Directed by Daniel Alexander and co-written by Alexander alongside Matthew R. Ford, Gale: Yellow Brick Road (2026) attempts to strip away the Technicolor whimsy of Oz in favor of a grim, psychological horror lens. Produced by Chilling, Daniel Alexander Films, and Maggy Road Pictures, the film serves as a legacy sequel of sorts. It posits that Dorothy’s adventures were not a dream but a traumatic reality that left her broken and institutionalized. Decades after her return, an elderly Dorothy is still haunted by the shadows of a world that has decayed into madness, a burden that is eventually passed down to her granddaughter, Emily.
The film stars Chloë Crump as Emily Gale, the young woman tasked with uncovering the dark truth behind her grandmother’s "delusions." Joining her are Karen Swan as the aged Dorothy Gale and Sarah Feltham as "Patches," a distorted amalgamation of the companions we once knew. Released on a limited basis through Fathom Entertainment, the movie positions itself as a gritty reimagining for those who always suspected there was something sinister lurking behind the curtain. It matters primarily as an independent attempt to reclaim iconic IP through a specific aesthetic vision, though the final product suggests that a strong visual eye cannot always compensate for a lack of narrative momentum.
Story and Screenplay: A Decayed Narrative That Struggles To Move Beyond Its Concept
The central conceit of the screenplay is undeniably intriguing: it treats the "Wonderful World of Oz" as a source of generational trauma. The story follows Emily Gale as she attempts to care for her grandmother, only to find herself pulled into the same nightmare that consumed Dorothy’s life. This framework allows the writers to explore themes of inherited madness and the weight of a family name. However, once the initial premise is established, the script begins to wander aimlessly. The structure feels repetitive, often circling back to the same psychological beats without providing new information or escalating the stakes in a meaningful way.
One of the primary issues lies in the pacing and rhythm of the storytelling. The narrative tempo is so agonizingly deliberate that it risks losing the audience before the first act even draws to a close. There is a fine line between a "slow burn" and a story that simply refuses to move, and Gale: Yellow Brick Road frequently crosses into the latter. The screenplay seems to be operating several steps behind the audience: viewers will likely anticipate the "twists" and revelations long before the characters do. This creates a sense of frustration as we wait for Emily to catch up to the reality that has been obvious to us for forty minutes.
Furthermore, the script lacks the sharp dialogue or character depth needed to sustain such a long, quiet runtime. While the themes of trauma and decay are present on the surface, they are never explored with the "dramatic rigor" required to make them land with emotional weight. The transition from the real world to the ruins of Oz should feel like a monumental shift in reality, but because the writing is so sparse and the pacing so stagnant, the journey feels more like a slog than an odyssey. The ending, in particular, arrives with a mute thud rather than the resonant psychological payoff the film clearly aspires to achieve.
Acting and Characters: Lackluster Performances In A World Of Icons
Chloë Crump carries the bulk of the film as Emily Gale, but her performance struggles to anchor the emotional core of the story. While she effectively conveys a sense of confusion and burgeoning dread, she rarely finds the gear needed to make the audience truly invest in her survival. Part of this may be due to the writing, which gives her very little to do other than react to the horrors around her, but the performance often feels flat. In a film that relies so heavily on the protagonist’s internal state to build tension, the lack of an engaging lead makes the long stretches of silence feel even more empty.
Karen Swan, playing the elderly Dorothy, is given the unenviable task of portraying a character defined by her brokenness. She manages to evoke some sympathy, particularly in the scenes where she is tormented by the "nightmares" of her past, but her character is mostly used as a plot device to propel Emily toward the ruins of Oz. There is a missed opportunity here to deeply explore the tragedy of a girl who came home from a magical land only to be told she was insane, but the film keeps her at a distance. The chemistry between the grandmother and granddaughter is functional but lacks the warmth or complexity that would have made Emily’s eventual quest feel like a necessary act of love.
The supporting cast, including various remnants of the Oz landscape, are more notable for their physical presence than their performances. Hassan Taj and Sarah Feltham do what they can with their roles, but they are essentially playing archetypes in a world that has been stripped of its humanity. Sarah Feltham’s "Patches" is perhaps the most interesting character from a conceptual standpoint, representing the decay of the Scarecrow and Tin Man into a singular, horrific entity. However, as an acting performance, it is mostly restricted by the needs of the production design and the suit. Overall, the ensemble feels less like a group of characters and more like figures in a dark, atmospheric wax museum.
Direction and Technical Aspects: A Sumptuous Feast For The Eyes
If there is a reason to seek out Gale: Yellow Brick Road, it is the visual vision of director Daniel Alexander. For an independent title, the film looks remarkably expensive. Alexander, who also served as the cinematographer, has a keen eye for composition and color. He leans into a "sumptuous" visual style that prioritizes texture and atmosphere above all else. The way he frames the decaying ruins of Oz: with muted tones and stark, high-contrast lighting: is genuinely impressive. He manages to squeeze every ounce of glamour and grit out of his locations, creating a world that feels both ancient and dangerously tangible.
