PLUCKED (2026)

Posted on by Kstrouse

Beneath the corsets, candlelight, and rigid social etiquette of 1880s New York, co-writers and directors Usher Morgan and Katie Vincent uncover a messy, blood-soaked battle for personal autonomy in Plucked.

Rather than treating a woman’s desire to escape a toxic marriage as a quiet, whispered scandal, the filmmakers turn a high-stakes dinner party into a pressure cooker that eventually explodes into dark, unapologetic mayhem. It’s a stylish, ambitious film with a strong vision that never quite lands its ending.

Part drawing-room satire, part visceral thriller, Plucked lives or dies on how well it holds those two tones together. Mostly, it does. Not always.

source: Dark Passage Films

At the center of the storm is Vincent herself as Katherine Greene, who receives her court-approved divorce papers just hours before she is expected to play the dutiful hostess for her husband’s career-defining evening. Vincent plays Katherine with a sharp, defiant glee, savoring every horrified gasp as she systematically dismantles her husband’s carefully curated facade. Opposite her, Jared Canfield brings a fascinating fragility to Dr. Peter Greene. Instead of a one-note Victorian villain, Canfield’s Peter is a man buckling under the weight of his own insecurities and professional pressures, making his eventual unraveling both pathetic and volatile. When Peter’s brother James (J. Anthony Crane) enters the fray, the dynamic shifts into an absurd, almost childish tug-of-war over pride, property, and affection.

The leads are compelling and the supporting cast is convincing, especially J. Anthony Crane. The others: lacking genuine motive and personality. They often feel like placeholders, existing mainly to react in shock to Katherine’s antics.

I love the costumes and period aesthetics, and let’s be clear: this film is gorgeous despite its smaller budget. I loved that element. It makes impressive use of its single location, contrasting lush, period-accurate production design and cinematography with sudden bursts of modern energy. A few anachronistic musical cues and contemporary turns of phrase occasionally pull you out of the 19th-century illusion, but that friction feels deliberate, a reminder that the struggle against controlling, patriarchal expectations is hardly a relic of the past. That, matched with its feminist direction and gender dynamics, nearly sold me.

The first act takes its time seating the guests and establishing the domestic friction. Once the mask of civility drops in the second half, Plucked fully commits to its pivot from drawing-room satire to visceral thriller, and its chaotic energy makes this contained story feel like a propulsive explosion waiting to happen. And it does. However, it feels more like a whimper than a bang. I wanted the somewhat simple, seen-it-before premise to lift off in the end. It didn’t quite nail that.

The writing is where the film wobbles. Some of the dialogue was off, and the tonal shifts felt a bit conflicted, as if the script couldn’t decide whether to wink at us or wound us. I believe the writers and directors had a strong vision, and I commend them for so much, but the film still fell flat and rushed at times.

Plucked is a film I wanted to love. The performances, the look, and the fury at its center are all there, and for a smaller-budget production, that’s no small feat. But a great setup isn’t a great payoff, and the ending doesn’t deliver on what the first hour builds. Worth watching for Vincent, Crane, and the craft. Just go in expecting a sharp, beautiful provocation, not a knockout.

THE EXIT STATE: Messy But Compelling

Posted on by Kstrouse

Exit State has me conflicted. On one hand, it’s admirable for its exploration of serious themes while remaining visually stunning, all on a modest budget without ever feeling constrained by it. On the other hand, I wanted more from it, particularly in a third act that had the opportunity to say much more emotionally than it ultimately does.

Gabriela Ledesma‘s Exit State, which recently premiered at Screamfest, is intriguing, unique, and appropriately mysterious. Even its more uplifting moments carry an underlying sense of dread.

The film follows a group of individuals who arrive at a remote home near the Mexico border, escaping an authoritarian version of the United States. The property is owned by a brother and sister, played by Callie Schuttera and Josh George, who also co-wrote the script with Ledesma. What begins as a step toward freedom and hope soon reveals something much darker beneath the surface.

