A long time ago, in a city far, far away I worked in a London hostel for young people who found themselves homeless. Over time one of my responsibilities became the oversight of the house next door to the hostel in which were accommodated a smaller number of people who had arrived in the UK seeking asylum. All these years later I can still remember some things about some of the people I worked with there Yugoslavia with whom I often watched and talked about football or the news updates from his homeland. At one point we even accommodated a man who was an IRA informer - not an asylum seeker exactly, but we were to treat him as such when he was placed with us.

When I spent time listening to and learning about these people what quickly became clear was something I knew at a subconscious level but had never really processed or given active thought to up to this point - that when you move countries, no matter how few tangible, physical possessions you bring with you, there are some less tangible things that you can't leave behind. It may be your own physical body, your culture, your beliefs and expectations, your memories and hopes, or many other things. All these come with you, whether you like it or not. This was reinforced for me when my wife and I emigrated by choice to South Africa; in doing so you realise how much more invisible baggage there must be when one flees as a refugee.

This is the territory His House covers so well - a small-scale British horror movie about a couple escaping Southern Sudan for the UK, placed for the time being in a nameless house on a nameless housing estate. They come with little in their hands, but much else they haven't been able to shed, and it's those things that haunt them so compellingly over the 90 minutes or so of this film.

The film stands on two brilliant central performances from the actors playing the couple at the film's heart - at least one of whom is on screen for the whole of the running time. But it's also much more than the performances - it's the clever use of a wide range of ideas and tropes such as the haunted house story, the home invasion movie, gothic fiction, or even at one startling point the Narnia Chronicles. These tropes are both embraced and subverted often to subtly powerful effect; and it's the wordless moments that are often the most powerful - sound design or slow camera pans bring us some of film's most memorable and effective moments.

On the face of it the film's ending may seem cloying and naive, but the reality is that it gives us a more profound truth than we may been prepared for; that in order to truly make a home for ourselves in a new context we must look squarely in the face of all the unseen things we carry with us, accept them, grieve them as appropriate and place them in their proper setting. Then we move on; not without those things, but with those things giving light and shade to all that we are in the new places in which we find ourselves. As such this is not only a powerful, chilling, and moving film about the refugee experience, but one about experiences we all go through at different life stages.

The horrors that asylum-seekers have to put themselves through when meshed with a haunted house storyline is what we get in Netflix's His House. Bol (Dirisu) and Rial (Mosaku) are refugees fleeing their war-torn country of Sudan; they brave bullets, rough waters, and even lose their daughter as they finally arrive in Britain where they're granted probational asylum. They're temporarily moved into a shabby, crumbling house in the London suburbs, and that's when the past begins to haunt them.

His House is a pretty strong directorial debut from Remi Weekes, who has also written the screenplay. It may just be a 93-minute film, however, His House manages to dive equal parts deep into the struggles of immigrants as well as survivor guilt. While Bol tries to blend in with the new surroundings (he sings football anthems at bars, changes his attire, and prefers to use tables while eating),Rial holds firmly onto their culture (she wears their daughter's necklace, dresses in vibrant colors, and sits on the floor while eating).

The scares, the greatest thing about horror films, are well-conceived. Weeks mixes jumpscares with more atmosphere-heavy ones in an effort to keep viewers on edge. Practical and visual effects are put to solid use in these sequences, though some fare better than others. A little inspiration has been drawn from films like The Conjuring and Lights Out, in a good way. Weekes, through some effective crafting that blur the lines between fantasy and reality, elevates His House beyond the conventional haunted house movie.

Not everything works though. The final act switches horror for a somewhat predictable twist, and while the closing frames make for a powerful set of metaphors, it feels slightly sketchy from a closure standpoint. The performances are good for a film that revolves mostly around two (or three, if you include the beast) characters - Dirisu and Mosaku showcasing credible, lived-in feats.

The haunted house flick is old and cliched these days - to be fair, it's been so since the 1930s - but HIS HOUSE manages to breathe life into a flagging, overblown genre. The point of view, that of a pair of Sudanese asylum seekers, is spot on and allows for a fresh perspective on otherwise familiar events. This low budget film adopts an understated approach for the most part, painting a grim social milieu and interspersing effective flashbacks in the narrative to tell a story of sadness and despair. What keeps you watching is the quality of the acting from Sope Dirisu and Wunmi Mosaku, who are both excellent in their parts. My only gripe is with the climax, which gets a little too drawn out and over the top for my tastes, but otherwise this is a minor gem.