Film Fests
[REVIEW] Fantastic Fest 2025: ‘Mārama’ Is a Lush Gothic Expression of Colonialism’s Scars
Take it from the pastiest British person you know: the history of Britain is not an exclusively white history. That feels important to reiterate right now at a time when right-wing idiots are painting St. George’s flags all over England and spewing nonsense about taking “their” country back. The nation so concerned with immigration today once plunged its greedy fingers into every pocket of the world, pilfering its riches, ransacking cultures, and dragging people from their homes. Some of those people found a new home—willingly or otherwise—in the British Isles, yet they are so often left out of our history as to become invisible. Set in Victorian England, Mārama, the debut feature of writer-director Taratoa Stappard, shines a bright spotlight on the colonial scars that Britain likes to pretend are long-since healed, if it acknowledges them at all, revealing that they’re very much still bleeding.
A Warm Smile Hides a Hungry Eye
Mārama opens with a shot of a woman with fresh cuts on her chin. Anyone possessing even a passing familiarity with Māori culture will likely recognize this for what it is—not the aftermath of an attack, but an act of defiance, a freshly chiseled moko kauae tattoo. We’re then introduced to our protagonist, the eponymous Mārama (Ariāna Osborne), a young Māori woman who was given the anglicized name “Mary” by the European couple that adopted her after she was orphaned. She’s just made the arduous 73-day journey from Aotearoa to North Yorkshire, England, after receiving a letter from a man claiming to know something of her heritage.
Unfortunately, after a not-so-friendly welcome from the locals, Mārama discovers that the man who summoned her has died. With few other options, she reluctantly accepts a job offer from whaling tycoon Nathaniel Cole (Toby Stephens), who is looking for a governess for his niece, Anna (Evelyn Towersey).
The Facade of Cultural Appreciation in Mārama
Stephens initially portrays Cole as a warm and enlightened man with a deep appreciation for Mārama’s culture. He speaks the Māori language. His mansion is filled with Māori artifacts. But the warning signs are there from the start: a passing reference to the Māori people as “specimens;” a painting depicting the white man taming the “savages” on his wall. The deeper Mārama ventures into the stately home and grounds, the clearer it becomes that Cole’s proclaimed appreciation disguises appropriation in its darkest form: he takes whatever he wants, even that which is most sacred, most personal, and reduces it to mere decoration, to costume.
Stappard layers nuance into this portrait of colonial greed by contrasting Mārama’s experience with that of Cole’s servant, Peggy (Umi Myers), also a woman of color but not Māori. Peggy at first resents Mārama’s seemingly cushy existence in the house, highlighting the barriers to solidarity that can make it harder for marginalized groups to stand up to shared enemies. It’s all oppression, and of a kind that is especially heightened for women, but Cole’s fetishization of the Māori culture creates all-new avenues for objectification and harm.
Biting Back a Cry of Defiance
Osborne embues Mārama with quiet dignity and simmering rage as she navigates this perverse mirror of the culture she has been torn from. Combined with the oppressive, uneasy scoring from Karl Sölve Steven and Rob Thorne, her performance leaves the audience with a sick feeling in the pit of our stomachs. By the time we’re introduced to “Uncle Jacky” (Erroll Shand), a slimy white man with moko kanohi (Māori facial tattoos, symbolic of a person’s ancestry and achievements), we flinch at the sight right along with Mārama. We’re more than ready for her to burn the whole house down, but Stappard has more evils to unpack before granting any relief, including one devastating third-act reveal that will knock the breath out of you.
The horror in Mārama is quiet and understated, but the impact is profound. Stappard taps into staple elements of the jump scare industry as his hero experiences flashes of the terrible truth through frightening visions and dreams, but these are rarely accompanied by the typical jolting music stings. The lack of score in certain scenes leaves us to sit in our discomfort, but it also allows us to experience the full impact of Mārama’s defiance when she finally snaps and fights back, reclaiming her power and embracing her heritage. Osborne’s performance is simply transcendent, aching with pain and fury and a deep longing for everything that has been taken from her. This is “good for her” horror at its finest, and when the moment comes, it’s as cathartic as it is bittersweet.