Safety or Suspicion?

While the political elements loom over the story, Exit State is less concerned with how the world arrived at this point than with the immediate realities facing its characters. Ledesma and her co-writers keep much of the broader context at arm’s length, focusing instead on the tension, uncertainty, and shifting dynamics inside the home. That’s an area where the script could have benefited from deeper exploration, as the emotional core occasionally feels secondary to the mystery surrounding it.

source: Chroma

Cinematographer Samuel Wilkerson does wonders with the material, creating a space that feels endless despite its physical limitations, a visual approach that complements the film’s themes of displacement and escape. The home itself is used effectively, with strong production design helping establish mood and atmosphere, while the editing remains taut throughout.

Some of the dialogue soars, while other exchanges stall. Despite its shortcomings, there’s a great deal to appreciate here. The blending of horror and political thriller elements works to the film’s advantage, while the enclosed setting and varied personalities heighten the paranoia and mystery at its core.

The group rarely feels like a collection of archetypes. Everyone brings their own fears, motivations, and suspicions into the house, making even routine conversations feel capable of altering the dynamic in an instant. The uncertainty surrounding who can be trusted becomes one of the film’s strongest assets.

source: Chroma

The film stumbles somewhat in its closing stretch, particularly in a finale that doesn’t fully capitalize on the weight it’s been building toward, and one of its villains feels frustratingly one-note. Still, the ensemble cast does a tremendous amount to sell the film’s tension, keeping the balance of dark comedy and fear operating at full strength. Several of the film’s strongest moments come from simple interactions between smaller groups of characters, where an eerie unease proves more effective than any overt scare. The characters’ eccentricities clash in entertaining ways, helping make even quieter scenes feel unpredictable. I was especially impressed by Clayton Farris, who was also excellent in last year’s Weapons. Callie Schuttera, his co-star in that film, is equally strong here. Hollywood, give them more roles!

Conclusion:

Ledesma shows a strong command of tone throughout, allowing the tension to build naturally while balancing horror, political commentary, and dark comedy without letting any one element overwhelm the others. Even if the ending isn’t especially surprising, there are plenty of thrills and twists.

The reveal works less because of its shock value and more because of how naturally it fits the film’s atmosphere. What lingers is the dread: tense character dynamics, unsettling interactions, and the constant sense that something isn’t quite right here. While some rough edges remain, Gabriela Ledesma demonstrates a clear visual style and a distinct filmmaking voice that feels worth following. Imperfect yet compelling, Exit State is a promising piece of independent genre filmmaking and one well worth seeking out.

Portal to Hell: My Kind of Strange

Posted on by Kstrouse

Woody Bess‘ Portal to Hell has premise as insane as you’d expect, but it’s presented so naturally that the film’s deadpan approach becomes part of its charm.

Debt collector Dunn (Trey Holland) discovers a portal to Hell inside a washing machine at his local laundromat. When he learns that the demon living inside named Chip (played by the wonderful Richard Kind) has come for his neighbor, Mr. Bobshank (Keith David), he strikes a deal to bring back three sinners in exchange with the help of laundromat worker Ed (Romina D’Ugo). What follows is a quirky, surprisingly thoughtful journey through guilt and redemption with ample absurdity along the way.

The dialogue is sharp and the humor lands. Characters casually discuss demons, damnation, and portals to Hell as though they’re talking about the weather, and I found myself cackling more than once. Keith David delivers some hilarious lines, while Richard Kind steals every scene he’s in with the perfect blend of menace and charm. Romina D’Ugo also makes a strong impression, bringing warmth and wit to the story as Ed.

Deadpan Delight

What makes the comedy so effective is that nobody winks at the audience. Portal to Hell plays its ridiculous premise with complete sincerity, allowing it to speak for itself. The result feels less like a broad horror-comedy and more like a supernatural slice-of-life tale that just happens to involve damnation and a laundromat. That commitment to treating the impossible as mundane makes the humor all the more effective.

