Trauma Bond: The Woman in the Yard

“The Woman in the Yard” offers more than messages about grief and depression; it has much to say about marriage and mother-daughter wounds.

The Woman in the Yard wasn’t one I planned to see in the theater. However, as reviews and personal reflections started peppering my social media feeds, I started tuning in and reading with interest. Polarizing films are not uncommon in horror. However, that reason rarely draws me in enough to prioritize seeing it in the theatre. There was something about this discourse, though.

As individuals debated the symbolism, most expressed distaste for the ending (and the idea of Doritos and eggs – salt-lovers, rejoice!), and weighed in on the overall merit of the piece, with most leaning toward disappointment, I raised an eyebrow. Then, I heard BOBBEE’s (follow over here and here) and Myriam Akbar’s (follow over here and here) perspectives.

They both gave it praise, and I really connected with their rationale. So, I booked my ticket immediately. I needed to form my own perspective.

Where did I land? I loved it. In fact, I will not be surprised if this ultimately stays in my Top 10 for the year.

Why? This is why you clicked in and get ready for an earful (or is it eyeful?). Well, it’s voluminous and effusive, whatever it is.

There are so many interpretations and theories about this film, which I adore.

I am going to offer mine right off the hop and walk you through how I landed on them.

My assertions:

• The Woman represents Ramona’s mother.
• Ramona chose to live, and the ending is as hopeful as it appears at face value, even with our tragically unreliable narrator.

And the fun part? Everyone is right. Well, everyone except for those saying it’s reprising The Babadook. Very basic plot points do not make solid similarities (Myriam hits on this in detail, by the way). A whisper in that direction, maybe?

If that qualifies, let’s also throw a nod in Hereditary’s direction then, because of the dollhouse miniature of the farmhouse and some upsetting parent-child relations. Or Evil Dead Rise, where the scariest figure is the mother.

These films aren’t the ones I see as notably influential here, though – more on this to come as I unpack my take.

There were three very specific points in the film that caused my antennae to perk up.

You know, the Transformers “more than meets the eye” moments. These were:

• Seeing The Mirror Has Two Faces on the marquis of the movie theatre through the car window, just as Ramona and David get into the car after that dinner.
• The entire date night dinner conversation between Ramona and her husband, David, on the evening of the accident.
• The backwards R scene between Ramona and her daughter, Annie.

I never decline a hidden mission issued within a movie, so I promptly rewatched The Mirror Has Two Faces the next day, to see what connections may have been intended with that Easter egg.

Goodness, what an embarrassment of riches. There weren’t just a few seeds; a crop was sewn with that choice beyond the few links I made in the theatre from a fuzzy recollection of the plot.

Brief but necessary diversion: The themes of The Mirror Has Two Faces

Spoilers Ahead

Let me try to offer a rapid summary of what set my brain on fire with my rewatch of The Mirror Has Two Faces (1996), so we can keep this centred appropriately on The Woman in the Yard. (I cannot in good conscience recommend The Mirror Has Two Faces outside of the strong tether to the underlying messages within this piece.)

Rose Morgan (Barbra Streisand) and Gregory Larkin (Jeff Bridges) develop a When Harry Met Sally-like friendship after Gregory places an ad in the paper looking for a partner he can establish a deep, meaningful connection with. One catch: No sex—even after marriage, which they do enter into. His past relationships failed because they were grounded in physical (not mental) connection, and he is sure that removing this complicating factor will be the key to lifelong happiness.

Spoiler: It only made him develop a secure attachment (or co-dependency? I’m still not sure) with Rose, which unlocked entirely new fears.

An added wrinkle, critical to this piece, is that Rose’s mom, Hannah (played with expert bite by Lauren Bacall), is a narcissist who takes every opportunity to make herself the centre of attention and makes Rose feel microscopic and unworthy. Oh, and Rose and Hannah live together—holy pressure cooker, Batman.

Claire, Rose’s sister, also receives their mom’s barbs. Rose manages her “injuries” through sarcasm, people-pleasing, and avoidance.

Claire’s coping mechanisms look more like a burn-it-down-black-cat attitude toward everyone and everything, but especially romantic relationships.

While the movie overall is super cringy through a 2025 lens, there is some exceptional dialogue – and one legendary monologue – about how the “myths and archetypes are alive and well” with respect to expectations of romantic love (insert a lot of jokes about hearing Puccini when falling in love) and that the “end-all be-all is,” you guessed it: Marriage.

The question is posed: So why do we buy it?

Answer: Because that experience makes us feel alive.

However, what happens when your partner dies? Tragically. The night you tell him over dinner that you are profoundly unhappy in your marriage and with the life you built together. He acknowledges your chronic unhappiness – it’s why he facilitated the move to the country. Crickets. Check please. And now this is the last conversation you have.

Now, like the ending, I appreciate that the nuances of their relationship are also up for interpretation.

Is this a golden retriever-black cat pairing? Does David truly appreciate Ramona’s ups and downs and know how to navigate through this cycle?

