In Our Blood Review: Found Footage With a Pulse

Found footage has long been the hand-me-down sweater of horror — stretched thin, overused, and usually a little threadbare. So imagine my surprise when In Our Blood, a lo-fi indie thriller from Oscar-nominated documentary director Pedro Kos (Lead Me Home), reminded me how effective the format can be when it’s actually used with purpose.

What starts as a small, intimate story quickly becomes something bigger — and creepier. Emily Wyland (Brittany O’Grady, It’s What’s Inside) is a documentary filmmaker reuniting with her estranged mother. She brings along her friend and cinematographer Danny (E.J. Bonilla, Gemini Man) to document their reconnection. But when her mother (Alanna Ubach, Fool’s Paradise) vanishes, possibly back into the spiral of addiction that tore them apart, things start to go very, very sideways. What follows is part family drama, part puzzle box, and part horror movie — but somehow, it all holds together.

Kos brings a documentary filmmaker’s eye to his first narrative feature, and it makes all the difference. The camera, largely operated by the characters themselves, isn’t a gimmick — it’s a window into their perspective. There’s a logic to how the footage unfolds. Scenes are more often than not framed clearly, geography and signage are readable, and the tension comes not from what we can’t see, but what we almost can.

O’Grady is terrific in a role that requires a lot of quiet emotional work. Her Emily is layered: anxious but determined, grieving but guarded. Bonilla is a great counterbalance — grounded, likable, and genuinely believable as someone who wouldn’t immediately flee the moment things get weird. And then there’s Krisha Fairchild (Waves), whose presence elevates every scene she’s in. She’s the kind of performer who says more with a look than most actors do with a monologue.

The film’s pacing is deliberate, but never boring. Kos and writer Mallory Westfall let things simmer, trusting the audience to notice details and pick up on atmosphere. As the clues build, so does the sense that nothing in this story is accidental. The final third throws a few curveballs that I didn’t see coming — and I say that as someone who watches a lot (a lot) of horror.

Technically, the film does a lot with a little. The handheld camerawork by Camilo Monsalve Ossa can get chaotic, especially once things go off the rails, but never so much that you lose orientation. Kos wisely keeps the geography of each scene clear, which is more than I can say for some big-budget horror films. Composer Gil Talmi’s score is sparingly used but effective, and the film’s production design gives the world a worn-in texture without drawing attention to itself.

What surprised me most, though, was how much In Our Blood had on its mind. Kos is interested in more than scares — he’s thinking about memory, loss, and the ways we try to rewrite our own narratives. It’s a horror movie, yes, but also a story about addiction, generational wounds, and the kind of ghosts we inherit.

In a genre crowded with hollow imitations, In Our Blood feels startlingly alive. It’s precise, unnerving, and quietly humane—a film that doesn’t just demand your attention, but earns it. When the credits fade, it leaves a pulse you can still feel hours later.