Hokum

As you sit here in your adult life, do you ever look back at moments from your childhood that shaped who you are today? We all carry baggage—some heavier than others—and the person you become is often tied to those experiences. That kind of emotional weight is the perfect fuel for a compelling movie character, especially in horror. So when you take that idea and pair it with one of the genre’s most intriguing directors, Damian McCarthy, you get Hokum—a film that might just ruin a few good nights sleep.

Ohm Bauman (Adam Scott) is a successful author, but beneath that success is a man weighed down by unresolved trauma tied to his mother’s death. He travels to a remote inn in Ireland—the same place his parents honeymooned—to scatter their ashes. But it’s clear early on that Ohm isn’t exactly at peace, and his reasons for being there may go deeper than he lets on. What he doesn’t know is that the inn has its own dark history—specifically, a haunted honeymoon suite tied to a witch, a room no one is supposed to enter.

After a mysterious incident, Ohm returns to the inn at the end of the season, only to find that an employee—someone who helped him in a very specific way—is now missing. Convinced he’s owed answers, Ohm begins searching, teaming up with Jerry (David Wilmot). All signs point back to that forbidden suite, and once Ohm finally gets inside, what he discovers forces him to confront something far more than he bargained for.

Written and directed by McCarthy, Hokum is another example of how patient and deliberate he is as a storyteller. He doesn’t rush, doesn’t over-explain, and definitely doesn’t hold your hand. What starts as a seemingly simple story slowly reveals deeper layers, with McCarthy leaning into familiar horror elements and twisting them to his advantage. If you’re a fan of his work, you’ll recognize his signature touches—especially his knack for turning everyday objects into something deeply unsettling.

In Hokum, guilt feels like a living, breathing presence. Much of the film’s power comes from what isn’t shown, building toward a haunting and effective third act.

The film is packed with atmospheric tension—sharp, controlled, and consistently engaging. There’s a mystery at its core, something McCarthy excels at weaving, gradually blending it with supernatural elements as the story unfolds. Visually, it’s stunning work from cinematographer Cole Hogan, who creates a hypnotic look that pulls you in and keeps you on edge, always waiting for what might be lurking just out of sight.

And when it comes, the horror hits hard. This isn’t about cheap jump scares—McCarthy knows how to get under your skin in ways that linger.

Adam Scott leads the cast with a performance that’s intentionally unlikable, yet completely fascinating. His strongest moments often come in silence, where you’re drawn to him even when you shouldn’t be. It’s one of his best performances, full of complexity and restraint.

At this point, McCarthy has made it clear—he knows exactly what he’s doing, and he’s only getting better with each film. Hokum isn’t just a movie you watch—it’s one you experience. Just make sure you leave a light on when you get home.

Brian Taylor

Member of the North Texas Film Critics Association, and lover of all things Cinema