A young woman cautiously descends an old, dim-lit cellarway, the wooden stairs creaking under her weight. The scene is filled with heavy shadows, the only illumination coming from the flickering flame of her small, handheld lantern casting an eerie, golden light throughout. Off to the corner, a large, vintage cistern collects the constant droplets of water leaking from the ceiling, giving a sense of depth and a haunting rhythm to the scene. The woman avoids the reflective puddles on the stone floor, reflecting the weak light and intensifying the eerie atmosphere.
She wields a small, circular tin of pomatum, believing the supposedly magical ointment will protect her. Using a shallow depth of field, the camera stays focused on her nervous face and the tin in the foreground. The empty cellar space behind her remains out of focus, adding to the suspenseful and uneasy feeling.
The composition of the scene is a balanced blend of the confined cellar space and the woman, highlighting her vulnerability against her surroundings. The camera angle alternates between a high-angle shot to emphasize her isolation, and an eye-level shot to relay her fright. The camera slowly tracks her movement, giving the audience a feeling of intrusion, as if being drawn into her fears and uncertainties.
The overall color palette is dark and muddy, punctuated with only the warm glow from the lantern, casting long, distorted shadows and creating an overall atmospheric horror tone. Despite the small space, the director plays brilliantly with the subject placement, ensuring the woman and her lantern are often on the edge of the frame, enhancing the feeling of unease and unknown danger lurking just out of shot.