As much as I loved the film’s off-kilter humor, Portal to Hell, isn’t content to simply be a goofy demon comedy. The second act digs a little deeper, exploring morality, forgiveness, and the choices that define us. Underneath, the film is surprisingly compassionate, asking whether people deserve to be defined by their worst mistakes. Rather than casting judgment, it approaches its characters with empathy. Dunn‘s dilemma isn’t simply about saving a neighbor from Hell. It’s about understanding the messy choices people make and whether redemption remains possible after those choices define them.

Some of the wonderfully weird momentum that fuels the first half gives way to more contemplative storytelling. While that shift doesn’t derail the film’s enjoyment, it does slow down some of its infernal inertia.

Trey Holland serves as the film’s grounding force amid the chaos. While everyone around him is dealing with demons and sinners, Holland keeps Dunn grounded and relatable. That sincerity helps sell even the film’s wildest moments and makes it easier to invest in the emotional stakes beneath all the supernatural chaos.

There’s also something refreshing about how much the film accomplishes with a relatively small scope. Rather than relying on elaborate effects, Portal to Hell, focuses on character interactions and clever writing, allowing its bizarre setup to do the heavy lifting. The result feels intimate in a way many larger genre productions don’t. The limited setting works in the film’s favor as well. By grounding the film in ordinary locations, the supernatural elements become even more striking when they emerge.

source: Cineverse

Woody Bess understands that he doesn’t need a massive budget to create memorable imagery. After all, a demon emerging from a laundromat washing machine is already memorable enough. As a confident debut, the film trusts its script, performances, and wickedly strange concept to carry the narrative, discovering plenty of laughs lurking alongside the fire and brimstone.

Conclusion

Despite its tonal change and slower-moving final act, Portal to Hell still keeps its legs. Of course, Kind‘s demon would probably prefer to eat them.

It’s inventive, thought-provoking, and packed with the kind of scrappy indie charm that’s easy to root for. Any movie that asks us to accept a washing machine as a gateway to Hell is already operating on my wavelength, but it’s the heart beneath all that weirdness that ultimately makes it memorable.

Delightfully bizarre and unexpectedly heartfelt, it’s the kind of genre gem that reminds us why embracing the strange can be so rewarding. And really, any movie that gives Richard Kind the opportunity to play a demon deserves more than a little appreciation.

Super Happy Fun Clown: Tragedy Behind the Bloody Smile

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There is no doubt that this will invite comparisons to the recent wave of low-budget clown horror. However, Patrick Rea‘s Super Happy Fun Clown isn’t content with simply delivering bloodshed and mayhem. Beneath the greasepaint and carnage lies a surprisingly tragic story that gives the film far more depth than expected. While the kills are plentiful, it’s the character study hiding underneath the bodies that makes this one stand out.

Hope Is Rotting

The story follows Jennifer Sullivan (Jennifer Seward), a woman crushed beneath the expectations of her overbearing mother and the life that never quite turned into what she imagined. Instead of fame and fortune, she’s stuck in a mundane office job and married to an awful husband. Her one genuine outlet is performing as Jenn-O the Clown, bringing joy to children while her own happiness continues to slip away.

At her breaking point, Jennifer combines her obsession with serial killers and clown culture, embracing her desperation for recognition in the worst possible way. If the world won’t notice her talents, she’ll make sure it notices her murders.

Meanwhile, Detectives Marshall and Barnes (Nicole Hall and Matt Leisy) are expecting a routine Halloween night, only to find themselves chasing an increasingly bizarre killing spree.

The supporting cast, particularly the police characters, can feel a little one-note. Thankfully, that’s a minor issue because Super Happy Fun Clown understands exactly whose story it’s telling. This is Jennifer’s descent, and the film remains firmly focused on her unraveling psyche.

