—a haunting exploration of survival and sisterhood that lingers long after the credits fade.