Folk horror frights abound in Damian McCarthy’s locked-room horror mystery
Haunted by his mother’s violent childhood death and the looming end of his bestselling Conquistador trilogy, cantankerous author Ohm Bauman (Adam Scott) seeks closure by scattering his parents’ ashes at the remote Irish inn where they honeymooned. Arriving on Halloween weekend, he finds Bilberry Woods Inn populated by eccentric guests and staff who share one strict rule: the Honeymoon Suite stays locked (or so goes the legend) to keep an ancient witch imprisoned inside. When the search for a missing staffer leads to Ohm being trapped in the Suite as Bilberry Woods closes for the season, he must escape before the Witch (and other hotel happenings) makes him a permanent guest.
Even before its Witch makes her glowing-eyed appearance, Hokum is a devilishly fun locked-room mystery–with Adam Scott’s flawed, compelling Bauman as our guide through a scary-as-hell reckoning with ghosts both personal and literal. Its precise craftsmanship, sharp editing, and tightly plotted script–combined with a focus on dread and atmosphere without sacrificing skin-crawling payoffs–make Hokum the strongest entry in McCarthy’s already acclaimed filmography, and a clear contender for one of 2026’s most spine-tingling films.
What’s endeared me the most to Damian McCarthy’s brand of horror is how it channels Coen-esque tales of flawed people scrambling to conceal bad decisions that, like the specters around them, inevitably return to haunt them. From Oddity’s wooden golem to Caveat’s hidden corpses, his films blend character-driven storytelling with a darkly comic edge, where human folly collides with a kind of karmic supernatural justice.
McCarthy evolves that approach with Hokum, using the claustrophobic shorthand of Stephen King–style thrillers like 1408 as a springboard for a broken man’s reluctant confrontation with his own buried ghosts–all while facing far more tangible and far creepier ones. It’s a terrifically tense ride, with taut scenes that keep mysterious revelations, sharp humor, and genuine scares all within reach–and never in the order you’d expect. McCarthy knows just how to make you belly laugh before making you leap in your seat, scared out of your wits. That Hokum pulls this off with a largely single-character, single-room setting is a testament to how ambitiously McCarthy’s pushing himself as a writer-director–and how scarily often he succeeds.
The Bilberry Woods Inn is an opulently-designed terror trap of its own thanks to Production Designer Til Frohlich, using every inch of its confined setting to scare and intrigue both its captive author and audience. Aside from its lavishly textured walls, mildewing furniture, and ancient wood hallways, minute details like grinning (or screaming) miniature figures and beckoning dark dumbwaiter shafts make Bilberry Woods feel like a living, breathing character all its own, acting as a hell of a scene partner for Adam Scott’s Ohm.
Like McCarthy, it’s refreshing to see an actor like Scott further demonstrate the range he’s always shown the potential to have. Scott’s long-endeared audiences with lead turns in Parks and Rec and Severance (and even a small horror turn in Asif Kapadia’s forgotten buried treasure The Return). He brings no shortage of his acerbic wit to compliment McCarthy’s comic edge, simultaneously undermining and augmenting the film’s ever-escalating horrors. He also seizes the chance to mine Ohm for real dramatic depth, teasing out his trauma with a wry jab or biting misdirect before laying crippling truths bare. It’s a surprisingly well-rounded performance, made all the more impressive given Hokum’s brisk 100-minute runtime.
While much of the movie is Scott’s own, McCarthy surrounds him with brief but memorable bit parts that more than earn their “oddball” label. Leading the pack is forest-dwelling hermit Jerry (David Wilmot), who shares Ohm’s bitter history but finds his way through a warm friendship with hotel clerk Fiona (Florence Ordesh), an openness to the influence of the supernatural, and a loving relationship with nature–the latter supplemented by a healthy supply of magic mushroom-infused goat’s milk. Also memorable is Will O’Connell’s Alby, a bellboy and aspiring author burned by Ohm’s own love/hate relationship to his confounding craft, as well as Bilberry Woods’ wizened owner Brendan Conroy, whose thick brogue in telling tall tales effectively primes Hokum’s eager audience for folk horrors to come.
Few films can be terrifying, hilarious, or moving on their own–but that McCarthy pulls off all three with surprising balance within the full trappings of horror speaks to the deft, exhilarating spell he casts with Hokum.
Hokum had its World Premiere at SXSW 2026. The film debuts in wide release May 1, 2026 courtesy of Neon.