That focus works especially well when it comes to Jennifer’s relationship with her mother, who is absolutely relentless in tearing her down. Even moments that should bring Jennifer happiness are met with criticism, making her emotional collapse feel all the more heartbreaking.

Super Happy

For all of its eccentricities and heightened moments, Super Happy Fun Clown remains surprisingly intimate. Even when the story flirts with absurdity, the emotional foundation keeps it grounded.

Horror fans won’t leave disappointed. Once the bloodshed kicks into gear around the midway point, the film delivers plenty of gore and an entertaining variety of kills. Rea clearly isn’t interested in repetition, and some of the film’s nastier moments push the creativity of its carnage even further, including a few particularly unsettling acts of consumption.

The real star, though, is Jennifer Seward. Her performance is wonderfully chaotic, balancing manic energy with genuine vulnerability. This is absolutely her movie, and she carries it with confidence. What surprised me most was how strongly I understood her despite everything she does. There’s an emotional undercurrent running through the film that elevates it beyond a simple slasher, and it’s something I found myself appreciating more and more as the story progressed.

It’s also refreshing to see a female clown killer take center stage in a horror subgenre typically dominated by men.

The film isn’t without its flaws. A few moments, particularly during the final murder sequence set inside a cleverly utilized haunted attraction, feel somewhat disconnected from the rest of the narrative. There are occasional instances where reactions from supporting characters don’t quite land naturally, and the first act suffers from some pacing hiccups. Still, those issues never derail the experience.

Super Happy Fun Clown succeeds because it offers more than shock value. It’s gory, strange, and often darkly funny, but beneath all the chaos is a sad portrait of a woman desperate to be seen. That emotional drive is what makes it linger long after the clown makeup washes away.

NIGHT AFTER NIGHT: This Heart Beats Darkly

Posted on by Kstrouse

There is a subtle strain of violence coursing through Night After Night, one that quietly infects every frame from its opening moments to its final ones. It’s a beating heart in the background, felt more than seen.

There’s no question that this is a film that will test some viewers’ stamina. Its pacing is deliberately patient, often drifting through long stretches of silence and observation. Yet it never feels empty. Visually and narratively, there is always something pulling you forward.

Josh Lobo‘s surreal sci-fi horror film isn’t concerned with delivering easy answers. Instead, it asks viewers to sit with discomfort, uncertainty, and the emotional wreckage left behind by trauma.

The story begins with Andy (Scott Poythress) and Willis (Johnny Sibilly), two security guards working at a seemingly ordinary university. When Willis grows suspicious of the institution’s founder, Janica Vox (Alexis Louder), and subsequently disappears during a night shift, Andy wants answers.

Daily Dread

That desire for knowing eventually leads into a hidden section of the campus, where an disturbing entity exists. From there, the film transforms into something stranger, darker, and far more intimate.

Night After Night is a mystery at its core, but it continually shifts shape through its various conceits. Even when the film resists explanation, curiosity remains its strongest weapon. Through its stylish temperament, it feels like a blend of psychological horror, neo-noir, body horror, and science fiction. Simon Waskow’s experimental score proves equally effective, creating an unnerving atmosphere.

Lobo crafts a dreamlike world that feels detached from reality, embracing surrealism over exposition. The film often feels Lynchian in spirit, not because it mimics David Lynch’s work, but because it prioritizes emotion over logic. Reality bends. Time fractures. Fantasy and memory begin to overlap until the distinction hardly matters.

The film’s fragmented structure and refusal to provide definitive answers will undoubtedly frustrate some viewers. Yet for the most part, Night After Night succeeds precisely because it remains elusive. What is real? Do the characters even know? There is horror embedded in the workplace itself, even without the voiceless oddity that emerges each night. As a society that is increasingly overworked, exhausted, and disconnected, during a period where reality often feels stranger than fiction, Night After Night speaks volumes.

Even if I can’t fully tell you everything it’s saying.

