Reviews
‘Passenger’ Review: Van Life Horror Stalls and Runs on Empty
In André Øvredal’s Passenger, there’s a type of signage that takes center stage in the plot: hobo signs. An informal hieroglyph language of road signs, they were supposedly used by transients to communicate; symbols that could rapidly show where to beg, who was nearby, or the presence of danger. It’s a novel historical tidbit that I enjoyed a lot, and one of the film’s many good ideas in isolation. It’s a misfortune then that the invented hobo sign used to mark the film’s monster should become a warning sign for filmmakers. A stick man with three slashes in it now serves as a reminder that a few good ideas or neat shots alone cannot hold up a film.
What Is Passenger (2026) About?
Maddie (Lou Lobell) and her boyfriend Tyler (Jacob Scipio) have left behind stability for the promise of adventure on the open road. They have committed whole hog to joining the van life subculture, living on the road, in their camper, 24/7. Though their relationship seems to only grow stronger more than a month into the experiment, an encounter with a grisly car accident quickly marks them for death. After their camper is scratched with three claw marks like the car they came across, the couple are continually terrorized, stalked by a demon out for blood. On the run for their lives, they struggle to figure out what the entity is, and race to find a way to save themselves from it.
A Film About as Empty as a Midnight Road
The Hitcher with a demonic splash of supernatural flavor is a plenty enticing offer on its own, but Passenger doesn’t live up to the hype of its premise. It has some of the superficial elements of a lesser Stephen King story, down to warping a fun piece of Americana into a nightmarish trap and tying in some clever monster lore to boot. But it crucially lacks the one thing even the worst King stories have: something to say.
Passenger doesn’t really have a voice. It doesn’t stop to examine much about its characters, or the setting, or the monster in any way that really matters. There’s no examination of America’s road history, of violence against the homeless, no thoughts on religion, or classism, or the very obvious commentary on social media and the way it warps people’s desire and self-image (considering the duo give up a killer apartment and lucrative jobs in Brooklyn to sleep in the back of a Ford Transit, like seriously, what?). And not every horror film needs to be so introspective, but if it isn’t going to try and say something, it needs to at least be thoroughly entertaining as a counterbalance, and Passenger is not that.
Structurally Weak Scares Flat Tire a Great Atmosphere
Even when Maddie and Tyler look at each other and exposition dump their childhood traumas as a sort of performative bonding exercise, it doesn’t really serve any greater meaning to the story, or even serve as a way of deepening our connection to the characters. In fact, it’s pretty quickly cut off by what the film actually cares about: scares.
And believe me, I love a well-crafted jump scare and a thrill-a-minute popcorn movie, but these scares are structurally about as interesting as reading the maintenance manual for a Volkswagen Crafter. The film feels preoccupied with cramming in as many cheap jump scares as possible rather than simmering on the suspense it very well can generate, given it does so for its fun cold open. It eventually falls back on a very repetitive formula to get these scares.
Exterior, dark road. Characters stand with light source panning slowly or flickering on and off. We see the monster for a moment. He disappears. Shot of characters breathing hard and looking for the monster. Monster jumpscare. Repeat from step one.
Combine this with bad needle drops, scriptwriting that barely trusts the audience to remember anything, and dialogue rockier than a gravel road, and the structure of Passenger wears on you fast.
Standout Cinematography Can’t Save Passenger
And it’s genuinely a shame, because Øvredal and cinematographer Federico Verardi have a phenomenal sense of lighting and framing, something that seems to be more and more rare in movies in general these days. They illuminate the dark roads of the American West perfectly to make a terrifying environment that doesn’t feel washed out or excessively bright. Verardi had massive boots to fill when compared to Øvredal’s most frequent collaborator, Roman Osin, who worked with him on Scary Stories to Tell In The Dark and Autopsy of Jane Doe, but he filled them well. It’s also undeniable that despite how simple the design is, and for how frequently we see it, the titular Passenger is still remarkably creepy. When shot lurking in darkness and from far away, there’s spine tingling potential from this mysterious road monster, especially when he’s not jumping out of the darkness with an incredibly loud noise to kill all tension.
