Occult

Ginger Snaps (2000)

It’s worth pointing out additional examples of timely femme-centric horror, even as Stephen King’s Carrie gets renewed for a second season on Amazon. (“If you thought the prom was bad, wait’ll you see Graduation Night!”)

A classic of sorts, Ginger Snaps is required viewing for its low-budget ferocity in depicting the growing (growling?) pains of female adolescence as a time of bloody cravings and terrible transformation.

The adorably morbid Fitzgerald sisters are not among the teen elite at their high school. Ginger (Katherine Isabelle) and her kid sister Brigitte (Emily Perkins) enjoy creating artfully gruesome tableaux of suicides, but the rest of the curriculum ain’t their bag, preferring to sneak smokes instead of butting heads with classmates in field hockey.

While ignoring their physical education requirements, the Fitzgeralds stumble over the remains of a mutilated dog (trigger warning), one of several that’s been turning up in the community.

Upon further examination of the shredded pet, Ginger gets mauled by an animal predator that is in turn run over by local weed dealer Sam (Kris Lemche).

Ginger survives the attack and begins to change, becoming more aggressive in her appetites—with boys and blood.

She hits puberty and it hits back!

“I get this ache… And I thought it was for sex, but it’s to tear everything to fucking pieces,” she confesses to Brigitte.

The absolute loyalty and devotion between the sisters gives Ginger Snaps all the juice it needs to charge John Fawcett and Karen Walton’s script into remarkably moving creature horror with a strongly beating heart.

The Fitzgeralds share a dungeon bedroom and a mutual fascination with death and suicide. But when Ginger goes feral, shy sister Brigitte has to figure out how to contain a savage beast hellbent on destruction—with the assistance of local weed dealer Sam.

“Out by sixteen or dead on the scene, but together forever,” Ginger chants.

“United against life as we know it,” Brigitte answers.

Ginger and Brigitte return in two sequels. Let’s plan to revisit.

The Cycle (2026)

How’s this for a setup?

In The Cycle, dedicated forensic anthropologist Meg Garland (Deborah Ann Woll, from True Blood) is notified that her missing father’s body turns up at a grisly murder scene, 34 years after he abandoned his wife and young daughter.

That’s pretty weird. Even weirder is the condition of Daddy’s corpse, which reveals a ton of physical trauma including electrocution, bullet wounds, and an elongated neck from hanging. But no maggots or evidence of decomposition.

Writer-director Jordan Downey disguises his supernatural agenda with a solid foundation of police procedure, as Meg and Officer Ian Marks (Jeffrey Donovan) follow the clues to a series of videotapes left by Meg’s father (David Myers Gregory).

The tapes try to explain both his absence from the family as well as the nature of his “condition” that defies any reasonable explanation, but bears a strong resemblance to lycanthropy.

Downey introduces some fresh material into werewolf lore, such as the necessity of a living host to house the soul of the beast. The transformation effects are agonizingly on point, and the story and character development are well served and satisfying.

Meg’s devotion to research and experimentation are clearly at odds with her family’s dark history, but she maintains her wits and checks her work throughout, even in the uncharted wilderness of the full moon.

Like The X-Files at its creepy best, The Cycle gives equal consideration to science and myth, and how they each contribute to the making of a very real monster.

Thumbs up, four stars, and recommended for fans of lupine lunacy.

Lady In White (1988)

Are there any hidden treasure hunters out there?

If so, Lady In White is a contender. A wondrous small-town mystery that’s glowingly photographed, it looks and feels like a Disney YA feature, but with an undercurrent of real darkness that should be of interest to fans of Hitchcock and David Lynch alike.

Lukas Haas from Witness and Brick plays Frankie Scarlatti, an adorable tyke getting his Dracula costume in shape for Halloween 1962. The inquisitive boy lives in a Norman Rockwell-style New England community with his widower father Angelo (Alex Rocco), older brother Geno (Jason Presson), and comedy relief Italian grandparents.

We get a deep dive into Frankie’s psyche. He’s a burgeoning writer with a penchant for monsters, and also dealing with the recent death of his mother, as revealed by a macabre dream sequence.

A pair of asshole classmates lock Frankie in the school cloakroom for the night as a prank, leading to the lad witnessing the ghost of a young girl (Joelle Jacobi) being murdered ten years before!

Young Frankie now has a mystery to solve, especially after the ghost follows him home and he discovers that nine other unlucky local kids have been knocked off in recent history.

Lady In White effectively utilizes the eerie old Eddy Duchin song, “Did You Ever See a Dream Walking” as a recurring motif that provides a valuable clue to the killer’s identity.

Writer-director Frank LaLoggia received a measure of negative feedback for the overly campy and whimsical visual liberties he takes in Lady In White, but we must remember that the protagonist is a child, which is why some scenes are rendered with exaggerated magical details and others are captured through a darker lens of menacing shadows and fog.

Sheesh! Might as well send hate mail to Tim Burton and Terry Gilliam.

The film’s era references hope for the future, with President Kennedy in the White House, but it also foreshadows both the struggle for social justice, and a near-future assassination, when the school’s black janitor is circumstantially blamed for the murders, giving Frankie another compelling reason to track down the man responsible.

If he can just stay alive long enough.

Lady In White is definitely a unique specimen, an imaginative child’s vivid recollection, autumnal ghost story, murder mystery and domestic tragedy that moves with enough pace and purpose to secure everyone’s attention.