What We Carry

What I took from it was a story about isolation, guilt, and wounds that refuse to heal. It’s about the damage we inflict on ourselves and the people around us. As more of Andy’s past emerges, the film reveals a deeply alienated man carrying the weight of his own violence and regret. That emotional undercurrent becomes the film’s greatest strength.

There’s a profound sadness running through Night After Night. Nearly every character seems desperate for connection while simultaneously pushing it away. Whether intentional or not, that feeling becomes painfully relatable.

Alexis Louder is exceptional as the cryptic, commanding Janica Vox, bringing an unsettling magnetism to the role. Our two leads disorienting state is often terrifying to watch. Bryce Holden‘s cinematography is equally impressive. The university’s sterile corridors and cavernous concrete spaces become prisons of memory and dread, transforming familiar environments into something quietly terrifying.

Those looking for a conventional horror narrative may find themselves lost within its abstractions. But for audiences willing to embrace ambiguity, Night After Night becomes a rewarding emotional experience, one that haunts long after its melancholy puzzles begin to fade.

Josh Lobo‘s film is ultimately less interested in explaining its mysteries than exploring the scars people carry. Its horror stems not from what lurks in the shadows, but from the painful realization that escaping ourselves may be impossible.

Night After Night is twisty, odd, and unexpectedly moving, a film that burrows beneath the skin and settles somewhere deeper. Its answers remain elusive, but its emotions feel unmistakably real. Long after its mysteries begin to fade, what remains is a lingering ache, a reminder that the most frightening things aren’t hidden in the dark, but carried within us.

Or maybe, it’s both.

Haunt-Tober, Day 16,2024: Get Out

Posted on by Kstrouse

Jordan Peele’s Get Out is not just a film. It is a cultural milestone. This horror film transcends genre conventions to deliver a chilling and deeply relevant exploration of race, identity, and systemic oppression. At its core, Get Out is a masterclass blending psychological horror with social commentary, creating an experience that lingers far beyond the credits. It’s an unnerving ride that keeps audiences on edge while offering profound insights into contemporary American society.

The plot is deceptively simple: Chris (Daniel Kaluuya), a young Black man, travels with his white girlfriend Rose (Allison Williams) to visit her parents’ secluded estate for the weekend. What begins as a well-meaning, if awkward, encounter with her family quickly spirals into a terrifying nightmare that forces Chris to confront a nightmare version of white liberalism, privilege, and insidious racism. While Get Out might seem like a traditional “stay-the-night-in-a-creepy-house” story on the surface, Peele’s direction and script delve into far darker territory—presenting a vision of horror that’s both surreal and unsettlingly real.

Peele’s approach to horror is both innovative and meticulously crafted. Every shot, and every moment of tension is deliberately placed to evoke a slow-building sense of dread. But it’s not just the usual jump scares or creepy imagery that makes Get Out effective. Peele’s expertise lies in his ability to make the horror feel both psychological and physical—an invasion of space, body, and mind. The entire concept of Get Out centers around a literal and metaphorical violation, as Chris becomes trapped in a world where his autonomy is no longer his own. This theme of bodily horror—where the body is literally and figuratively taken over—is a potent commentary on exploitation, colonization, and the loss of self.

source: Universal Pictures

What makes Get Out such a unique and powerful horror film is its ability to balance terror with razor-sharp social commentary. Peele brings to light the subtle, insidious racism that often goes unnoticed in everyday life, especially in spaces that are seemingly “progressive.” The film skewers well-meaning white liberals, showing how their passive racism and microaggressions are as harmful as overt hate. The family members in Get Out may not be outright malicious, but their fetishization of Blackness, their patronizing attitudes, and their sense of superiority all build into something much more nefarious. Peele brilliantly unpacks these dynamics, using the genre as a lens to explore the trauma and fear of existing in a society that continually marginalizes people of color.

