Some thrillers go big—with gunfights, car chases, and dramatic plot twists. Others go deep. The Wasp (2024) is one of those rare psychological dramas that proves how unsettling a single conversation can be when it’s wrapped in years of buried trauma. Directed by Guillem Morales and adapted from Morgan Lloyd Malcolm’s acclaimed stage play, this taut two-hander explores the fine line between guilt and revenge, between confession and manipulation. With just two characters, one location, and a runtime that wastes no breath, The Wasp takes the concept of minimalist filmmaking and turns it into an emotional vise.
Story Summary
The film begins with an ordinary premise: Heather (Naomie Harris), a well-groomed, seemingly put-together woman, invites an old school friend, Carla (Natalie Dormer), to her house. The two women haven’t seen each other in decades. At first, it’s awkward small talk—Heather pouring tea, Carla shifting uncomfortably in her seat. But Heather quickly reveals the reason she reached out. She wants Carla to kill someone. This bombshell spins the conversation—and the audience—into a web of discomfort and suspicion. What follows is a single-location showdown where past wounds are dissected, secrets unearthed, and power dynamics flip constantly. As Carla hesitates, challenges, and eventually becomes entangled in Heather’s plan, we begin to understand that the true tension isn’t about murder at all—it’s about reckoning with what they did to each other in childhood, and what they’ve both become as a result.
Character Dynamics and Performances
At the heart of The Wasp is a complex, emotionally loaded relationship between two women whose lives have taken drastically different paths. Naomie Harris’s Heather is all sharp edges disguised as smooth polish. She’s someone who’s spent her adult life curating her appearance, her environment, and her emotional narrative. Her every word feels rehearsed, every smile carefully placed. But it’s what’s not said—what flickers behind her eyes—that reveals the true damage. Harris’s performance is restrained, cold, and devastating. Natalie Dormer’s Carla is the emotional counterweight—raw, wounded, and honest to a fault. Her performance is louder, more reactive, but no less layered. Carla is a survivor of a hard life, and Dormer imbues her with a brittle resilience. As the story unfolds, we see that her bluntness hides its own kind of emotional armor. The chemistry between the two is electric. Every exchange feels like a test, a trap, or a desperate plea. The longer they talk, the more each woman’s version of the truth unravels. This is acting as a chess match, with no audience favorites—only two broken people trying to reclaim power in the only way they know how.
Direction and Visual Language
Director Guillem Morales doesn’t attempt to disguise the play-like structure of the story. Instead, he leans into it, using the limitations to create intimacy and suffocation. The film takes place almost entirely in Heather’s tastefully minimalist home, and the setting itself becomes a character: sterile, symmetrical, cold. It reflects Heather’s obsession with control and contrast—especially against Carla’s messy unpredictability. Morales uses tight close-ups and long static shots to hold tension, often letting silence linger uncomfortably. There are no dramatic camera moves, no soundtrack cues, and very little visual distraction. The effect is disarming. We are forced to sit with the characters, listen to every word, and interpret every glance.
Themes and Symbolism
The title The Wasp holds more weight than it initially seems. Early in the film, Heather shows Carla a framed specimen of a tarantula hawk wasp, known for paralyzing its prey and laying eggs inside it. As the larvae grow, they feed on the still-living host. It’s not a subtle metaphor—but it’s a potent one. Who is the parasite, and who is the host? Is Heather trying to implant guilt, revenge, or something more dangerous in Carla? Or has Carla been feeding off Heather in her own way, for years? Beyond the wasp symbolism, the film digs into themes of:
- Childhood abuse and complicity: Who protected who, and who looked the other way?
- Class divide and resentment: Carla’s life has been marked by struggle, while Heather has enjoyed material success. But success doesn’t mean safety.
- Control vs. chaos: Heather tries to script their interaction like a play, while Carla resists being part of someone else’s story.
- Female anger: Both characters carry years of suppressed rage—at the world, at their abusers, and at each other.
Viewer Experience
Watching The Wasp is an intense, claustrophobic experience. It demands focus and patience, but rewards the viewer with escalating emotional depth and narrative surprises. There’s no dramatic twist, no climactic confrontation in the traditional sense. Instead, the film builds a quiet, cumulative sense of dread that stays with you long after it ends. It doesn’t offer easy resolutions or clear villains. It offers something more valuable: a messy, human truth.
It’s also the kind of film that invites rewatching. Once you know where it’s going, earlier lines take on new meaning. Glances become confessions. Hesitations become accusations.
Final Thoughts
The Wasp is not a blockbuster, but it is a masterclass in minimalist storytelling and psychological tension. It proves that with a sharp script, two extraordinary performances, and a director who trusts silence, you can create something far more chilling than any jump scare. It’s a film that crawls under your skin. Not because of what you see, but because of what it makes you feel—and what it refuses to let you forget.
Rating: 3 / 5
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Have you watched The Wasp? What did you think of its stripped-back style and emotional intensity? Leave a comment below—I’d love to hear your take. And if you found this review helpful, consider sharing it with your fellow film lovers or psychological thriller fans.
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