But these are pillars of gold that are trying to hold up a skyscraper, and I don’t know my zoning laws, but I can tell you it’s doomed to failure. By its halfway point, Passenger’s chassis can’t hold itself together, and the only reward you have to look forward to is the use of Iggy Pop’s “The Passenger” over the end credits. What results from this van life horror experiment is a story that would have had a better home cut down and placed inside of an anthology film, or as an episode of Creepshow or Tales From The Crypt. But as is, it’s a 90-some minute wrong turn with some solid visuals that can’t make up for the disappointment of the detour.
Haunted house stories are a staple in the horror genre. But it’s not often that a haunted house film digs its way under your skin and stays there long after the credits roll. Enter Recluse, celebrating its world premiere at the 2026 Tribeca Film Festival.
A Disturbing Return Home Fuels Recluse’s Story
Joan Wyatt, a young and troubled audio engineer, is called back to her childhood home following a bizarre accident in which her father, the famous artist Lawrence Wyatt, was engulfed in flames and left in critical condition. Joan has been estranged from her father for quite some time, so when his longtime housekeeper Lydia leaves a voicemail telling her that he likely doesn’t have a lot of time left, she ignores it. But then Lawrence himself calls, telling Joan that he’s been seeing her mother—who disappeared when Joan was a child—around the house.
Joan arrives to find Lydia armed with a crossbow to ward off Lawrence’s obsessive fans. Her father is bed-bound with severe burns, and is being cared for by a hired nurse around Joan’s age named Emily. Lawrence, who notoriously experimented with psychedelics and occult practices during his career, is barely coherent and keeps his face concealed underneath a crude plaster mask. He keeps asking about his “little spider.” It’s disturbing and deeply upsetting, especially since Joan already has a lifetime of trauma associated with the house. Now that she’s back, she begins to suspect that these “ghosts” aren’t metaphorical. Lawrence was not a good man… but something even more sinister may be lurking in the house.
Henry Chaisson Reinvents the Haunted House Formula
Recluse, written and directed by Henry Chaisson, is a masterfully crafted debut feature that takes familiar elements of the haunted house genre—like a remote mansion as the setting, traumatic family secrets, and supernatural mischief—and twists them into something fresh and, well, twisted.
Sasha Frolova Leads an Exceptional Ensemble Cast
Sasha Frolova stars as Joan, delivering a performance that is both believable and compelling. She’s easy to root for throughout the film, especially as she contends with her father’s unwaveringly loyal housekeeper Lydia, brilliantly played by Toby Poser. Mia Vallet’s portrayal of Emily is also noteworthy, commanding attention from her first appearance all the way to the end. Kimball Farley plays Lydia’s son and Joan’s friend Todd with the perfect balance of levity and tension. Frankie Seratch is enjoyable to watch as the opportunistic nepo baby art dealer Tom. Rounding out the cast is Xander Berkeley as Lawrence; even from behind a mask, his performance is intense and chilling. Berkeley even provided some of his own art to be used in the film.
Sound Design and Cinematography Create Unrelenting Terror
The cast is far from the film’s only strength, though. Sound design by Matthew Rollins will have you death-gripping your seat in the best way, and serves as an integral part of the story itself. Production designer Yulanda Yo-Rong Shieh and art director Ana María Kalvo absolutely nailed the set and made the Wyatt family mansion simultaneously sprawling and claustrophobic.
Finally, we have the beautiful and (appropriately) haunting cinematography by Bryce Holden, supported by the editing prowess of Nik Voytas, Josh Lobo, and Henry Chaisson. Not only did they maintain an air of unrelenting suspense throughout the entire film, but they also executed some of the most disturbing and bone-chilling jump scares I’ve seen in recent years.
Seriously: One of those jump scares made me feel physically ill. You’ll know it when you see it for yourself.
Recluse had its world premiere at Tribeca Film Festival 2026.
