No way it’s the horror of 2026, but Hokum could be this year’s most solid “welcome to the big leagues, kid” horror. It’s a pill that’s got the potential to draw in new horror fans, but has enough flavor to satisfy a veteran for 101 minutes. Damian McCarthy definitely learned to polish up his idea of a nightmare from Caveat (2020), to Oddity (2024), to his best feature yet. Literally, sort of. With a single watch of each under my belt… Hokum has the same theme and tone as the previous two, just waxed and remixed. I’m not mad at it, though.

Hokum That Bridges Indie and Mainstream Appeal

Even the freaks like us who live in the underground horror tunnels can understand the public’s genre fatigue. I agree- it can seem like all these remakes and re-hashes are seriously weighing down blockbuster horror these days. The good indie stuff gets looked over, but McCarthy’s most recent film is a decent little in-between. It won’t bother you with a high cinema monologue, but it knows how to make you cringe, and will lock you in a dusty room with it.

It’s vague in exposition, not that a simple idea like this really needs to be super fleshed out. It stars Severance’s Adam Scott as Ohm Bauman, a famous Yankee novelist, a guy who grieves, and a big jerk. He arrives at a boutique Irish inn to scatter the ashes of his parents, and finish the last book in his trilogy. The challenge of writing an asshole lead that still has to convince the audience to root for them is damn refreshing. Scott’s performance holds it up too. He’s got a great jerk-face even without dialogue. He’s easy to pity, though- somewhere between Paul Sheldon from Misery, and a real life Stephen King, who shares the suspiciously balanced atmosphere that drove Jack Torrence nuts in The Shining.

Familiar Horror Influences with a Refined Execution

McCarthy borrows a lot from those two, and probably a catalog of blockbuster peek-a-boo scary movies. The reason Hokum is a good challenge for the horror gateway, is that it doesn’t try too hard to “elevate” (it does, though only a little) the genre. It listens and learns from its elders to complete the haunted hotel play-by-play. Not a repeat, but a re-do of the things that work for paranormal and folk horror. The aspect that Hokum brings home is the solid polycule made of production design, sound mixing, and cinematography. A happy, creepy home of cobwebs and jump scares.

The only hotel staff spared from Ohm’s terrible attitude is Fiona. When he learns she’s gone missing after a Halloween party he was famously blackout drunk for, he feels a responsibility to return the kindness and effort she had shown him. The last person to speak to Fiona was local kooky guy, Jerry (David Wilmot). His local status is confirmed by Ohm after Jerry claims Fiona is most likely dead in the honeymoon suite… because her ghost approached him and told him so. Jerry might be crazy, but Ohm has nothing to live for, apparently. Ohm agrees to investigate the suite that the hotel staff keep locked and out of service. It’s haunted by a witch, they say. Obviously.

Production Design and Sound Craft a Claustrophobic Nightmare

The suite, and the source of Hokum’s nightmares, is stunning work in the macabre department. Despite my distaste for them, it really is a playground for jump scares. Lighting and sound design do some real respectable heavy lifting that the viewer is forced (complimentary) to sit through. My personal playground, though, would be the dumbwaiter. The last time I had that much fun with one of those was when lowering Danny into the den of lizard aliens in Zathura (2005). Hokum’s dumbwaiter plays as much of a role as Adam Scott does in his.

Besides the horrors that persist in it, the honeymoon suite really comes alive with the one or two Resident Evil-esque puzzles in order to reach the meat of the mystery. A super engaging focus from cinematographer Colm Hogan to use frame ratio, and other visual camera tricks to induce the claustrophobia of the epicenter of scares. Bring back the dumbwaiter please.

Where Hokum Falls Short

What doesn’t work is excusable. The thin background information on Ohm’s trauma presents itself too often through a jump scare/flashback cocktail. Did this movie need to be 101 minutes, or could it have been 90? Did the viewer need to understand the weight of Ohm’s undesirable childhood? Not to this degree. I think these moments also risk confusion as to what supernatural thing we’re dealing with at the moment: the witch of the honeymoon suite, Fiona’s ghost, or the lasting haunt of Ohm’s mother’s tragic death? The film takes the “less is more” rule at about 70%- not awesome, but a passing grade, no doubt.

If you’re at the intersection of video games and horror, then you know not all video game film adaptations are created equally. For every Silent Hill (2006), Werewolves Within, or Detention (2019), there is a lot of heartbreak and titles we’re still trying to forget. Which is why, when Kotake Create’s beloved Exit 8 video game was tapped to become a film, we held our collective breath. How would this quick psychological nightmare transfer to a feature-length film? Would the filmmaker chosen understand the assignment? Luckily, the movie works overall, and horror and game nerds have another title in the win column. 

In Case You Missed It

Exit 8 puts gamers into the shoes of an unseen protagonist who is stuck in a subway station. Players soon realize that this location is not what it seems. They are also tasked with spotting anomalies in hopes of making it to the eighth level and (hopefully) back to the real world. Some of the anomalies are subtle, some are anxiety-inducing, and some leave you wanting to scream WTF? However, the game is a pretty quick introduction to liminal spaces and self-gaslighting. 

The film, written by Kentaro Hirase and Genki Kawamura, understands what made the game effective. They even keep and elevate some of the anomalies that were my personal favorites. The duo also builds three very distinct characters to keep us from sitting for 95 minutes of vibes.

Walking Man (Yamato Kochi) is not just the creepy guy making circles in this hallway with us in the film. He gets a full arc in his chapter that informs us he was a human who panicked and made the wrong choice. He is now doomed to spend eternity here as part of others’ nightmarish quests. While all of the performances are great, Kochi brings a humanity and sadness to the role that was unexpected. He finds ways of using his character’s repetitive nature as a way to add subtle layers. This makes the shift into his chapter feel more alive, frantic, and heartbreaking. We know this journey isn’t going to end well for him, but it’s hard not to fully invest and feel that heartbreak anyway. 

It’s Not All Great at Exit 8

Exit 8 plays with us in the beginning before shifting from first-person perspective to reveal our protagonist will be Lost Man (Kazunari Ninomiya). He and his girlfriend are having a moment when he ends up in this subway station on a loop. Their phone conversation reveals she’s pregnant, so Lost Man is having a bad day before getting stuck in liminal limbo. This, on its own, is fine. However, after a lot of laps, he meets The Boy (Naru Asanuma) and discovers he is not an anomaly.

The Boy ties Lost Man and Walking Man’s stories together. He tries to assist both of them on their journeys while being too afraid to speak for most of his screentime. Again, all of the performances are great, but a kid killing it with a mostly silent role is highly impressive. His relationship with these two broken and frightened men is believable and palpable. He and Lost Man specifically bond and form a lovely duo that, unfortunately, underscores the pregnant girlfriend to lead to a very pro-life message.

Exit 8’s Politics Derail the Horror

Kawamura directed the hell out of Exit 8, and it’s a good time. However, it’s hard to wash away the very heavy swerve into pro-life territory in 2026. Especially as a person with ovaries who lives in a country that doesn’t want me to have autonomy. Horror is political, and this game has so many things that could have been expanded on. The insertion of an anti-choice layer into a film centered on three male characters (at three very different stages of life) is wild. I personally hated it because, aside from that, it does capture the vibes of the game. It feels like watching someone piss in the lemonade on a hot summer day.