The label “hokum” often dismisses something as foolish or deceptive. But the new film of the same name, starring Adam Scott, intends to reclaim the word – and redefine your expectations of horror.
Within the first five minutes, a startling jump scare announces the film’s playful intent. It’s a familiar tactic, certainly, but undeniably effective, signaling a movie that understands – and enjoys – the language of fright.
What sets this film apart isn’t simply the scares, but the refusal to take itself too seriously. It avoids the pitfalls of comedy-horror, steering clear of cheap gags and clumsy performances, instead offering a uniquely balanced tone.
This isn’t a film reliant on gore. Instead, a genuine supernatural chill permeates every scene, even as a wry smile creeps across your face at the dry wit woven throughout. There are moments of true terror, including one fleeting image so subtly disturbing it’s likely to linger long after the credits roll.
Adam Scott delivers a wonderfully gruff performance as Ohm Bauman, a troubled author seeking solace in rural Ireland. He travels to scatter his parents’ ashes, hoping to find a connection to their past happiness in a remote, fading hotel.
The hotel itself is a character, staffed by an eccentric Irish crew and marked by an unsettling first impression: the carcass of a goat, felled for attempting to climb onto a car. Practical solutions, it seems, weren’t an option.
Ohm is drawn into the hotel’s annual Halloween festivities, and despite a pointed explanation of the meaning of “craic,” requests the room furthest from the action. He also pointedly refuses to sign a book, and isn’t shy about delivering blunt assessments of those around him. He’s not built for pleasantries.
The atmosphere shifts when Ohm encounters Jerry, a local vagrant played with captivating energy by David Wilmot, who offers moonshine and a peculiar explanation for the goats’ behavior: a local supply of magic mushrooms. Apparently, they’re drawn to “shiny surfaces.”
Whispers of a witch haunting the hotel’s honeymoon suite – perpetually locked and hidden behind a gated lift – begin to circulate. Ohm, predictably, dismisses it all as “hokum.” But when a hotel worker vanishes, and Jerry insists the answer lies within the forbidden suite, Ohm is pulled into a terrifying mystery.
The ensuing investigation is a masterclass in atmospheric horror, filled with creaking doors, jangling bells, and fleeting glimpses of the unseen. Simultaneously, Ohm grapples with haunting memories of his mother, revealed to have met a tragic end.
Even amidst the dread, the film maintains its clever humor, from the knowing expressions of cherubic ornaments to a ghost with a startling lack of personal space – mirroring Ohm’s every move like an unnervingly precise shadow. It’s a chillingly funny image that stayed with viewers long after the screening.
The film’s strength lies in its ability to blend genuine scares with intelligent humor, elevated by a superb cast including Peter Coonan, Will O’Connell, and Michael Patric. However, the momentum wanes somewhat once Ohm is confined within the haunted suite.
While the tension remains, the central threat feels stretched thin, and the narrative introduces intriguing, though ultimately somewhat underdeveloped, human drama. A few twists are predictable, others less so, but the overall atmosphere occasionally falters.
The ending, while satisfying, leaves some foundational elements unexplained – a common frustration within the horror genre. Despite this, *Hokum* stands as a refreshing addition to the landscape, demonstrating that horror can be both frightening and remarkably clever.
Ultimately, more horror films should aspire to the delicate balance achieved by *Hokum*: a fearless embrace of smart humor alongside genuinely unnerving moments. It’s a film determined to scare you, and to ensure you enjoy every chilling second.