One of my favorite special interests is the Mormon-millionaire-real-estate-tycoon-owned Skinwalker Ranch. Mormon millionaire Brandon Fugal has crafted a wonderfully apophenic history in his post-Bigelow ownership. His perfectly curated release of pseudo-information through the lens of a History Channel TV show did wonders not just for his wallet but for docu-dramas as a whole. Fugal did what The Curse of Oak Island could have only wished to accomplish. BUT, three years before Joseph Smith’s teachings made their way to the Uinta Basin, a group of filmmakers set out to capitalize on one of America’s strangest phenomena. Skinwalker Ranch is a film that is as perplexing as it is insufferable.
Skinwalker Ranch: Missing Children, UFOs, and Found Footage Chaos
In 2010, Hoyt’s (Jon Gries) son disappeared in a blinding ball of light. Some time later, Modern Defense Enterprises sent a team of experts to Hoyt’s property to study what happened to Cody (Nash Lucas). Upon arriving at the property, MDE sets up a reality-TV-like number of security cameras in the hopes of finding anything. But what they found may just make them wish they hadn’t set foot on this property.
The Real History Behind Skinwalker Ranch Lore
As stated, the story of and behind Skinwalker Ranch is one of my favorite bits of Americana. From the Sherman family’s story, through Robert Bigelow’s ownership, all the way to its current Mormon occupation, the history behind Skinwalker Ranch runs deep. Dire wolves, dino beavers, and disappearing orbs, oh my! Whether you believe in the stories or not, Skinwalker Ranch is one of America’s biggest pieces of lore.
One of my favorite theories is that a resource-observing beacon was placed by, for lack of a better term, aliens when Pangea existed. Throughout the years, the dissolution of Pangea shifted the location of where the aliens placed the beacon to what is now considered the Mesa on the northern portion of Skinwalker Ranch’s property. The said beacon could very possibly be what causes the mysterious 1.6 GHz signal on the ranch, or why there are so many UAP sightings around the Mesa.
How Skinwalker Ranch Wastes Its Fascinating Premise
Now, I know all of this has been discovered post-Skinwalker Ranch (movie), but Hunt for the Skinwalker and Skinwalkers at the Pentagon, by Colm Kelleher and George Knapp (and James T. Lacatski for Pentagon), had already been released. Dino beavers on Skinwalker Ranch had already been discussed. The true terror of Skinwalker Ranch had been disseminated by three highly regarded UFOlogists. So, for writer Adam Ohler (and story by Devin McGinn, Steve Berg, Ken Bretschneider, and Murphy Michaels) to craft such a plain story that doesn’t even scratch the surface of what makes Skinwalker Ranch even slightly interesting is confounding. It feels as if the writer/story creators heard the term “Skinwalker Ranch” and decided to focus on that, and that alone. Skinwalker Ranch has zero world-building, and hopes that the title is titillating enough to get someone to click ‘play’.
The singular great aspect about Skinwalker Ranch is the casting of Jon Gries (Uncle Rico in Napoleon Dynamite) and Michael Horse (Deputy Hawk in Twin Peaks). Gries does enough carrying in this film to make up for dropping that winning pass. And it’s just wonderful to see Michael Horse in a film, even if he’s cast as a token Native American whose only purpose is to make the writers feel better for capitalizing on Native American lore. Besides that, the acting in Skinwalker Ranch is beyond atrocious. In fact, the acting feels so unnatural that I honestly thought the team from MDE was going to turn out to be the aliens that kidnapped Cody. Turns out, the story doesn’t even attempt to be 1% as clever as that.
A Massive Found Footage Failure
Skinwalker Ranch not only fails at being an interesting sci-fi horror flick, but it also fails at being a found footage flick. Full of awful CGI, bad acting, and an even worse script, Skinwalker Ranch exists as nothing more than a time waster. In fact, Travis Walton’s experience in Fire in the Sky would be more entertaining to take part in than watching even two minutes of this film–I’d rather get dry probed by the Hyperboreans than ever think of this movie again.