Kaluuya’s performance as Chris is nothing short remarkable. He brings a vulnerability and emotional depth to his character that makes the horror feel personal rather than abstract. Chris isn’t just a victim of a horrific situation—he’s an embodiment of every Black person who has been forced to navigate a world that sees them as “other.” Kaluuya’s expressions, his quiet moments of terror and confusion, make his journey all the more harrowing, and his understated performance grounds the film in real emotion.

The supporting cast is equally impressive, particularly Catherine Keener as the eerily calm and unsettling Missy Armitage. Her performance as a seemingly well-meaning, yet deeply manipulative figure, highlights the film’s biting critique of the ways white people enact control, even in situations where they claim to be “inclusive.” Similarly, the portrayal of Walter (Marcus Henderson) and Georgina (Betty Gabriel) brings another layer of psychological horror, as both characters’ identities are twisted in horrific ways, underscoring the theme of stolen autonomy.

What sets Get Out apart from so many other horror films is how it approaches its audience. There’s a palpable sense of discomfort throughout the film, amplified by Peele’s sharp dialogue and the unsettling score by Michael Abels. There are moments of humor, but they feel more like a defense mechanism against the overwhelming tension. Peele’s nuanced script allows the film to navigate between suspense, dark humor, and terrifying insight. Every twist of the narrative is a gut punch, leaving you reeling and questioning the very nature of the world we live in.

The film’s final act, in which the layers of deception and horror are fully revealed, is a masterstroke of both horror and political commentary. Peele’s critique of racism, particularly how Black bodies are commodified and objectified, hits home with an intensity that’s impossible to ignore. It’s not just the spectacle of horror that makes Get Out effective. The stand out element is how seamlessly it blends the personal with the political, making the horror feel immediate and relevant to our own lives.

In Get Out, Jordan Peele redefines what horror can be. It’s a film that doesn’t just scare; it makes you think, question, and reflect. It challenges its audience to confront uncomfortable truths about race, identity, and power. As both a genre film and a social commentary, Get Out is a triumph. It’s a thrilling, thought-provoking, and necessary piece of cinema that’s likely to be remembered as a landmark film in both the horror genre and the broader cultural conversation.

What do you think? Let us know!

Haunt-Tober 2024 Day 15: I Know What You Did Last Summer

Posted on by Kstrouse

Haunt-tober 2024 is here and it’s time to dive into the macabre, the strange, and the frightful during this beloved time! Join me as I spend the month discussing new and classic films. 

When I think about the 90s and horror, especially during a specific trend of slasher films: I can’t help but remember the 1997 Jim Gillespie film: I Know What You Did Last Summer. We all know it, but just how good was it?

Compared to films like Scream, it’s hard for it to hold a candle. But, I have a soft spot for the film that I have wholly accepted as inferior but fun. Nostalgia nurtured this and such recognized the snapshot which is this time period for me.

source: Columbia Pictures

It’s been a year since friends Julie (Jennifer Love Hewitt), Ray (Freddie Prinze Jr.), Helen (Sarah Michelle Gellar), and Barry (Ryan Phillippe) collectively hid a horrible secret: they accidentally killed a man and dumped his body in the water. When they start receiving threats and ominous notes they wonder, what if he didn’t really die?

Screenwriters Lois Duncan and Kevin Williamson stitch together a story made of parts of previous films in the genre, and Gillespie fills it with a young and memorable cast.

While I Know What You Did Last Summer may generate a lot of uncertainty among the horror fans, especially in comparison to titles of its ilk: there’s got plenty to appreciate. There’s an endless foray of mishap and scream-queen worthy moments even if some of the decisions make you want to tear your hair out.

Isn’t that a common outcome of slasher films?

It may not have the savvy, but it has the guts, even if they are a bit scattered. It’s a time capsule in many ways, and I don’t think it deserves full on hatred. As so many horrors, it paves the way.

