There’s a particular kind of cinematic “hokum” – the kind that promises something mystical, eerie, maybe even profound… but ultimately reveals itself as a collection of tricks without substance. Unfortunately, that’s where writer/director Damian McCarthy’s Hokum lands.
After Oddity, which I genuinely loved for its effective scares and lingering sense of dread (even if the logic occasionally wobbled), I was ready for McCarthy to solidify himself as a major voice in horror. Instead, Hokum feels like a step back into the slower, less impactful territory of his debut, Caveat, a film more interested in mood than momentum, and not always successfully.
Here, Adam Scott plays Ohm Bauman, a depressed, dryly sarcastic writer retreating to a remote Irish inn to scatter his parents’ ashes and (theoretically) finish the third book in his Conquistador trilogy. The inn, of course, has secrets, both earthly and supernatural, including a witch rumored to be locked inside a forbidden room known as the Honeymoon Suite. After fulfilling his obligation to his parents, Ohm returns to the inn with the intention of ending his life, only to be interrupted by a hotel worker named Fiona. When she mysteriously disappears, and a local acquaintance nudges him toward investigating that locked room, the film spirals into a collision of murder, spirits, guilt, and unraveling sanity.
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That all sounds rich with potential. The problem is, very little of it coheres.
For starters, the film is shot so dark that it often obscures the very things we’re supposed to be afraid of. Horror relies on tension and revelation, but when you can’t fully see what’s happening, the fear dissipates into frustration. Add to that a handful of uninspired jump scares – ones that feel lifted from a middle-tier studio horror playbook—and it starts to feel like the film is operating well below McCarthy’s capabilities.
There are intriguing elements scattered throughout: a bizarre children’s TV rabbit mascot delivering cryptic messages, dreamlike intrusions into Ohm’s psyche, and the heavy emotional residue of his mother’s death. But instead of weaving into something cohesive, they sit side by side, competing for attention without building toward anything meaningful. It’s a film packed with ideas. Too many, perhaps. And none of them fully land.
Adam Scott, though, is a welcome anchor. He brings his signature snark and grounded skepticism to the role, never once turning Ohm into a typical horror protagonist. He doesn’t scream, he questions. He doesn’t panic, he judges. For much of the film, he feels like the only sane person in a world of increasingly strange behavior. And while he does evolve as the story demands, Scott wisely keeps the transformation subtle, resisting the urge to go full melodrama.
The supporting cast is equally strong. David Wilmot’s Jerry, Peter Coonan’s quietly enigmatic desk clerk Mal, and Will O’Connell’s hapless bellhop Alby all add texture and personality, elevating material that doesn’t always deserve them.
Still, strong performances can only carry a film so far. Hokum never quite finds its footing. The scares feel overly familiar, the mythology underdeveloped, and the emotional throughline, particularly Ohm’s grief, never fully integrates with the supernatural elements. The result is a film that feels busy but hollow, atmospheric but not unsettling, ambitious but ultimately unsatisfying.
Which makes it all the more disappointing. After Oddity, McCarthy felt like a filmmaker on the rise. And with a strong marketing push and a prime pre-summer release slot, Hokum arrives with the promise of something elevated. But what it delivers is something far more ordinary: a standard genre exercise dressed up in moody lighting and good performances.
Truth be told, this may work for viewers who don’t watch much horror or who equate a certain indie-label sheen with depth. But for anyone hoping for something genuinely unnerving or original, Hokum ends up living up to its name for all the wrong reasons.
Hokum opens in theaters on May 1, 2026.
