YAGA

YAGA arrives as a moody blend of drama and sci-fi & fantasy, set against the salt-stung edges of a community shaped by money, tradition, and what people are willing to hide to protect both. When a young heir connected to a powerful fishery vanishes, the case looks straightforward—until it starts rearranging itself into something stranger.

A private investigator takes the job and quickly discovers that the town doesn’t want to be understood. An uneasy local detective pushes back on outsider interference, while a magnetic university professor—equal parts mentor and provocateur—circles the investigation with unsettling confidence. As leads multiply, so do contradictions, and every conversation seems to suggest a second story running underneath the first.

The film’s tension comes from its human fractures as much as its supernatural hints: secret relationships, carefully curated reputations, and the quiet violence of influence. The missing person becomes a mirror, reflecting the town’s private bargains and the way power can make truth feel negotiable.

What begins as procedural curiosity shifts into a labyrinth of suspects and double lives, where folklore isn’t just local color—it’s a living framework that explains what logic can’t. YAGA toys with the boundary between coincidence and design, inviting viewers to question whether the town is cursed, complicit, or simply skilled at storytelling.

With a cast that includes Carrie-Anne Moss, Clark Backo, Noah Reid, Hudson Williams, Ezra Franky, and Patrick Gilmore, YAGA leans into atmosphere and moral ambiguity, building a slow-burn mystery that feels intimate even when it turns uncanny. For audiences who like their drama grounded but their answers slippery, this is a disappearance that refuses to stay ordinary.