Hokum

Hokum isn't trying to be the scariest movie you've ever seen, and honestly, it's better for it. While it might not rely on constant jump scares, it excels at maintaining a thick sense of tension that hangs over almost the entire film. It's the kind of movie that gets under your skin and stays there long after the credits roll.

The story starts with a main character (played by Adam Scott) who, let's be honest, kind of sucks as a person. Usually, that's a dealbreaker, but here it actually helps build the tension. Because you aren't necessarily rooting for him early on, you're watching his situation with a bit of detached dread. However, the writers did a great job digging deep into the "why" behind his personality. As the movie peels back the layers of his past trauma, your understanding of him shifts. You go from disliking him to desperately rooting for him to make it out alive.

That sense of dread is amplified by some truly incredible craft work. The production team clearly put the work in with location scouting; the setting captures that damp, bone-chilling Ireland atmosphere that feels haunting before anything even happens. The set design for the hotel—a secluded lodge tucked into the forest—is exactly what you'd hope for. It feels authentic and lived-in, but the small details like the statues and cherubs scattered throughout the rooms add a layer of unease that feeds directly into the suspense.

The cinematography matches this dark and gritty tone perfectly. My favorite part of the filming was how the camera lingers on certain shots. It's maddening in the best way; it stays on a frame just long enough to make you scan the shadows for something that might pop out. What's really interesting is how that emotional investment and technical lingering turns the tension up to an eleven. Once you actually care about the character, you start looking for every little thing hiding in those shadows. You end up scaring yourself more than the movie is actually scaring you, which is a testament to how well the atmosphere is built.

While there are definitely frightening moments, the film's real strength is how it blends its themes. It isn't just a monster movie; it delves into myth, psychology, and superstition. The way it balances the internal struggle of the character with the external legends is handled perfectly. By the time you hit the last third of the movie, it turns into a total rollercoaster. I was personally ready to get off and catch my breath, while my best friend beside me was giggling away—which is just his nervous "I'm terrified" reaction.

Is this the absolute best movie of the year? Maybe not. But it is the one my friend and I couldn't stop talking about on the phone all the way home. It's thought-provoking, mysterious, and incredibly tense. It's the kind of cinematic experience that reminds you why we still gather in the dark: for that shared, heart-pounding tension that stays with you long after you leave.