2026 • Irish
Damien McCarthy’s Hokum (2026) has an isolated Irish hotel, a haunted honeymoon suite, runes, chalk circles, a witch, magic mushrooms and enough ominous corridors to keep any self-respecting folk horror fan interested. Unfortunately, FolknHell’s main question quickly becomes whether all of those ingredients are actually part of the same meal.
The episode finds plenty to admire in the film’s ability to scare. Dave Houghton preferred it on a second viewing, David Hall admitted it still made him tense even when he knew what was coming, and Andy praised the sheer effectiveness of the jump scares. But admiration for the horror craft sits alongside growing frustration with the plot, the protagonist and the feeling that the most interesting folklore has wandered in from a better, more coherent film.
Adam Scott plays Om Bauman, a cynical, world-weary and suicidal writer who travels to an isolated hotel in the Irish wilderness. The trip is tied to his parents, his past and a desire to retreat from the life he has been living.
The hotel comes with its own collection of unsettling stories and spaces, including a haunted honeymoon suite, local witch lore, strange markings, a cellar and a chalk circle that becomes increasingly important. Om also crosses paths with hotel staff and locals including Jerry, Mel and Fiona, whose relationships and secrets gradually complicate what initially looks like a supernatural mystery.
As events escalate, the film moves between ghost story, murder mystery, dark comedy and occult horror. What first appears to be a tale about a haunted place and buried folklore gradually reveals a much more human source of danger, while the supernatural material remains frustratingly close to the edge of the main plot.
Not really.
There are certainly enough folk horror props on the premises. The hotel is isolated, the surrounding landscape feels remote, local witch lore hangs over the story, there are runes and sigils drawn in chalk, and the cellar seems to promise a deeper history of protective magic or ritual.
The problem, as the FolknHell discussion keeps returning to, is that these things never become the engine of the story. Dave points out that the witch element is effectively a subplot. David highlights the huge disconnect between the folklore and the actual chain of events. Andy is blunter still: the real threat in the film comes from Mel and his catastrophically bad decisions rather than from the witch, the land or an inherited belief system.
That makes Hokum folk horror adjacent at best, and probably not really folk horror at all. The imagery is there, the possibility is there, but the folklore does not meaningfully govern the characters or determine the central conflict.
The frustrating part is that the ingredients for a stronger folk horror film are already visible. The chalk-covered doorway in the cellar, the unexplained protective markings and the witch mythology all suggest a richer story lurking just beyond the one the film chooses to tell.
Scares that genuinely work Whatever else the panel criticises, Hokum succeeds at frightening them. The jump scares land, the soundtrack and cinematography create sustained tension, and even on repeat viewing David found himself feeling tense despite knowing what was coming. The problem is repetition. Once the machinery becomes familiar, the scares start feeling like a sequence rather than an escalation.
A protagonist who is hard to care about Om’s personality becomes one of the film’s biggest obstacles. The panel found him abrasive, unsympathetic and lacking the charisma needed to carry such a fractured story. His traumatic background arrives too late to rebalance that first impression, leaving the audience with plenty of information but not much emotional investment.
The folklore film hiding in the cellar The discussion repeatedly gravitates towards the runes, chalk markings, protective circle and witch lore because those are the elements the hosts wanted the film to explore further. Andy’s reaction to the cellar doorway is essentially the episode in miniature: that is the film he wanted to watch. Hokum keeps opening doors onto more interesting folklore, then refusing to walk through them.
Human stupidity as the real monster Mel becomes the practical source of much of the film’s horror because virtually every decision he makes makes things worse. His panic, cowardice and attempts to conceal earlier mistakes turn the plot into escalating disaster. This provides some dark comic energy, but it also weakens the supernatural stakes because the catastrophe is being driven by one man continually choosing the worst available option.
Atmosphere versus logic The panel repeatedly acknowledges that the film can carry you through its plot holes because it is so tense in the moment. On reflection, though, problems pile up: the compressed timeline, the failure to search obvious parts of the hotel, confusing character movements and geography, and several developments that seem arranged because the story needs them rather than because the characters would plausibly behave that way.
Genre confusion Ghost story, occult horror, murder mystery and dark comedy all turn up, but FolknHell felt the pieces never quite fuse. The result is a film with individually strong sequences and several promising ideas that sit beside one another rather than building into a single coherent nightmare.
Hokum is a frustrating film because the bits that work really do work. It is tense, well shot, effectively scored and capable of delivering jump scares that still land even when you know they are coming.
What lets it down is the connective tissue. The central character is difficult to invest in, the plotting becomes increasingly strained, and the folklore that initially seems ready to dominate the story remains curiously underfed. The witch, the chalk circles and the cellar markings are not meaningless, but they never become essential enough to justify calling the whole thing folk horror.
FolknHell’s combined score of 15 out of 30, with individual scores ranging from four to six, captures that push and pull neatly. This is not a disaster. Both Andy and Dave still recommend watching it. It is simply a film whose effective horror craft keeps colliding with a story that feels much less carefully assembled.
Worth watching? Yes, once, especially if you enjoy tense supernatural horror and can forgive a plot held together with something considerably less reliable than chalk. For folk horror purists, though, the most tantalising material is the stuff the film leaves unexplored.
How each host rated this film