Hokum Review:
Horror films are of multiple types, including psychological thrillers that take the shape of supernatural films and vice versa. The Babadook and The Sixth Sense are good examples of psychological thrillers with the look and feel of supernatural films. On the other hand, Bhoothakaalam and Hereditary start off as psychological dramas, only to peel back supernatural layers that leave the audience in a state of stupefaction. Writer-director Damian McCarthy’s Hokum offers an ingenious hybrid of supernatural horror and psychological thriller that scares and fascinates the audience in equal measure. The film blurs the lines between what constitutes reality and the imaginary with an intriguing story about a writer’s descent into a tragic chapter from his past. There is solid detailing, both visual and literal, in the latest directorial outing from the maker of Oddity that does not just merit a second viewing—the film demands it.
Hokum starts with Adam Scott’s novelist, Ohm Bauman, struggling to come to terms with the death of his parents and write the epilogue of his final book in his conquistador series. Seeking closure, Ohm decides to go to the hotel in Ireland where his late mother and father spent the happiest days of their lives. Ohm wants to lay their ashes under a tree there, but his Irish sojourn turns haunting and hypnotic as the mysteries of the place take over his subconscious. To reveal anything more would ruin a narrative designed to pull the rug out from beneath.
The biggest pleasure of watching Hokum lies in solving its puzzling story, involving Scott’s novelist, a mysterious man in the woods named Jerry (David Wilmot), and bartender Fiona (Florence Ordesh). Some of the staff members of the hotel believe that a witch lives in the honeymoon suite or the basement right below it. The pragmatic novelist dismisses the notion, attributing it to mere Irish myth. It is such a delight to figure out whether the story about the witch is real or figments of the staffers’ imagination, as Ohm goes in search of a missing hotel employee and Hokum takes him (and the audience) on a spellbinding ride.
Director: Damian McCarthy
Cast: Adam Scott, David Wilmot, Florence Ordesh, Peter Coonan
One of the most provocative theories of the film concerns the existence of dark forces. A character tells Ohm that demons exist; only, they become visible only when one is on a psychedelic high. Ohm laughs off the notion initially, but his belief is put to the test as he navigates the dark and claustrophobic nooks and corners of the hotel. The screenplay keeps the audience guessing as to whether it is only the odd characters that believe in the existence of the unknown, or whether this is part of the film's larger conceit.
Technically, Hokum is an absolute masterclass in gothic atmosphere. With the help of his cinematographer Colm Hogan and composer Joseph Bishara, director Damian McCarthy crafts an immersive film that keeps the audience waiting with bated breath in anticipation of the macabre that unfolds onscreen. It is commendable how inventively McCarthy uses traditional horror film tropes, such as a clock with an inbuilt figure that automatically rings a bell in the suite that can be heard at the front desk. Hogan's framing and Bishara’s score add to the tension and excitement before all hell breaks loose, literally and figuratively, in the film's terrifying final act.
Hokum is also a film that adheres to a strict ‘less is more’ principle, treating silence as its biggest weapon. While some of the ‘gotcha’ jump scares appear slightly derivative, the film earns the existential sense of dread and paranoia it steeps the characters in and rewards our patience with many unsettling moments.
Off the cast, Wilmot, Scott, and Peter Coonan deserve special mentions for embodying the traits of their characters perfectly. Wilmot maintains the mystery and dignity of his character throughout. Coonan serves as a chilling presence, raising the stakes and elevating Hokum beyond a standard haunted house thriller. As novelist Ohm, Scott makes everything palpable, including his conflicted feelings for his parents, his fear of the unknown, and his occasional contempt for the hotel staff. When Ohm goes through a hellhole, Scott acts as the force guiding the audience through its layers of subtext and mystery, allowing McCarthy to narrate the story with little to no expository hand-holding.
Undoubtedly, Hokum is rife with subtext. There is a hidden inner meaning behind virtually every other frame and dialogue, such as when Ohm sprinkles his parents’ ashes under a tree or as he drowns his sorrows in a bottle of alcohol. Even the story of a chalk has an intelligent payoff, as does that of a man and goat milk. The film also serves as a grief-stricken exploration of loss, guilt, and the inherited traumas of parenthood. It is quite simply the closest a modern horror film has come to flawless execution since William Friedkin’s The Exorcist.
Ohm begins his journey with arrogance and condescension. Hokum shows how this man comes of age, experiencing a spiritual reckoning as he confronts the demons—both the metaphorical ghosts of his past and the terrifyingly literal ones lingering in the dark.