The Perfect Evolution of Gothic Horror
Indigenous horror is still a relatively untapped well as a new generation of filmmakers fight for their seat at a table that wasn’t built with them in mind. Mārama is a shining example of all the stories that badly need to be told, and all the ways that the subgenres we love can benefit from an injection of fresh blood. The world that Stappard conjures is richly realized, with all its striking architecture and lush period costumes, inky shadows, and deep, bloody reds. It serves as a stark reminder of what Gothic horror does best: reveal that which has been repressed, forgotten but not silenced, demanding to be brought into the light.
Film Fests
Another Hole In The Head: ‘Kombucha’ & ‘Weekend at the End of the World’
Author’s Note: When this article was initially published, I had stated Weekend at the End of the World used AI. After an email from the film’s publicist and producer, I am updating that portion as we have been told they did not use AI in the creation of this film. Horror Press takes a hardline stance against the use of AI, generative or otherwise, and we will remain diligent on calling out its potential use and update where needed. We thank the crew behind this project for taking the time and clarifying how certain effects were created. It’s never our intention to punch down, but we owe it to our readers to be transparent and call out AI when we think we see it. However, this was not the case, and no AI was used in Weekend at the End of the World.
There is nothing wrong with a film festival that takes chances on films. Programming festivals seem like an incredibly tedious job that will always leave people underwhelmed, no matter how great the programming is. There are two films I screened at Another Hole In The Head that left me wanting more and questioning their inclusion within the festival. I’m sure these films worked for whoever picked them, but for me, they fell completely flat. And one of them was my most anticipated film from the festival.
Kombucha Review
Luke (Terrence Carey) is a down-on-his-luck musician who is stuck on the edge of recognition and nothing. His partner, Elyse (Paige Bourne), begs him to get a “real job” after his ex-band member, Andy (Jesse Kendall), mysteriously resurfaces with a too-good-to-be-true job offer. After taking this new job, Luke finds himself happy with the influx of money, but void of personal growth. His new boss, Kelsey (Claire McFadden), forces Luke to drink their company’s trademark kombucha, or else he’s out of a job. It turns out this mystery drink may just turn Luke into a shell of a man. Literally.
Kombucha was my most anticipated film screening at Another Hole In The Head. I was stimulated by the film’s description, which was described as Office Space meets Cronenberg. From that descriptor, I was expecting some pretty out-there comedic moments mixed with gnarly grossout scenes. Kombucha failed on both of those aspects. The film’s handful of jokes were fart and poop jokes that felt beyond out of place. (And this is coming from someone who loves fart and poop jokes.) On top of that, the film’s “Cronenberg” moments were few and far between.
Flat Visual Style Undercuts Kombucha’s Strong Concept
Co-writers Geoff Bakken and Jake Myers, and directed by Jake Myers, have an excellent concept on their hands. Even the film’s commentary hits perfectly. But the film’s bland writing takes the oompf out of the overall effect. I wanted much more from this film, visually. Matt Brown’s cinematography isn’t bad…it’s competent enough. At its core, this film just feels very by-the-college-textbook; dead-center framing with After-Effects-like handheld plugins make this film feel flat beyond belief. Some of the practical effects look good; unfortunately, I was checked out by that point.
Weekend at the End of the World Review
Karl (Clay Elliott) is reeling from his ex-girlfriend’s proposal denial. His best friend, Miles (Cameron Fife), decides to take him to his deceased grandmother’s cabin for a best friends’ weekend. Once at the cabin, Karl and Miles find themselves in a world of trouble when they open a portal to another dimension. These two friends, along with their nosy neighbor, Hank (Thomas Lennon), must travel through strange worlds in order to save their own.
Thomas Lennon is Weekend at the End of the World’s Biggest Missed Opportunity
One of my favorite things about actors like Michael Madsen (RIP) and Thomas Lennon is how they use/used their fame and time to bring independent horror films into the limelight. While that trajectory made a bit more sense for Madsen’s career, it has been a delight to see Lennon pop up here and there throughout the past decade in horror. Most horror fans delight in seeing a big-name actor take the time and star in a film that helps bring credence to a genre that was once looked upon with disgrace.
