Review of Hokum: Trauma and Fable

Written and directed by Damian McCarthy, Hokum arrives in theaters backed by high praise from specialized critics and drawing many horror fans to the big screen. The film is his third feature, following Caveat (2020) and Oddity (2024). This time, the director dives into a haunted hotel in Ireland that promises plenty of terror, alongside a bizarre fable orbiting the location.

Starring Adam Scott, who spent the entirety of the series Severance trying to figure out who he was at work, plays a man here who also doesn't really know what he came to do. The difference is that this time, the script is to blame.

The film addresses relevant themes regarding the lenses of the horror genre and follows the director's mastery of genre work! However, is the proposed plot enough to sustain all the themes the film attempts to put forward?

It is worth starting with the joke the film tells without even realizing it: "hokum" means exactly that, nonsense, sentimental psychobabble disguised as depth. Giving this name to a horror film that takes itself so seriously is either a courageous display of self-sabotage or the only piece of honesty the script offered from start to finish.

What follows is a NO-spoiler review. You can explore this hotel without fear. Just be careful not to let your candle go out.

The film tells the story of Ohm Bauman, played by Adam Scott, an egocentric, lonely, and rough-around-the-edges writer whose social deficiencies are glaringly obvious. He is the kind of protagonist you discreetly hope the witch gets to first. He rents a room in a hotel in Ireland, the very place where his mother and father spent their honeymoon. A place his mother wished to return to, but she passed away before she could.

Upon his arrival, Bauman hears a legend: the tale of a witch who supposedly existed in the region and was imprisoned in a room within that very hotel. It is a local fable told to frighten children, yet something a large portion of the area's residents genuinely seem to believe.

Bauman does not care about the story; he went to the hotel with a specific goal and is there to accomplish it. Fortunately or unfortunately, his presence in the hotel and the staff end up interfering with the author's progress, culminating in the disappearance of a loved one.

From then on, an investigation begins to find the missing person, and everything points to the key to the mystery lying along the path to the locked room; the one that is allegedly the witch's current home.

Horror and Direction

The horror in the film is well-developed. The elements of the genre emerge right from the very first scene and are never forgotten at any point. A terrifying atmosphere hangs over every frame, and during the peaks of tension, you can see how the director constructs rhythm and scares with a subtle yet impressive command.

Damian McCarthy seems to have reached a significant maturity as a genre director to be able to masterfully construct the layers he proposes, both in the drama and the themes he decides to address. This does not exempt the director from falling into clichés like jumpscares and the interplay of shadow and light. Yet, the way he dives deeper and deeper into the same layers he establishes at the beginning of the film is almost aggravatingly competent.

McCarthy knows exactly where to plant the camera, when to let the silence get uncomfortable, and the precise moment to pull the rug out from under you. He is so good at the basics that it hurts even more when he decides, later on, that he has no idea what to do with it all.

Theme and Transformation

This is where things start to fall apart. The film has a lot of merit in the construction of everything it introduces, but it is frustrating that these elements barely communicate with one another. The film addresses three thematic threads, and all seem to hold equal weight, but the way they are tied together is a bit... unsatisfactory.

There are basically three movies fighting over the same hotel room: one about grief and guilt, one about the haunted room and the witch, and one about the blocked artist who cannot finish his work. Each of them, on its own, would make a decent feature. Stitched together carelessly, they become a little Frankenstein monster assembled right before our eyes, hoping the audience will not notice the fresh suture lines.

In the end, things do tie up and seem to make sense on some level, but in doing so, they inadvertently kick the film's horror into the sidelines, killing any metaphor we might have imagined for the horror device.

Hokum delivers well-crafted horror entertainment throughout its 107 minutes, but it still fails to build a critical logic around its own genre.

A drama film that never makes you cry is not necessarily frustrating, but a horror film that has absolutely nothing to say about its own metaphor feels like a stab in the back to the viewer. However, if you love the horror genre, you will certainly have fun watching it!

Ultimately, Hokum delivers on the promise of its title with almost admirable punctuality. It is well-made, it is beautiful to look at, and it has absolutely nothing to say. Nonsense, exactly as advertised on the door.

Rating: 3 out of 5

What about you? What did you think of the movie?

Would you sleep in a haunted hotel knowing you were next-door neighbors with a witch? Let us know in the comments!

As for me, I think I would befriending the witch and swapping tea recipes. Legend has it they know a great deal about the subject!

Until next time!