‘Hokum’ review: Adam Scott embarks on a nightmarish trip in chilling horror from Ireland’s Damian McCarthy

Dir: Damian McCarthy. US/Ireland. 2026. 101mins

An arduous journey to Ireland to scatter the ashes of his long deceased parents puts traumatised American writer Ohm Bauman (Adam Scott) inside a secluded hotel haunted by a furious witch. The film’s simple premise is supported by smart plotting, nimble editing and evocative sound, and lands with frightening force. An engagingly frigid performance by Scott furthers the film’s keen ability to conjure overwhelming anxiety from its many punchy jump scares, combining to make Hokum an exceptionally chilling horror film.     

Smart plotting, nimble editing and evocative sound

For Irish writer/director Damian McCarthy, the film’s interests in mental health, folklore and loss thematically aligns with his previous works Caveat (2020) and Oddity (2024). The latter established McCarthy as an emerging voice in horror, and his aesthetically and narratively ambitious follow-up is an audience-pleasing blend of artistic integrity and pure entertainment. Following its premiere at SXSW, the film arrives in the US (via Neon) and UK (Black Bear) on May 1, hoping to satiate the genre fans who have reliably supported other recent ‘bump in the dark’ movies like Good Boy and Barbarian. 

Famed author Bauman arrives in Ireland (the film was shot in West Cork) with much on his mind. He’s recently finished writing his Conquistador trilogy, whose epilogue, which is beautifully rendered as the film’s opening, features a ragged soldier carrying a treasure map sealed in a bottle across a desolate desert – along with the boy he’s about to kill in an effort to break the bottle open. Bauman’s bleak novels, we soon find, are a literary manifestation of Bauman’s own guilt regarding his mother’s untimely death and a father who would come to hate him for it. For those reasons, the surly Bauman is snippy to the hotel staff, particularly a bellboy (Will O’Connell) who asks if he can see the manuscript, although he is shown a great kindness by compassionate employee Fiona (Florence Ordesh).

The Bilberry Woods Hotel also holds its own secrets. Above its quaint mahogany finish and faded wallpaper is an elevator leading to the honeymoon suite, which has been locked by iron bars for decades. Legend has it, a witch is trapped there—which leaves Fiona, who loves Irish folklore, desperate to visit. Bauman also meets the inn’s grouchy owner Mr. Cobb (Brendan Conroy), the accommodating front desk clerk Mal (Peter Coonan), handyman Fergal (Michael Patric) and woodland stranger Jimmy (David Wilmot), who spends his days opening his reality by getting high on mushroom dust and goat’s milk. 

This assemblage of characters might initially cause one to believe Hokum will play like a Stephen King pastiche. Instead, the film is as much indebted to the 1930s and 1940s old dark house movies like Secret of the Blue Room (1933) or One Body Too Many (1944) as it is to The Shining. Just as those films often featured quasi-detectives attempting to track down a physical or phatasmic murderer, so Bauman is thrust into a similar role when Fiona disappears and he decides to investigate. Plus, with the hotel closed for the season, he is able to access the honeymoon suite.

In capturing Bauman’s pursuit, McCarthy doesn’t attempt to ’elevate’ the genre. In fact, he leans into its effective cliches – and when Bauman inevitably becomes trapped in the honeymoon suite for the night, you better believe McCarthy opens up a bag of jump scares, accomplishing shriek-inducing frights through good, sturdy filmmaking. The suite, for instance, is exceptionally designed, replete with a creepy hot tub, cherub statues and a dumbwaiter that leads to a dark, confined basement. The sound design, meanwhile, is a layered soundtrack of warped wailing which mixes with the environment’s creepy ambiance — creaky floors, whipping winds, and consistent chimes — to set the mood. 

McCarthy and his DoP Colm Hogan often point the camera at shadowy spaces waiting for a specter to appear. The editor Brian Philip Davis divides these instances between lingering dread  tellingly, Bauman isn’t physically assaulted by the specters, but is instead followed like a bad memory that will not cease — or a quick cut employed with abrasive intent. These earned scares, plus Scott’s patient performance, build into an gripping, terrifying emotional journey that is both human and grounded.