In the wake of Scream’s success, the late ’90s saw an influx of slasher films hoping to capitalize on its self-aware, meta-horror approach. Among them, I Know What You Did Last Summer stands out as both a product of its time and a film that struggles to transcend the formulaic conventions of the genre.

It follows in the footsteps of Scream, but lacks much of the same sharp wit and subversive spirit. While Scream deconstructed the conventions of the genre with playful irony, I Know What You Did Last Summer opts for a more straightforward, if somewhat lackluster, approach. The dialogue lacks the cleverness of its predecessor, and the characters are little more than archetypes.

That said, I Know What You Did Last Summer is still enjoyable, even if it’s on a more superficial level. The film’s pacing is effective, building tension steadily as the characters start to unravel, and the central mystery—who is stalking them, and why—keeps things engaging enough to sustain interest. There’s a palpable sense of dread as the body count starts to rise, and the film manages to deliver some genuinely tense moments, especially in the third act.

The film does better than most of its slasher contemporaries is create an atmosphere of looming fear and a sense of consequence. The twist is somewhat predictable, and while it serves to wrap up the film’s central mystery, it lacks the satisfying, clever payoff that the genre often demands.

Ultimately, I Know What You Did Last Summer is a film that’s both of its time and somewhat stuck in it. It capitalizes on the success of Scream without offering much in the way of originality, and while it does manage to entertain, it’s unlikely to leave a lasting impact beyond its place in late-90s slasher nostalgia. It’s a slick, well-polished slasher with a strong cast, but it often feels like it’s going through the motions rather than pushing the genre forward.

More Haunt-Tober coverage to come!

Haunt-Tober 2024 Day 14: The Witch

Posted on by Kstrouse

Haunt-tober 2024 is here and it’s time to dive into the macabre, the strange, and the frightful during this beloved time! Join me as I spend the month discussing new and classic films. 

When I first watched the fantastic film from Robert Eggers I was surprised to find that this supernatural tale was much deeper, darker, and layered than I could have ever anticipated.

For a horror fan, that’s a huge win.

Set in the 1600’s in New England, The Witch follows a devout Puritan family that is banished into the remote woods. The family includes: William (Ralph Ineson) Katherine (Kate Dickie), their eldest daughter, Thomasin (Anya Taylor-Joy), son Caleb (Harvey Scrimshaw), and youngest Mercy (Ellie Grainger) and Jonas (Lucas Dawson).

When their infant son mysteriously vanishes, the family descends into paranoia, suspecting witchcraft as strange occurrences plague them.

source: A24

What occurs within this family is a uniquely odd sequence of events.

The Witch wrestles with aspects of extreme faith and a loss of innocence within the wooded isolation that the family has to grapple with. This atmospheric horror tackles so much in a way that’s organic and understandable that it is terrifying.

There’s an incredibly immersive quality to the movie that is further heightened by Egger‘s painstakingly particular attention to the details and customs of the time. Along with gorgeous cinematography, The Witch is unlike any other folk horror that came before or since. In many ways it reinvigorated the subgenre and inspired others to rediscover what makes this so riveting.

The Witch showed us horror, but most importantly, made us feel the unrelenting tension and discomfort within an intimate setting. This doesn’t feature a lot of characters so the mood is especially important within this familial group.

It also uses ambiguity, leaving viewers questioning whether the evil is supernatural, psychological, or both.

The Witch is an exceptional horror that dives deep within the confines of our own uncertainties, especially within the time it’s portrayed. Infectious and influential, The Witch is one of the best horror films of the 2010’s.

More Haunt-Tober coverage to come!

Haunt-Tober 2024 Day 13: Favorite Stephen King Villain?

Posted on by Kstrouse

Haunt-tober 2024 is here and it’s time to dive into the macabre, the strange, and the frightful during this beloved time! Join me as I spend the month discussing new and classic films. 

A master of his craft, when Stephen King writes an antagonist, you know it’s going to be a memorable one.

