2018 • Indian
A cursed village where it never stops raining, a god who should have stayed buried, and a family inheritance that is less “nest egg” than “blood-soaked theological trap”. This week on Folk ’n’ Hell, Andy Davidson, Dave Houghton and David Hall head to India for Tumbbad (2018), Rahi Anil Barve’s lavish, grubby and deeply bodily tale of greed, gold and one very badly managed ancestral secret.
The episode comes with a spoiler warning early on, and rightly so. Tumbbad is not a film the hosts tiptoe around. They follow its three-part structure from childhood dread and chained-up grandmothers through to adult exploitation, cursed treasure and the dreadful moment when a child thinks he has improved the family business model. The premise sounds almost folkloric by default: a forbidden god, a ruined mansion, a village under permanent rain, a secret passed down through generations, and a treasure that can only be stolen by repeating a ritual in the belly of the earth.
The hosts are broadly united in admiration. Dave Houghton finds it captivating, beautifully designed and full of cursed-treasure appeal. David Hall is especially taken with the film’s physical details, from the ancient locks to the sense of a place that has been sealing something away for longer than anyone should comfortably think about. Andy loves the film too, while admitting that the first act could perhaps have been tightened before the whole thing gathers speed and leaves him “shattered”, which he means as a compliment.
“It's an obscure movie, but it shouldn't be.” FolknHell host, Andy Davidson
As folk horror, Tumbbad gets a very confident yes. Its threat belongs to a specific place, comes from the land itself, and reaches back into mythic time. The hosts are also interested in whether its folklore is “real” or manufactured, and conclude that it does not matter much when the film understands the shape and moral pressure of folk tales this well. This is greed with teeth, theology with plumbing, and family legacy as something you might sensibly refuse to inherit.
Tumbbad begins in 1918 in a rain-lashed Indian village cursed by the forgotten god Hastar. Two boys and their mother tend to a monstrous, half-mummified grandmother who may know the location of a hidden ancestral treasure. One son, Vinayak Rao, grows up obsessed with that secret and returns to the ruined family mansion to claim what others were wise enough to avoid.
What he discovers is not a simple chest of gold, but a ritualised arrangement with a hungry, malformed deity buried inside the earth. Over three chapters, Vinayak learns how to steal from Hastar, grows wealthy through repeated visits, and eventually tries to pass the method on to his son. Naturally, because this is Folk ’n’ Hell and not Folk ’n’ Sensible Retirement Planning, the arrangement does not improve with repetition.
By the hosts’ own criteria, Tumbbad walks into the folk horror circle dripping rainwater and carrying a bag of cursed coins. The threat is tied to a specific locale, the village and mansion of Tumbbad. It is also explicitly of the land, since the treasure chamber is reached by descending into a fleshy, womb-like space within the earth. Finally, it comes from an older time, rooted in myth, inheritance and the kind of family history that should probably have been left under several locks.
“It does reflect folktales. Even if it isn't an actual [folktale].” FolknHell host, Dave Houghton
Andy, Dave and David all agree that it qualifies. They discuss whether Hastar belongs to an established tradition or is more Lovecraftian invention, but the film’s invented mythology still behaves like folklore. It has a taboo, a ritual, a warning, a punishment and a community hollowed out by the consequences of ignoring all four.
The one reservation is that Tumbbad is more linear than some folk horror. Dave Houghton notes that it lacks some of the strange, uncanny social unease of The Wicker Man. Even so, its earthy imagery, cursed inheritance and ancient localised threat make it one of the clearer fits they have covered.
- Greed as inheritance Vinayak does not merely discover the treasure, he builds his identity around returning to it. The horror deepens when greed stops being a flaw and becomes a family trade.
- The land as body The descent into the earth is not symbolic wallpaper. The hosts repeatedly read the treasure chamber as womb-like, organic and gruesomely alive.
- Manufactured folklore that works The mythology may not be a direct lift from an old tale, but it carries the rhythm of one. A forbidden god, a chant, a ritual and a punishment are more than enough to make the story feel old.
- Containment and consequence David Hall is intrigued by the locks, the sealed spaces and the question of what Hastar might be if released. The film’s danger is frightening partly because it is both immense and strangely boxed in.
- Beauty, rot and rain The hosts admire the production design, the ruined buildings, the grey palette and the constant rain. Tumbbad looks gorgeous, but in the way damp stone, bad decisions and ancestral mildew can be gorgeous.
- A monster that changes shape Hastar is not just a jump-scare creature. The hosts notice how its appearance and threat seem to evolve, especially as human greed becomes more ambitious and more stupid.
The verdict is firmly positive, though not hysterical. All three hosts score Tumbbad a seven out of ten, landing it at 21 out of 30, or what Andy improvises as a low B. That sounds modest, but the discussion is full of admiration: it is beautifully shot, carefully designed, strongly atmospheric and much more deserving of attention than its relative obscurity suggests.
“I'd recommend anyone to watch it.” FolknHell host, David Hall
The caveats are mostly about pacing and depth. Andy thinks the first act could be sharper, while Dave Houghton feels the film is very contained and perhaps not quite deep enough to reach the very top tier. Still, as a piece of folk horror, Tumbbad is a strong, rain-soaked yes: old gods, bad bargains, inherited rot and the sort of treasure hunt that makes a savings account look positively heroic.
How each host rated this film