After the incredible one-two punch of Caveat and Oddity, Irish filmmaker Damian McCarthy has carved out a distinct lane for himself within contemporary horror. McCarthy’s films thrive on dark, negative space, oppressive silence, folklore, and the kind of imagery that sticks in the mind long after the screen cuts to black. Hokum, his latest ghost story set in a secluded location, fits comfortably within his cinematic lineage.
The film follows Ohm Bauman (Adam Scott), a reclusive and socially unpleasant author who travels to a remote Irish village to scatter his parents’ ashes. McCarthy wastes no time establishing unpredictability, opening with a surreal desert sequence that initially feels disconnected before revealing itself as part of Ohm’s writing process. It’s a clever framing device that immediately places us inside the mind of a man who thrives on darkness, both creatively and personally.
That darkness permeates every frame. McCarthy’s signature visual language, paired with the genius cinematography of Colm Hogan, is once again on full display here. Hokum is filled with shadowy interiors, cavernous spaces, and an ever-present sense that something is just out of sight. The hotel where Ohm stays becomes less of a setting and more of a living, breathing entity, its creaking halls and dimly lit corners hiding secrets that feel almost sentient. It’s the kind of environment McCarthy excels at crafting, and, for all its solid jump scares, Hokum is at its best when it simply allows that atmosphere to do the heavy lifting.
Scott (The Monkey, Severance) is perfectly cast as Ohm, leaning into his signature dry, deadpan performance that makes the character both compelling and difficult to root for. He’s abrasive, dismissive, and openly hostile to those around him; not out of cruelty, but out of a deeply ingrained desire to be left alone. It’s a tricky balance, and Scott walks it well, even if the film itself occasionally struggles to make Ohm emotionally accessible. His interactions with Alby (Will O’Connell), a bellboy / aspiring writer, and Fiona (Florence Ordesh), a bartender who becomes central to the film’s mystery, reveal just enough vulnerability to hint at something deeper.
As with McCarthy’s previous work, Hokum operates as a puzzle box, slowly doling out clues that eventually coalesce into something more grounded than its supernatural trappings might suggest. The film introduces a haunted past tied to the hotel, complete with whispers of a witch and eerie black-and-white interludes that blur the line between folklore and reality. But much like Caveat and Oddity, the true engine driving the story is less about ghosts and more about human cruelty, grief, and guilt.
This becomes especially clear once Fiona disappears, setting off a chain of events that shifts the film into full-blown mystery territory. Ohm finds himself reluctantly drawn into the investigation, forming an uneasy alliance with Jerry (David Wilmot), a local outcast who fully believes in the supernatural forces at play. Their dynamic of skeptic versus believer adds an extra interesting layer to the narrative.
Where Hokum occasionally falters is in its execution of the mystery. McCarthy’s commitment to ambiguity and fragmented storytelling, while effective in building tension, can make the film feel somewhat convoluted. The timeline jumps and gradual reveals are stylish and intriguing in theory, but in practice, they sometimes muddy the emotional stakes rather than deepen them. By the time the film arrives at its central revelations - both in terms of the hotel’s secrets and Ohm’s personal trauma - the impact feels slightly dulled by the effort required to piece everything together.
That said, there’s no denying the film’s technical prowess. McCarthy’s compositions are consistently striking, with several sequences that rank among the most visually arresting of his career. His use of sound, particularly the windswept, almost otherworldly soundscapes of the hotel setting, adds another layer of chilling unease, while his penchant for unnerving corpse imagery remains as effective as ever. Few horror filmmakers working today understand how to weaponize stillness quite like he does.
Yet, for all its craft, Hokum never feels like it quite reaches the same heights as McCarthy’s previous films. It feels slightly caught between its identities as a ghost story, a psychological character study, and a murder mystery. The result is something that’s undeniably compelling in moments, but also a bit fragmented and, at times, emotionally distant.
Interestingly, the film closes on a note that feels almost tonally out of step with the rest of what came before - an unexpectedly humorous beat that lands surprisingly well. It’s a reminder that McCarthy has a broader range than he often allows himself to explore, and one can’t help but wonder what Hokum might have looked like had it embraced that tonal unpredictability more fully throughout.
Hokum remains a worthwhile, if imperfect, addition to McCarthy’s growing body of work. It may not hit with the same terrifying precision as Caveat or Oddity, but its atmosphere, craftsmanship, and willingness to linger in discomfort ensure that it’s never less than engaging. For a filmmaker this committed to his vision, even a slight stumble is still more interesting than most directors’ successes.
‘Hokum’ is out in theaters May 1st.