I posed this question recently and Pennywise (IT) came up and also, Randall Flagg (THE STAND). These are the two that immediately come to my mind, as well as The Man in Black (THE DARK TOWER SERIES). But, there’s another that’s equally formidable and especially memorable even if the lore doesn’t quite match up to those previously mentioned.

One that exists in the film world only, with no further experience to widen his history. It doesn’t make him any less interesting though, and in some ways, even more curious.

Andre Linoge (Colm Feore) is a stranger who arrives at Little Tall Island, ME with a ferocity that makes this storm not only formidable, but unlike any seen before. This is Storm of the Century, (1999) a miniseries written just for television, that shows that King’s talent lives in every medium.

source: ABC

This is the kind of villain that’s smart, savvy in the ways of human behavior and is intimidating in his ability to make you think something is your idea. He’s a powerful foe and he eventually brings an island to its knees, but especially, our lead.

All of these villains are iconic and belong in a list of the best. A creature made of fear that appears differently to various people? Genius. And Randall Flagg, well, he’s from my favorite novel and anyone truly bringing up the mantle of evil when it’s world stakes of good vs evil, deserves it. Linoge is a mysterious force, and while we don’t know his full motivations we feel his power. He also works as an example of our own insecurity, sin and lack of faith.

I just wanted to throw Andre out because he’s a lesser known and seen entity in King history but is no less menacing. Especially with Colm Feore’s unforgettable portrayal. If you haven’t seen this series, I’ll continue to be its cheerleader.

Go discover another favorite King villain.

Stay tuned for more Haunt-Tober coverage!

Who is your favorite? Let us know in the comments below!

Haunt-Tober 2024 Day 12: Hanky Panky

Posted on by Kstrouse

Haunt-tober 2024 is here and it’s time to dive into the macabre, the strange, and the frightful during this beloved time! Join me as I spend the month discussing new and classic films. 

This delightfully silly slasher is a bout of supernatural fun. Hanky Panky doesn’t take itself too seriously but delivers sharply written humor in a delirious package.

And of course, the strange that encompasses this horror comedy.

Directed by Lindsey Haun, Nick Roth and written by Roth, this zany treat follows a group of friends in a snowy cabin, trapped while a battle of good and evil ensues.

It’s a big cast with a lot of subgenres at play, but it starts with a simple story of a man and his handkerchief.

After the unintentionally invited Sam (Jacob DeMonte-Finn), arrives, he secretly chats with his talking handkerchief, Woody (voiced by Toby Bryan) who encourages him to flirt with Diane (Ashley Holliday Tavares) one of the other guests. When something seems amiss, that very same talky (and horny) cloth, may just be what saves the day.

source: Deskpop Entertainment

The film features a quirky ensemble of characters: Carla (Christina Laskay) and her dull husband Cliff (Anthony Rutowicz), Dr. Crane (Nick Roth) wife Lilith (Azure Parsons), and the campy, incestuous siblings Rebecca (Lindsey Haun) and Norm (Toby Bryan). A suspicious neighbor (Clare Grant) who keeps returning with more baked goods (that are clearly not home made) and of course, Seth Green as Harry the Hat.

It is a spirited film that has a level of absurdity which climbs beyond what you may expect as it bounces between whodunnit, sci-fi and several horror subgenres. In many ways, this is more of a weird pick than a horror, as comedy is the strongest asset that just so happens to be accompanied by qualities found in slashers. The cast is great and are having a fantastic time making this homegrown indie. It’s just 86 minutes, and you get a battle between a top hat and a handkerchief.

Yes. You do.

While this witty yet bizarre film isn’t changing the game of horror, it is comfortable within its own unique skin. The inventiveness is admirable and the talent is on full display as this is not a film you’ll forget anytime soon.

Hanky Panky exists in its own self aware bubble that is both charming and odd as hell. You won’t see another quite like it.

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Hanky Panky is currently streaming on Dark Matter tv!