2019 • United States of America
A cabin in the woods, a family half-swallowed by belief, and a forest spirit with the kind of HR policy that involves sacrifice. This week Folk ’n’ Hell returns to Sator (2019), Jordan Graham’s bleak, handmade folk horror about Adam, his fractured family and the presence that seems to have got into the trees, the walls, the tapes and possibly the bloodline.
Andy, Dave and David had history with this one: they first watched it when the podcast was still becoming a thing, then somehow managed not to record the episode. That feels oddly appropriate for Sator, a film that seems to hide itself in plain sight. The basic shape is there: Adam living alone in a mountain cabin, his grandmother Nonna claiming to receive messages from Sator through automatic writing, and a family history of ritual, dread and damage. But the film does not hand over its secrets willingly. It mutters them from another room while something creaks outside.
The hosts are full of admiration for the achievement. Graham is discussed as writer, director, producer, cinematographer, editor, designer, cabin builder and, for all anyone knows, possibly the person who frightened the deer. Dave is especially taken with how extraordinary the film looks and sounds, while David Hall keeps circling the question of whether Adam is trying to escape Sator, contact Sator, or simply prove that escape was never on the menu. “The forest is like a character throughout the film.” FolknHell host, Dave Houghton
This is not cosy cottagecore with antlers. Sator is dense, grim, visually patient and often properly frightening. The hosts compare its textures to Tarkovsky, its oppressive forest dread to The Blair Witch Project, and its chanting menace, rather wonderfully, to Resident Evil 4. There are jokes, because it is Folk ’n’ Hell and someone has to invent the phrase “deer kazoo”, but the overall response is unusually strong. The plot is hard to follow, sometimes deliberately so, yet the film rewards attention and repeat viewing. By the end, the question is less “is this folk horror?” and more “has folk horror been watching us from the tree line all along?”
Sator follows Adam, a damaged man living alone in a remote cabin in the mountains, apparently cut off from the rest of his family. His grandmother, Nonna, claims to communicate with a forest spirit called Sator, recording messages and producing pages of automatic writing. Around Adam are fragments of family trauma: a grandfather’s death, a mother drawn into ritual violence, a sister trying to manage what cannot be managed, and a brother whose concern arrives too late. The film is not interested in neat explanation. Instead, it builds a fractured picture of a family gradually absorbed by belief, grief and something older than either. Adam may be hiding from Sator, hunting for it, or being led towards it one creak of the cabin at a time.
Yes, and not in a “we found a checklist and stapled antlers to it” sort of way. When Andy reads out the Folk ’n’ Hell criteria, Sator more or less starts ticking boxes from inside the woods: isolated community, ancient landscape, old beliefs, ritual practice, and a sense that modern life has very little authority once the forest starts whispering. “It’s folk and it’s proper horror.” FolknHell host, David Hall
What makes the hosts so convinced is that the folk horror elements feel intrinsic rather than decorative. The mountain setting is not just scenery. The woods press against the cabin, the sound design makes the building feel porous, and Sator’s influence spreads through tapes, handwriting, animal bodies, memory and family obligation. The old belief system is not quaint. It is a mechanism of control and surrender.
Andy contrasts this with more obvious box-ticking folk horror, arguing that Sator earns its rituals through the density of its narrative. Dave points to the atmosphere, the forest and the sense of something ancient and earthbound. David Hall digs into the cult logic, especially the idea that sacrifice may be the route into Sator’s circle. So yes: folk horror, forest horror, family horror, and possibly a useful reminder not to listen to your grandmother’s strange woodland tapes after dark.
- The forest gets indoors The woods are not a backdrop so much as an occupying force. Even inside Adam’s cabin, the creaks, darkness and noises make the forest feel like it has fingers under the door.
- Belief as family inheritance Sator’s influence passes through generations: Nonna’s automatic writing, the mother’s apparent conversion, Adam’s obsession and Deborah’s fear. The horror is not just that something exists, but that the family keeps making room for it.
- Obscurity that rewards effort All three hosts acknowledge that the plot is difficult to follow, but Andy in particular argues that the film gives more back each time. It is not vague because it is empty, it is dense because it has buried things carefully.
- A handmade nightmare The hosts are repeatedly astonished by Jordan Graham’s seven-year, one-man-band achievement. The cabin, costumes, cinematography and sound design feel crafted rather than cheap, which makes the whole thing more unnervingly personal.
- Sound, chanting and the “deer kazoo” The film’s audio is central to its menace, from cabin groans to Nonna’s recordings to chanting that David Hall links, with some glee, to Resident Evil 4. Also, a deer caller becomes a deer kazoo, because dignity can only survive so long in the woods.
- Seeing the monster without ruining it The hosts admire how Sator finally appears without collapsing the atmosphere, even if Dave has reservations about the fingers. The creature design leans into antlers, skulls and ritual strangeness without feeling like a Halloween aisle has wandered into shot.
Sator lands very strongly with the hosts, even with caveats. Dave gives it 7 out of 10, praising its atmosphere while admitting it is hard to follow. David Hall goes to 8, calling it tremendous and especially rewarding for anyone who likes their horror artful, oppressive and not overly generous with the popcorn thrills. Andy pushes it to 9, partly because he genuinely loves it and partly because he wants the final Folk ’n’ Hell score to reflect just how high he thinks it belongs. “It is a film which will reward on the first watch, the second, third, fourth...” FolknHell host, Andy Davidson
Final score: 24 out of 30. Not perfect, not easy, not cheerful, and absolutely not a date movie unless the date is with a forest spirit. But as dense, frightening, committed folk horror, Sator comes out of the trees looking remarkably strong.
How each host rated this film