Hokum (2026)
It’s only been about five years since I started getting into horror movies. Watching the Fear Street trilogy was really my first foray into the genre, getting me into the ‘90s teen slasher flicks it was clearly referencing, and then expanding outwards from there. But I would still describe myself as a bit of a scaredy cat. I gravitate towards horror cut with something else: comedy, camp, gothic literature. Which is all to say, when I sat down to see Hokum in theaters this past week I was a little nervous. Was I going to be too scared to enjoy myself? Could I really appreciate a movie if it’s watched with my eyes half closed, flinching away?
Hokum follows a grumpy American writer Ohm Bauman (played meanly and hotly by Adam Scott) as he travels to Ireland to scatter his parents ashes and stays at a remote inn, where they had previously honeymooned. Irish fables, scares, and things that go bump in the night ensue.
The film builds out a visceral world – not just in capturing tactile elements like the shiny kitschy heart key of the honeymoon suite, the rough stone exterior of the inn, the residue of chalk crumbling on a hand – but in the way the building creaks and moans, the way it always feels like you’re half hearing a scream or a whisper in the dark corners of a room. The scares feel intimate and immediate. It’s spooky!
However, I’m also not sure I know what was going on. Yes, maybe that’s because I was too distracted by being scared to catch relevant plot information or understand the symbolism being conveyed. But I’m still not convinced the story actually had a cohesive central theme. There were many elements that seemed to just be layered on top of each other: Ohm’s unfinished novel, his tragic past, Irish folklore, the haunted inn. These all feel like interesting ingredients, ripe with potential, but they end up coming across like a salad dressing that’s separated: a pool of mustard lying beneath the vinegar and oil. I just wanted someone to get in there and whisk them together.
But these are things that only occurred to me after leaving the theater, walking into the warm twilight of a non-haunted street. Within the experience of watching, I was hooked: a freaked out tagalong on Ohm’s journey, fully immersed in the world, even when it didn’t necessarily make sense.
So, in the end, the answer is yes, I was scared but also yes, I did enjoy myself. It marks what feels like an important step in my horror journey: to like a film for the scares alone.
Each month I highlight an organization that’s important to me. I encourage people to check out the cool work they do, and also to find causes within their community to support as well.
Today I’m highlighting the Center for Asian American Media.