Or has he been trying to “fix” something that just wasn’t meant to be? For example, Ramona bought into the house-two-kids-and-a-dog mythology and realized the promise was not as fulfilling as the idea she had been sold.

This is where David’s death is truly tragic. Ramona is left to wonder: Was this a cycle of my depression? Or was I truly ready to implode my life and embark on a more authentic one?

I like to think that this is where a lot of her grief is pooled – in the reality that she will never get to work through that crossroads.

The accident interrupted her self-exploration and discovery, which would have served her well either way, within or beyond her marriage. Buds of strength and agency vanished, with guilt and grief planted firmly in their place. Dressed in black. In the front yard. Or maybe an agent of guilt and grief….

Which is a natural segue to the mother-daughter wounds.

In The Mirror Has Two Faces, the relationship between Rose and Hannah is as fully developed as the relationship between Rose and Gregory. This is purposeful and demonstrates how deep parental wounds can cut – “Parents don’t ever plan to hurt their children.”

However, they often do, and when those wounds go unacknowledged and unhealed, they can negatively impact other intimate relationships.

Rose confronts her mother, receives some information and insights that help her reconcile some of her experiences and perceptions, and starts to heal from the trauma caused by their relationship. Only then is Rose able to understand her needs and desires and then – often the hardest part – articulate those needs and desires clearly to those in her circle, especially Gregory.

Connecting the dots and dissecting the themes in The Woman in the Yard

Back to the subject at hand.

My rewatch of The Mirror Has Two Faces convinced me that the titular Woman in the Yard is Ramona’s mother. The ending is Ramona confronting her mother. She literally wrestles with her. Her mother, a representation of that wound, is the one guiding the barrel to her chin. Her mother is the root of so much of her self-doubt, even self-hatred.

This is echoed so painfully in the scene where Ramona berates Annie while she is practicing her spelling and consistently writing the ‘R’ backwards.

This is landed for me in the closing note of the film, when we see that Ramona signs her artwork with a backwards ‘R’. My brain went “up a ladder” wondering if Ramona heard those same criticisms growing up.

There’s a reason for the common saying, “I’m starting to sound like my mother,” and it’s rarely offered for a positive, supportive phrase. That backwards ‘R’ feels like a manifestation of memories seared into the fabric of Ramona’s psyche.

At the end of that difficult scene between Ramona and Annie, Ramona realizes what she has done and tries to bookend the episode with love.

However, the damage is done. And she knows it. I assert this isn’t the first time.

When we meet Annie in her blanket fort, she greets Ramona with a broad smile. However, as soon as Ramona turns around, Annie’s smile drops abruptly. Remember, one of the stress responses is fawn. People-pleasing can be a sign of a trauma response and helps to manage unpredictable people and emotions we want to avoid.

(Making all the connection points to The Mirror Has Two Faces, Annie could be viewed as our Rose-to-be, and her brother, Taylor, is our Claire-to-be.)

All of this leads me to the interpretation that Ramona chooses life and healing.

She hit rock bottom, faced her trauma/mother, and decided to break the cycle.

I also want to be clear that I have immense empathy for Ramona. We have navigated similar intergenerational realities in my family on my mom’s side. Ours stems from my Nana’s trauma, which she disclosed to me, and it offered tremendous clarity to many of my life experiences and supported my own healing. My dad has even said, “In each generation, it gets a little bit better.”

He sees how my mom tries. He sees how my sister and I try. But it’s work. Hard work. I like to think that Ramona found the strength and courage to do the work, instead of letting very real, valid pain consume her and her children.

There is one last comment I’d like to make before closing, related to the ending, where I am in alignment with my Morbidly Beautiful peer, Rowyn Richards’, take.

I also don’t like “Diet horror” as she called it. I feel the ending was handled with compassion and honesty, which warrants huge credits to both Danielle Deadwyler (Ramona) and Okwui Okpokwasili (The Woman).

I felt the pain and struggle of that scene. This is probably why so many people reacted so viscerally to it.

Trigger warning helpful and ideally required? Yes, most definitely.

Viewers, especially those who may make deeply personal connections with the content or potentially be triggered, need to confirm what day they have the spoons to digest that topic, no matter how delicately it is handled. In no way did I find it tasteless, though – and I tend to be very sensitive to “trauma porn.” In fact, I found the choices by the actors, Jaume Collet-Serra (director), and Pawel Pogorzelski (cinematographer), to be respectful and brutally beautiful.

I would like to see us expand our viewpoint of what acceptable explorations of suicidal ideations and suicide look like, beyond softer, quieter examples like Aftersun.

We all have our own distinct relationships and levels of comfort with death and dying. These struggles can be messy. And that needs to be ok, too. Messy and tasteless are two very different things.

Sometimes, you have to go somewhere completely dark in order to find the light. Healing is possible, but it is not easy or guaranteed.

I appreciate that The Woman in the Yard acknowledged how terrifying and intense the healing process and reality can be for everyone involved.