Damian McCarthy is a filmmaker who knows exactly how to turn confined spaces into breeding grounds for dread. After the unnerving dread in his previous works Caveat and Oddity, his latest film, Hokum, expands the scale slightly but keeps the same suffocating atmosphere intact. Anchored by a performance from Adam Scott, the film delivers an eerie, supernatural thriller that works best when it trusts mood over explanation.
Set almost entirely inside the crumbling Bilberry Woods Hotel in rural Ireland, Hokum opens as the property prepares to close for winter after one final Halloween celebration. Into this gloomy setting arrives Ohm Bauman (Scott), a successful American novelist carrying the ashes of his dead parents and enough emotional baggage to darken every room he enters.
Bitter, alcoholic and emotionally frozen, Ohm lashes out at nearly everyone around him. During a very disturbing sequence early on, Ohm casually burns a bellboy’s hand with a heated spoon after the young man asks him to read a manuscript. It is a shocking act of cruelty, and McCarthy smartly lets it define the character before the supernatural horror fully takes over.
When the bartender Fiona (Florence Ordesh) goes missing, Ohm starts digging into the hotel’s past, discovering shocking truths that could endanger his life.
Scott is excellent here because he refuses to soften Ohm’s ugliness. Best known lately for his melancholic turn in Severance, the actor leans fully into this character’s emotional emptiness. Even as strange noises echo through the hotel and whispers of a witch trapped inside the sealed honeymoon suite grow louder, Scott keeps Ohm detached and rigid, making his slow unraveling more unsettling.
The hotel itself becomes the film’s greatest asset. McCarthy and cinematographer Colm Hogan drench every corridor in murky shadows, weak yellow light and damp decay. The place feels hostile before anything paranormal even appears.
Creaking floorboards, ringing bells and distant voices create a constant sense of unease, while McCarthy’s control over timing turns simple dark hallways into nerve-racking set pieces. He understands that horror often works best when audiences are left waiting for something terrible to happen.
The folklore-heavy imagery, talk of witches and haunted woods, and the grimy atmosphere give Hokum the feel of an old gothic paperback, best enjoyed on a rainy afternoon.
Among the supporting cast, David Wilmot is terrific as Jerry, an eccentric drifter living in the nearby woods, while Florence Ordesh brings warmth and quiet sadness to Fiona, the bartender who becomes Ohm’s closest emotional connection.
But while Hokum starts strongly, it loses some of its grip once the mystery begins unfolding. McCarthy is far more effective at building tension than explaining it. The deeper the film digs into the hotel’s dark history and supernatural mythology, the less interesting it becomes. The final act leans too heavily on exposition, which becomes the final nail in the coffin.