One of the two great things about Weekend at the End of the World was Thomas Lennon…and then they silenced him. Co-writers Clay Elliott, Gille Klabin, and Spencer McCurnin filled a script with teen-brained fart jokes in a way that feels lazy and cheap. Thomas Lennon’s ill-written character, who is nothing more than a punching bag for two characters who lack a single ounce of comedy or character, is (figuratively) castrated shortly into the film, and any sense of self the film had is then gone. While his character was flat, Lennon brought a sense of something to this empty film.
MeeMaw’s Practical Effects Are a Highlight
The film’s other standout moment is the practical effects used on MeeMaw. So much has been done in horror, and creating a new viscerally icky character is hard to do. MeeMaw’s character (creature?) design is delightfully awful to look at. She could have easily become the film’s star and propelled this film to be something if it had been more interesting. But this film’s story is bland and recycled from other stories.
I have so little to say about this film because it exists as an hour and a half of attempted flash, with little to nothing to add to the genre. The story is bland, the characters are flat, and the jokes will make a teenager laugh (before they inevitably go back to scrolling on TikTok). Full of D-grade visual effects that aren’t even fit for the year 2015, Weekend at the End of the World is an overall forgettable experience; it’s an apocalypse of entertainment…an exercise in futility. Not even Thomas Lennon or MeeMaw’s well-thought-out (and achieved) character design could save us from this…experience.
Film Fests
Another Hole In The Head: ‘Hoagie’ (2025) Review
When you watch films for a living, you sometimes feel like you’ve seen it all. It’s hard to be surprised by films when you’ve seen everything from Salo to Inside to Slaughtered Vomit Dolls. For those looking for the next “big thing” in horror, the festival circuit is the best place to look. When I pressed play on Hoagie, I had no clue I was about to watch my favorite film of the year.
A Gooey Goblin and an Everyman Hero
An average family man, Brendan Bean (Ryan Morley), is left home alone while his family heads out for the weekend. While home alone, Brendan finds himself in the company of a homunculus zygote named Hoagie. Hoagie is a devilishly cute little goblin man that sprang to life from an alien egg and is about to give Brendan much more than he bargained for. When a right-wing militia attempts to get Hoagie back, Brendan and Hoagie find themselves in a fight for survival. Can this everyman save his new best friend? Or will these weekend warriors succeed in stealing this goopy goblin?
Hoagie toes the line between low-budget schlock satire and a genuinely great film. From the start, my reaction was nothing more than, “Ah, this film knows what it is.” As the minutes ticked by, I couldn’t help but notice how honestly incredible it was. Co-writers Matt Hewitt and Ryan Morley, under Matt Hewitt’s direction, have an incredibly heartfelt story of love and compassion that is wrapped up in a sinewy bow. I’ve said time and time again that horror comedy doesn’t typically work for me. Hoagie’s schtick never gets old for a singular second. Whether it’s poking fun at right-wing nazis who spend their weekends getting shirtless and “training” together, or literal poop jokes, Hoagie does not fail to deliver laughs and tears.
A Third-Act Bloodbath That Proves Hoagie Goes Hard
Just when you think the film has run out of tricks, you get hit with a third-act tour de force of blood, carnage, and mayhem. I’ve come across many festival films that I think could be used as wonderful teaching tools in film school…Hoagie could be used as a master class. This film demonstrates how filmmakers can effectively stretch a budget. They lean into the lo-fi aesthetic but never use it as a crutch. From the film’s unique and odd acting to its purposefully quirky, stilted dialogue, Hoagie is a film that does not fail to entertain all of the senses.
Hoagie Is One of the Best Indie Horror Films of the Year
I could go on, waxing poetic to hit a word count or get a pull quote. But Hoagie taught me that sometimes minimalism is best. It’s important to learn when to say too much and when to say enough. I’m stunned by how impressive a feature Hoagie is. This gooey little goblin gets at your heartstrings and refuses to let go. If you’re a fan of well-done, fully realized practical effects that have substance and style, then Hoagie is the fix you’ll find yourself chasing for years to come. Oh, and there are enough dong shots to make another full frontal ranking list.
If you get the chance to catch Hoagie, I cannot recommend enough that you do so. Humanity is not ready for these forces to be unleashed onto this world. You’ll laugh, you’ll cringe, you’ll squirm, but, most importantly, you’ll feel. Hoagie is more delicious than a fatty patty six-stack (with the beans).



