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- From Irish indie auteur to full-throttle folk horror
- Plot snapshot: grief, secrets, and a haunted honeymoon suite
- Adam Scott: the charm turned weapon
- How McCarthy manufactures dread and jump scares
- Production design: rot, wood, and obsessive detail
- Supporting players and emotional stakes
- Moments that linger: scenes to watch for
- Where Hokum sits among modern horror
- Why horror lovers will talk about this one
- Festival buzz and when you can see it
Damian McCarthy’s Hokum lands like a jolt to the system: a tight, eerie folk-horror that twists folklore, claustrophobia, and a star’s unlikable charisma into something that keeps you tense long after the credits roll.
From Irish indie auteur to full-throttle folk horror
Damian McCarthy first drew attention with Caveat in 2020. He followed with Oddity, a myth-steeped chiller that leaned into rural dread. Hokum feels like the logical next step. McCarthy tightens his camera, deepens his lore, and pushes atmosphere to a near-unbearable pitch. The film is small in setting and huge in ambition. It folds familiar folk-horror ingredients into fresh, unnerving compositions.
Plot snapshot: grief, secrets, and a haunted honeymoon suite
Ohm Bauman, a successful American writer, travels to Ireland to scatter his parents’ ashes. He came for closure. He finds a hotel with a dark past instead. The building hums with local stories about a witch tied to the honeymoon suite. When a woman goes missing, Ohm is pulled into the town’s mysteries. He is both investigator and provocateur, and his impatience with small-town belief systems speeds the film toward violent reckonings.
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Key characters and cast
- Ohm Bauman — Adam Scott: the prickly, complicated protagonist.
- Jerry — David Wilmot: a goat-tending outcast with secrets.
- Hotel manager — Peter Coonan: eager, theatrical, and thin-skinned.
- Bartender — Florence Ordesh: quietly kind and cautious.
- Owner — Brendan Conroy: storyteller and keeper of local fear.
- Alby — Will O’Connell: a young bellhop who dreams of writing.
Adam Scott: the charm turned weapon
Scott’s career is full of pivots. He can be affable, antiheroic, or quietly dangerous. In Hokum he uses that range to full advantage. His Ohm is entitled, sharp-tongued, and magnetic. That makes the character both watchable and infuriating. Scott’s performance amplifies the film’s moral weight. When Ohm mocks the locals, it feels earned as a foil for the dread to follow. When he falters, his vulnerability cuts deeper because we’ve already seen his cruelty.
Scott is not here to be liked. He is an engine for tension.
How McCarthy manufactures dread and jump scares
McCarthy does not rely on cheap tricks. He stages moments that twist patience into panic. Early scenes promise a spirit in close pursuit. The first shocks are sudden and brutal. Later, the film trades cheap surprises for slow-building terror. The camera lingers on small details. Lighting hides answers. Sound design teases a presence beyond sight. The pattern often looks like this:
- Quiet, mundane action.
- A strange, unsettling detail.
- Long, breathless wait.
- A sharp, visceral reveal.
Audience reactions at SXSW were loud and immediate. People jumped, gasped, and gripped seats. I felt my own voice strain during a scene built entirely on patient dread. The tension is crafted so well that silence becomes its own instrument.
Production design: rot, wood, and obsessive detail
The hotel feels lived-in and slowly decayed. Palettes of wood, faded wallpaper, and worn brass create a world that breathes age. Recurring objects—bells, a rabbit motif, a battered lighter—deliver emotional payoffs. These items are not mere props. They work like a folk tale’s repeating signs. McCarthy and his design team use them to stitch the film’s mood together.
Visual motifs connect McCarthy’s films. If you’ve seen Caveat or Oddity, you’ll notice aesthetic echoes. These images hint at a shared sensibility rather than a literal universe.
Supporting players and emotional stakes
The ensemble anchors Ohm’s abrasive arc. Alby, the hopeful bellhop, absorbs Ohm’s contempt and reflects what fame can wound in others. Jerry, a man who cares for wild goats and lives off-grid, becomes an unsettling mirror. Their chemistry forces Ohm into choices that reveal more than the plot does. The scares have meaning because the characters carry real regrets and secrets.
Moments that linger: scenes to watch for
- The hotel gate scene — a slow-burning probe into darkness that makes patience unbearable.
- An early, sharp jump that resets the audience’s nerves at the festival screening.
- The climax — physically invasive, morally messy, and emotionally raw.
Each sequence is staged to create both physical and psychological discomfort. The film pushes past one-note shocks into sustained scenes of dread.
Where Hokum sits among modern horror
Hokum sits with the recent wave of folk horror that treats superstition as social truth and cruelty as consequence. The film borrows the genre’s classical lesson: outsider arrogance breeds disaster. But McCarthy shifts the emphasis. The film is as interested in how people hurt one another as it is in supernatural punishment. That blend of human ugliness and uncanny threat gives the movie its particular sting.
Why horror lovers will talk about this one
- It pairs rigorous atmosphere with effective scares.
- Adam Scott’s performance adds moral complexity.
- Production design rewards repeat viewings.
- It leans into folk-horror traditions while twisting them.
These elements combine to form a picture that feels familiar yet unnervingly new.
Festival buzz and when you can see it
Hokum premiered at SXSW to strong audience reactions. Reviewers responded to its relentless tension and dark humor. The film opens in theaters on May 1. The SXSW screening made one thing clear: this is a film people will want to debate and revisit.
