What ‘Hokum’ Is Actually About — And Why Adam Scott Feels So Mean
Hokum is a folk horror film set in a remote Irish inn, where author Ohm Bauman (Adam Scott) comes to scatter his parents’ ashes and begrudgingly work on the third book of his Conquistador trilogy. The hotel’s lore centers on a long-locked Honeymoon Suite, rumored to contain a trapped witch, and a community that prefers its secrets bolted shut. Ohm, however, is not your standard, wide-eyed horror protagonist. The Hokum movie review from UPI highlights how Scott leans into a nasty, abrasive mode: he humiliates an eager bellhop and lashes out with verbal poison rather than polite sarcasm. That caustic wit makes his eventual collision with the inn’s ghosts, monsters, and human evils feel sharper and more disorienting. This is Adam Scott horror played against his usual lovable persona, giving the film its most striking, uncomfortable edge.
Two Clashing Takes: Hollow ‘Hokum’ or Effectively Surreal Nightmare?
Reactions to Hokum are sharply split, which is exactly why it’s a useful litmus test for a weird horror movie night. One Hokum movie review argues the film is a moody mystery that never quite casts a spell, criticizing its underdeveloped mythology, overfamiliar jump scares, and storytelling that feels busy but hollow. In that view, the film’s cryptic children’s TV rabbit, dreamlike psychological intrusions, and grief themes sit side by side instead of cohering into something genuinely unnerving. Another critic sees almost the opposite: a distinct entry among surreal horror movies, praising the way writer-director Damian McCarthy stages movement in the dark behind Ohm, uses a creepy children’s show to taunt his trauma, and crafts ghosts and monsters that feel fresh within folk horror. For those viewers, the intentionally shadowed Honeymoon Suite and the abrasive protagonist add up to a compelling, offbeat genre exercise.
Is ‘Hokum’ Your Kind of Horror? Mood Lovers, Step Forward
Hokum is best suited to horror fans who value atmosphere, folklore-flavored worldbuilding, and eccentric structure over clean plotting or constant scares. The film leans heavily on inky darkness, slow-burn unease, and the psychological friction between Ohm’s grief, guilt, and corrosive personality, rather than on a barrage of inventive set pieces. If you need airtight mythology, crystal-clear visuals, and relentless dread, Hokum may indeed live up to its title for the wrong reasons, feeling like tricks without much payoff. But if you enjoy folk horror film oddities where the mood is the main event and the protagonist is prickly, even repellent, there’s appeal here. The surreal horror movies crowd—viewers who like uncanny TV broadcasts, ambiguous spirits, and moral rot—will likely be more forgiving of the film’s rough edges, treating its obscurities as texture instead of flaws.
How to Program ‘Hokum’ for a Weird Horror Movie Night
To get the most out of Hokum, frame it with the right expectations. This isn’t a guaranteed crowd-pleaser; it’s better pitched to friends as a curious experiment in off-kilter folk horror than as the next big scare-fest. Ideal conditions are late at night with the lights off, so McCarthy’s near-black compositions and flickers of movement in the background can do their intended work. Let everyone know that the protagonist is intentionally difficult and that some plot elements remain opaque; the fun is in arguing afterward whether it all works. If your group enjoys parsing dream logic, you’re in the sweet spot. If they get impatient with slow pacing or unresolved details, treat Hokum as the second or third film of the night, when people are more open to a strange, abrasive detour than a conventional climax.
Double-Feature Ideas: Pairing ‘Hokum’ with Other Strange, Shadowy Chillers
Because Hokum blends folk horror tropes with surreal touches and an acerbic lead, it pairs well with other atmospheric, slightly off-center genre pieces. Look for folk horror film companions that use local legends or cursed locations as emotional pressure cookers, or surreal horror movies that treat TV screens, dreams, and memory as portals for ghosts. When planning a weird horror movie night, consider opening with something a bit more accessible—perhaps a folklore-inflected chiller with clearer rules—then follow with Hokum as the darker, nastier second course. Lean into thematic links: stories about grief and guilt, hotels or isolated lodgings, or protagonists whose biggest enemy might be their own personality. Framed this way, Hokum becomes less about whether it entirely “works” and more about where it sits on the spectrum of modern folk horror experiments.