The production design and practical effects are the true stars of the show. Rather than relying on cheap digital effects, Alexander employs a primarily practical approach that gives the film a grounded, visceral quality. The character of Patches is an intricately designed suit that looks like it was stitched together from the nightmares of a forgotten childhood. Even more impressive are the flying monkeys, which are reimagined as chilling, skeletal creatures that are easily the most frightening representation of the Witch’s army ever put to film. These elements suggest a filmmaker who knows how to build a world from the ground up, even if he doesn't quite know what to do once he gets there.
However, the direction falters significantly when it comes to editing and visual storytelling. The movie’s overlong runtime is a direct result of a refusal to cut away from beautiful but redundant shots. The visual storytelling often feels stagnant: there are numerous sequences of Emily walking through forests or staring at ruins that go on for minutes without adding anything to the atmosphere or the plot. While Alexander clearly draws inspiration from filmmakers like Oz Perkins, who excel at creating dread through stillness, he hasn't yet mastered the ability to make that stillness feel heavy with meaning. Instead, the editing choices contribute to the "snail-like" pace that eventually drains the life out of the project.
Trailer Gale: Yellow Brick Road (2026)
Music and Atmosphere: Searching For Tension In A Silent Hill
The atmosphere of the film is a deliberate attempt to blend the iconography of Oz with the psychological dread of a game like Silent Hill. This is achieved through a combination of desolate soundscapes and a score that emphasizes low-frequency hums and metallic clangs. The audio design is successful in establishing a mood of persistent unease, and there are moments where the sound of the wind or the distant screech of a monkey creates a genuine sense of location. When the film is at its most quiet, the sound design does a lot of the heavy lifting to keep the audience on edge.
Unfortunately, the atmosphere never quite translates into genuine tension or scares. A film can be moody and dark for its entire duration, but without a sense of escalating threat, that mood eventually becomes monotonous. The audio enhances the experience by grounding us in this rotting version of Oz, but it cannot fix the fundamental lack of "cinematic oomph." The soundtrack is atmospheric but forgettable, serving its purpose in the moment without leaving a lasting impression. It captures the "dream vs. reality" theme well enough, but like the rest of the film, it seems to be content with just existing in that space rather than pushing the audience toward a visceral reaction.
Strengths and Weaknesses
What works well:
- Exceptional Production Design: The practical effects, particularly the "Patches" suit and the flying monkeys, are inventive and terrifying.
- Artful Cinematography: Daniel Alexander creates a visually stunning version of Oz that feels tangible, gritty, and sumptuously dark.
- Intriguing Premise: The idea of treating Dorothy’s adventure as a source of generational trauma is a strong, original hook for a horror reimagining.
- Practical Ambition: For an independent production, the commitment to practical creature work is commendable and sets it apart from CGI-heavy competitors.
What doesn't work:
- Glacial Pacing: The film moves at a tempo that is so slow it risks putting the audience to sleep before the halfway mark.
- Lackluster Acting: The performances are generally unengaging, making it difficult to care about the protagonist’s journey.
- Dull Narrative: The story is predictable and often trails several steps behind the audience’s own intuition.
- Absence of Real Scares: Despite the creepy imagery, the film fails to generate any genuine tension or sustained horror.
- Overlong Runtime: At 104 minutes, the film feels vastly overextended, with far too many redundant shots and slow-walking sequences.
Final Verdict: A Visual Odyssey That Goes Nowhere Slowly
Rating: 2/5 stars
Gale: Yellow Brick Road is a prime example of a film where the director’s eye for imagery has outpaced his ability to tell a compelling story. It is a work of undeniable visual ambition, offering a version of Oz that is as beautiful as it is horrific. For those who appreciate production design and practical creature suits, there is plenty to admire here. The reimagining of the flying monkeys alone is worth a look for horror enthusiasts who value craft. However, a movie cannot survive on aesthetics alone, and the "mute thud" of the narrative eventually overshadows the brilliance of the visuals.
This is a film for the visual purists: those who can sit through a glacial runtime just to soak in the atmosphere and the lighting. If you are a fan of "slow cinema" and don't mind a plot that moves with the speed of continental drift, you might find something to appreciate in the way Daniel Alexander frames this nightmare. It is a movie that wants to be a profound psychological study of trauma, but it settles for being a very pretty, very long montage of dark imagery.
Ultimately, I cannot recommend this to a general audience or even to die-hard horror fans looking for a thrill. It is simply too dull for its own good. The lack of engaging performances and the predictable script turn what should have been a terrifying descent into madness into a tedious exercise in patience. If you’re looking for a dark take on a classic tale, there are far better and more tightly paced options available. As it stands, this is a road that lead to nowhere, and by the time you reach the end, you’ll likely wish you had just stayed home in Kansas.
Recommendation: Skip this one in theaters unless you are a student of production design. If you must see it, wait for a home release where you can appreciate the visuals at your own pace without the commitment of a theater seat.
 Movie Review: A Sumptuous But Stagnant Descent Into A Nightmare Realm That Forgets To Bring The Magic){kind=link}
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