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Set in Ireland at The Bilberry Woods Hotel, HOKUM (2026) spins a yarn about an unlikable protagonist who visits the hotel to lay his parents’ ashes to rest. Ohm Bauman, an American novelist played by Adam Scott, is painted as a wealthy-but-unhappy writer who’s moved to visit the hotel his parents stayed at for their honeymoon. Shortly after arriving, Bauman overhears an old man named Cob (Brendan Conroy) warn two young kids about a Callieach who’ll cut off body parts as souvenirs and drag the boys in chains to the underworld.

What follows is a story that includes multiple character arcs, braiding the main-and-supporting cast’s problems together with supernatural threads. Though Bauman is the central figure in the film, the character keeps us grounded by dealing with his grief and the colorful hotel workers who have issues of their own.

HOKUM is distributed by Neon ^[2], an independent American film company established in 2017, and is now available to rent through video-on-demand or purchase.

***WARNING***SPOILERS BELOW***WARNING***SPOILERS BELOW***

One of the interesting things about HOKUM is that the movie is not, and should never be regarded as such, a story about a malevolent genius loci. The Bilberry Woods Hotel is not supernatural itself, like the kind of hotel (THE SHINING) or mansion (ROSE RED) that terrifies its visitors because it’s possessed or built on tainted land. Instead, it’s clear from the beginning of the movie that people–not ghosts or witches or demons–are always more interesting that we give them credit for. The employees keep secrets, make mistakes, and pursue their own agendas while obeying Cob, the owner, who believes he’s keeping the Cailleach at bay. From the very beginning of the movie, it isn’t clear whether she exists or not, just like the ghost of Bauman’s mother.

What I find so interesting about HOKUM is that the protagonist’s impetus for change has nothing to do with the act of scattering his parent’s ashes or his attempted suicide, but through his guilt after hotel worker Fiona (Florence Ordesh) discovers him. Recognizing the trauma he caused, Bauman becomes obsessed with finding her, only to discover she’s missing. This mystery is something he can’t let go of, and the novelist picks up the search touching upon the locked honeymoon suite no one is supposed to go into.

As the mystery unravels, it becomes increasingly clear McCarthy’s take on the supernatural is that it’s part of our waking reality at all times even if we can’t acknowledge it without a little help. This theme shines through the ghosts, culminating in the movie’s finale, while keeping us guessing. Small details–the clock in the locked honeymoon suite, the elevator, the diorama–aren’t just symbols, they’re warnings.

I found HOKUM to be atmospheric, grounded, and satisfying because of its emphasis on human failings and grief. Blending psychological elements with folk horror was an excellent choice, and made sense for all the characters involved. Though I do have a few nitpicks (e.g. more Cob, amplifying how broken Bauman is before his trip, etc.), those are minor in comparison to the rest of the film. By retaining a tight narrative, the story is so personal when we finally meet the Callieach we know which victims she’s targeted and why.

Filmed beautifully, with stellar performances by its tight casting, you might be surprised to learn HOKUM ^[3] was a low-budget film, only 5 million. Though this figure is comparative to modern folk horror movies like MIDSOMMAR ($9 Million) and LAMB ($5 Million) the production value doesn’t suffer for it. If anything, McCarthy’s emphasis on character arcs woven against a supernatural backdrop has benefited from the confines of filming small, predominantly in one location like THE OTHERS, using different cinematic framing and effects.

If you’re hoping for an atmospheric-but-tense movie check out HOKUM. Now available through video-on-demand platforms like Amazon Prime ^[1] and in physical media.







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