Synopsis: A horror writer visits an Irish inn to scatter his parents’ ashes, unaware the property is said to be haunted by a witch.
Stars: Adam Scott, Peter Coonan, David Wilmot, Florence Ordesh, Michael Patric, Will O’Connell, Brendan Conroy, Austin Amelio
Director: Damian McCarthy
Rated: R
Running Length: 107 minutes
Movie Review in Brief: Damian McCarthy is three for three. Hokum takes Adam Scott into a haunted Irish inn and lets him do the best film work of his career while McCarthy cements himself as one of horror’s most reliable voices. A studio bump in the night that loses none of its indie bite.
Hokum Review: Witch Way to the Honeymoon Suite
Damian McCarthy is now three for three. That isn’t a sentence I get to write often about a working horror filmmaker, and it isn’t one I’m tossing out lightly. Caveat (2020) took a bare-bones budget and a single creepy island house and squeezed enough dread out of them to power a city block. Oddity (2024) introduced a wooden mannequin so unsettling that I now have to be friendly to any I see in department stores. And now Hokum, McCarthy’s first picture under Neon‘s wing, walks into a haunted Irish inn with bigger resources, a bigger cast, and none of the close-quarters menace lost. If you’ve been waiting for the McCarthy I’ve been telling you about, this is your invitation.
Welcome to Bilberry Woods
The story centers on Ohm Bauman (Adam Scott, The Monkey), a cantankerous novelist haunted by his mother’s violent death and the looming end of his bestselling Conquistador trilogy. Seeking closure, he travels to Bilberry Woods Inn in rural Ireland to scatter his parents’ ashes at the same place where they honeymooned.
He arrives on Halloween weekend, encountering eccentric guests and staff who warn him that the Honeymoon Suite has been locked for years in order to contain an ancient witch. When a staff member goes missing shortly after, Ohm finds himself drawn into a nightmarish investigation that forces him to confront both supernatural horrors and his own unresolved trauma.
The cast may be slightly more expansive this time, which occasionally loosens the claustrophobic grip of his earlier work, but the film still feels lean, scrappy, and completely controlled. Credit to McCarthy and Neon for not letting the bigger canvas dilute what already worked.
The Long Shiver
What sets McCarthy apart is his patience. Like he proved with his previous films, he knows how to build dread that actually pays off. The tension isn’t just a runway to the scares. It is the thrill. He doesn’t rattle the camera at a teakettle’s whistle and call it horror. Each shock in Hokum has been timed to a specific breath, and the reverberations afterward keep delivering aftershocks long past where most horror films would cut. I levitated out of my seat at least twice. Each time, the next thirty seconds were almost worse, the shivers working their way out of me a beat at a time.
The fact that he pulls all of this off inside one primary location, a long-shuttered honeymoon suite that’s not as quaint as it appears, is what’s wild. McCarthy has now made three features that essentially take place in one room each, and the trick has not gotten old once. Working again with cinematographer Colm Hogan, he turns the inn into something damp and cold and faintly sick. I felt like I caught a chill watching it.
The Inn Crowd
I’ll admit I was nervous about an American lead and the slightly larger ensemble. McCarthy’s earlier features were rag-tag in the best way, and I wasn’t sure what scaling up would do to that contentious DNA. Turns out I was wrong to worry. Scott does the best film work of his career as Ohm. He plays a guy who is genuinely unpleasant, the kind of writer who burns a stranger asking him for career advice, and he refuses to soften him for the sake of likability. The movie is ever so much smarter for it.
The Irish supporting bench is delicious. David Wilmot (Hamnet) is the standout as Jerry, a town fixture who knows the inn’s history and carries it lightly. Florence Ordesh‘s Fiona has spark and stakes. Peter Coonan plays the hangdog hotel manager with just enough mournful resignation to keep the antagonism interesting, and Will O’Connell‘s awkward bellboy is a small comic gem. The film opens and closes on a creative swing I won’t spoil, but the dexterity it requires from McCarthy and his technical team is the kind of flex you only see from a filmmaker totally in command of his craft.
Every Shadow Earns Its Keep
The technical roster is doing real work. Hogan’s framing leans into negative space and pitch-black hallway dead-ends in a way that keeps making your eye search the dark. Composer Joseph Bishara, James Wan’s longtime collaborator and the actual face under Insidious‘s nightmarish Lipstick Demon, scores like he’s running a hot needle up your spine. Production designer Til Frohlich and set decorator Ciara McKenna have built a hotel that reads as unusual at check-in and as a haunted dollhouse by the time you’re trapped in it. Editor Brian Philip Davis knows exactly when to cut to Ohm’s POV and when to let him wander untethered.Â
Three for Three
In the movie industry, everyone watches a director’s third film to see if they can sustain their early promise. McCarthy’s sophomore effort Oddity was one of the best-reviewed horror films of the 2020s, and Hokum continues that strong foundation. While I’d still give the overall edge to Oddity or Caveat for their more intimate, ornery horror feel, Hokum benefits from Neon’s support without losing McCarthy’s distinctive voice. You can see the difference in production quality, and I’m glad more people are discovering McCarthy’s work.
Now open the door.
The witch is waiting.
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