I just watched STAY, the supernatural thriller from writer-director Jas Summers starring Mo McRae and Megalyn Echikunwoke — and yeah, I’m rocking with it.
At its core, STAY centers on a couple at the painful end of their marriage. Kiara (Echikunwoke) is packing up their home when strange, unexplainable things start happening — whispers, flashes of memory, shadows that feel too familiar. When Miles (McRae) shows up, already frustrated and emotionally spent, the tension between them fills every room. But just as they prepare to leave, the house traps them inside. What follows is a haunting, surreal journey through love, regret, and the inner demons that can destroy us when left unhealed.
What I loved about STAY is how layered the concept is. On the surface, it’s a supernatural thriller — but beneath the scares is a story about what happens when you never confront what’s broken inside of you. The house itself becomes a metaphor for that inner turmoil. Both characters are literally haunted by themselves: their guilt, anger, and pain manifest as physical battles. It’s a powerful and creative take on what it means to be your own worst enemy.
The film also weaves in African spirituality in an intentional, thoughtful way. Instead of leaning on fear, it embraces ancestral energy — reminding us that spirituality doesn’t have to be terrifying or foreign. It can be about release, surrender, and healing. There’s a level of reverence in how STAY approaches the supernatural, and it feels culturally grounded rather than sensationalized.
What makes it even more compelling is that it’s largely shot in one location. That choice amplifies the claustrophobia, but it also keeps the story intimate. It forces the audience to sit in that emotional space with them — to feel how trapped they are not just physically, but emotionally.
The message is clear: when you don’t forgive, when you don’t heal, when you let pain and silence fester, it can consume you. And watching it all unfold — especially through the lens of a Black couple — felt refreshing. This isn’t a trauma film. It’s a story that acknowledges trauma without making it traumatic. It’s rooted in love, even in its darkest moments. The anger, the frustration, the disconnect — they all sit alongside a love that never fully dies.
Performance-wise, both leads shine. Megalyn Echikunwoke gives one of her most layered and emotional performances yet — you feel her unraveling and her strength all at once. Mo McRae matches that energy with a grounded, introspective portrayal of a man battling ego, grief, and regret. Their chemistry is undeniable, and because of that, the emotional weight of the story hits harder.
Jas Summers did a phenomenal job crafting something that feels both familiar and completely new. His writing is sharp and deeply human — the kind of dialogue that makes you say, “Yeah, that’s exactly how that would go down.” There were a few minor continuity moments, but they didn’t distract from the overall experience. The concept and execution more than make up for it.
STAY is the kind of movie that sticks with you. It’s therapeutic, relatable, and surprisingly beautiful. It’s a film about haunting — not by ghosts, but by unhealed parts of ourselves. About how love and pain can coexist. About how healing starts with looking inward.
It’s a story for us — rooted in our culture, our rhythm, and our spirituality — but it’s also a story for anyone who’s ever loved deeply and lost themselves in the process.
If you haven’t seen STAY yet, it’s streaming now on Hulu as part of Huluween. Watch it, feel it, and then tell me what it brought up for you. Because if you really sit with it, you’ll see — STAY isn’t about fear at all. It’s about freedom.