Anna Diop in Nanny (TIFF)

Drenched in aquatic teals and blues and oceanic sonics, Nikyatu Jusu’s lyrical debut feature is about drowning, metaphorically and otherwise. Set in New York City, the hybrid drama tells of a Senegalese immigrant, Aisha (Anna Diop), who works as a nanny to support herself and also to pay for her young son’s arrival to America. (Aisha can only contact her son through scattered video calls and chats—the emphasis of their separation is quietly wrenching.) Most of her time is absorbed by her rich White employers, a strained couple, Amy and Adam (Michelle Monaghan and Morgan Spector), who live in a glossy downtown Manhattan apartment—which Amy at one point derides as an “overpriced shoebox”—with their young daughter, Rose (Rose Decker).

As if deprived of life, love, and literal nourishment, Rose takes a liking to Aisha and her spicy plates of jollof rice. As the result of Adam and Amy’s frequent absences, Aisha is asked to stay multiple nights in a mold-ridden guest room. Maddingly, perhaps because Aisha is undocumented, she is further taken advantage of by being spottily paid. The racial hierarchy of contemporary Manhattan’s neighborhoods, concrete playgrounds, and tony apartments is particularly well-wrought by Jusu. Yet instead of offering a typical drama of a privileged White couple versus the voiceless and downtrodden caretaker, Diop gives Aisha a sense of nuance and agency.

Overall, the cast does a strong job with characterizations, notably Diop’s tenacious Aisha and Monaghan’s Amy, a character that, as written, could have easily been portrayed as an exaggerated caricature (think Bryce Dallas Howard’s shrewish turn in The Help). But what makes Amy so insidious is how understated and underhanded she can be. Smartly, Jusu’s script only centers on Aisha’s point of view. What Amy is up to all day is oft a mystery.  When she appears on screen—drunkenly telling Aisha of her promotion, combatively chiding Aisha for what she feeds Rose—it’s rampantly galling and ugly in its ordinariness. The two actresses together create some of the most chilling scenes in film.

Less engaging, though intriguing, are the folkloric horror elements of the African diaspora—the Mami Wata mermaid figure and the spidery Anansi—which mark the film with mediocre visual effects. These details are intrinsic to Aisha’s foreboding tale, but the story is tense and sharply observed enough that it becomes jarring visually when these entities appear with a CGI-sheen. When Aisha’s frightening and mystical visions are more plainly presented—like the human-like figure she sees out in the waters of the Hudson River—it’s far more effective. In balancing the mixture of the horror elements with straightforward domestic drama, there is sometimes an uneven tone in Nanny, though it’s still a compelling experience.

The wonderful Leslie Uggams, with her commanding yet naturalistic presence, figures as Kathleen, a seer who serves as a guiding light for Aisha. Kathleen’s amicable grandson, Malik (Sinqua Walls), is the doorman of Amy and Adam’s building who strikes up a warm, budding romantic relationship with Aisha. Is this all preordained? Nanny wrestles with these themes of fate and premonition.

The film has a striking colorful palate—the crisp navy curtains in Rose’s room, the garb of Aisha’s friends at a birthday celebration. It’s lensed with skill and verve by cinematographer Rina Yang. Aisha is often shot from low angles—giving her a sense of physical dominance in the frame, even when her powerlessness and mental unsteadiness is so acute. Photography itself is also an important element of the movie. Adam is a photographer of indigenous cultures. In Aisha’s visions, his photographs literally move and come to life. A freeze frame of Aisha’s son on a cell phone becomes a snapshot. Tiny nanny cams dot Adam and Amy’s apartment—adding to the fear-instilling element of control (as supervision and perhaps, for Adam, sexual) the couple has over Aisha.

While Nanny is a somewhat flawed film with its inconsistent horror flourishes and its unfortunate rushed finale of several sweeping events, Jusu has given Aisha an urgent voice, complemented by an eye for the uniquely detailed.