The film Hokum arrives as a distinct entry in contemporary Irish horror, led by Adam Scott and directed by Damian McCarthy. Set at a remote hotel in Ireland, the story follows a celebrated writer who travels there to scatter his parents’ ashes and wrestle with both personal demons and eerie local lore. Distributed in the United States by Neon, the movie leans heavily on atmosphere, production design and well-timed shocks. The project is cinematic in its mood-first approach and deliberately resists neat explanations, choosing instead to build dread through setting and character detail.
At the center of the film is Ohm Bauman — a novelist finishing a problematic trilogy — who is introduced as abrasive, entitled and emotionally closed-off. The screenplay places him in a claustrophobic environment: a wedding suite that is locked and monitored, a mysterious bell that rings without clear cause, and tales of a witch and other folkloric terrors in the surrounding woods. Complementing these elements are eccentric locals, a missing hotel employee and recurring nightmare imagery that links back to Ohm’s childhood. Those narrative pieces create the scaffolding for a story that mixes psychological trauma with supernatural suggestion.
Performance and character work
Adam Scott gives a layered portrayal that allows Ohm to toggle between insufferable and unexpectedly sympathetic. Where early scenes present him as a true jerk — rude to staff, dismissive of kindness — the film gradually reveals emotional wounds that justify, if not excuse, his behavior. Supporting turns add texture: Florence Ordesh’s bartender Fiona functions as both a small mercy and a narrative catalyst when she disappears; David Wilmot plays Jerry, a bearded forest-dweller dispensing poitín, mushrooms and cryptic guidance; Brendan Conroy is the hotel’s watchful owner; Peter Coonan offers a memorable, disquieting take as Mal. These performances anchor the film’s human core amid the more surreal elements.
Ohm’s arc and revealed trauma
As the plot progresses, the screenplay peels back layers of Ohm’s history to explain why he reacts to the hotel’s oddities in such a brittle way. A youthful tragedy haunts him, and directors use flashbacks, a disturbing children’s TV host and a grotesque donkey-like figure to externalize his psychological wounds. The film treats those motifs as part of an internal haunting that intersects with external folklore: the personal and the mythological blur, making it difficult to determine whether the terror is all supernatural or also the product of a fractured mind. Scott’s performance sells the transition, turning a disagreeable protagonist into someone with a precarious chance at redemption.
Atmosphere, design and scares
Where Hokum truly excels is in crafting an oppressive, tactile world. The honeymoon suite — its antique fixtures, cramped dumbwaiter and unsettling decorations — becomes an almost sentient source of dread. McCarthy and his team milk the mechanics of the space for maximum tension, creating sequences that are as much about the dread of confinement as about jump scares. Folkloric bits such as chalk talismans, a rumored witch, and the occasional ringing service bell are used to sustain unease. The film’s soundscape and lighting choices emphasize texture over exposition, rewarding viewers who prefer mood to meticulously plotted scares.
Visual and auditory detail
The production design and sound design work in tandem to unsettle: creaks, distant cries and anachronistic children’s programming populate the aural landscape, while the visual palette favors muted, sorrowful tones punctuated by sudden jolts. Practical effects and confined set pieces — notably the descent into the locked suite — deliver visceral responses that linger. At times the movie dangles elements without fully explaining them, a deliberate strategy that will satisfy fans of ambiguity-driven horror while frustrating viewers who expect exhaustive answers.
Shortcomings and overall impression
Not everything in Hokum lands perfectly. A recurring subplot involving a conquistador theme feels tacked-on and reduces narrative cohesion at key moments, and the script’s foreshadowing can be heavy-handed, telegraphing plot devices that later resurface. The film’s final act also leans more toward conventional plotting and less toward the efficient, claustrophobic chills that defined earlier scenes. Even so, the movie’s strengths — a committed lead performance, evocative design and effective scares — make it a worthwhile entry for fans of contemporary folk-tinged horror. Hokum opens nationwide on May 1, 2026, and will likely provoke divided reactions precisely because it values mood over tidy solutions.