Manifest some gratitude for this humble seasonal offering.

Hokum (2026)

Looks like another winner from Irish horror auteur Damian McCarthy, as Hokum hits the same creep spots as his previous entries Caveat and Oddity, while flexing new creative muscles in a more ambitious project.

A less-than-lovable Adam Scott (Severance, Parks & Rec) portrays Ohm Bauman, a horror writer intent on scattering his parents’ ashes at a picturesque hotel somewhere in the wild Irish boondocks.

Bauman’s rudeness and sarcasm rubs the staff the wrong way, with the exception of Fiona (Florence Ordesh), a friendly bartender who informs the word famous author that the honeymoon suite is haunted by a witch.

After laughing off the tale as “hokum,” Bauman’s sensibilities take a dramatic turn after he’s over-served at the bar, reeling him, kicking and screaming, into a haunting murder mystery with multiple suspects—including a vengeful spirit that appears to be ensconced upstairs, restlessly ringing the bell for room service.

Like a mashup of A Christmas Carol and The Ghost and Mr. Chicken, there is a definite story arc here, with Bauman getting a taste of humility and forgiveness that ultimately may make him a better person and writer.

Writer-director Damian McCarthy literally keeps Bauman (and us) in the dark for most of Hokum, nervously exploring the halls and tunnels that permeate the inn like paranormal prairie dog runs.

Adam Scott is pitch-perfect as an unfeeling prick in desperate need of redemption, which can only be found in the darkest corners of his soul.

And if he finds it, will he know what to do?

I recommend you find out.

The Last Voyage of the Demeter (2023)

Dracula’s all-inclusive cruise to London doesn’t actually include the crew, but he paid for extra eats, so he’s entitled to certain liberties at mealtime.

Based on the Captain’s Log portion of Bram Stoker’s Dracula, director André Ovredal (The Autopsy of Jane Doe, Troll Hunter, Scary Stories To Tell in the Dark) pipes us aboard for The Last Voyage of the Demeter, as the good ship and its sturdy sailors transport mysterious crates of soil from the Black Sea to England, circa 1897.

Our protagonist Clemens (Corey Hawkins) is a Cambridge-educated black doctor who lands a high-paying job among the small crew of The Demeter, led by Captain Eliot (Liam Cunningham) and his able first, Wojchek (David Dastmalchian)

Clemens, an able hand with a keen mind, discovers a stowaway in the person of Anna (Aisling Franciosi), an anemic young girl boxed away in one of the crates of dirt and attempts to revive her using transfusions of his own blood.

Anna did not buy a ticket nor did she sneak onboard of her own accord. She was part of the cargo to feed a VIP guest in the hold. Needless to say the guest is not amused by her removal, and so begins a terror campaign against a rapidly shrinking squad of swabbies.

The crusty crew has no idea what they’re up against, and it’s only Clemens, the social outcast, that refuses to give in to fear and superstition, reasoning that if the thirsty creature can bleed, it can also die.

The Last Voyage of the Demeter does what it’s supposed to do—bring the darkness and ramp up the tension of being trapped at sea with an impossible predator breathing down your neck.

It’s not comforting, just ask Chief Brody. Can also be used in outer space!

The inability of the seamen to find the vampire during daylight hours is a troubling detail as is the accelerated transformation of Anna from feedbag to formidable fighter.

Even so, the winged vampire effects and indeed the creepy, creaky look and feel of this voyage of the damned are first-class all the way. Ovredal has us booked as reluctant passengers witnessing a terrible, unnatural nautical calamity.

Remember the old saying, “Worse things happen at sea?” It’s true.

Trigger Warning! Ship’s dog Huckleberry doesn’t make it.

Wind and Bone (2024)

The problem with Algonquin cannibal spirits is they never know wendigo.

In Wind and Bone, budget-conscious filmmakers Michael Tuthill and Kevin Troy drop us in the wild woods of West Virginia, where a carload of reasonably attractive campers decide to pick up Sierra (Julie Kashmanian), a reasonably attractive hitchhiker stranded in the middle of nowhere.

Lacking any sort of excuse, Sierra accepts an invitation from Alistair (Eric Henderson) to join his friends at a nearby cabin in the woods to celebrate a possible proposal from alpha dickhead, Jeff (Joshua Cody) to April (Alex Cody).

Along for the ride is Curtis (Guy Wellman), a Native American guide, who’s only there for seasonal work, and proves to be less than capable when the company is marked for destruction by a local legend that feeds on pain and misery

“I thought you were supposed to be an expert tracker,” Jeff growls.

“I’m from the Burbs, bro,” Curtis confesses.

Let the body count commence!

Only Sierra, the stranger in their midst seems to have the fortitude to fight back, as her newfound camping buddies succumb to a host of attacks by the creature itself, and each other under the wendigo’s malign influence.

Tuthill and Troy wisely elect to go with practical creature effects, pasting an elk-horn helmet on a handy stuntman as a reminder that there is, in fact, a monster on the loose. Periodically we hear it whispering in the trees.

Yes, West Virginia, there is a wendigo.

There are antlers all over the place in Wind and Bone, hanging from trees and peeping around the shrubbery. Thanks to the success of The Ritual, based on the Adam Nevill novel, antlers have become the ubiquitous symbol of folk horror, much like tentacles indicate the presence of Lovecraftian cosmic horror.

Wind and Bone is not nearly as good a movie as The Ritual, but it’s good enough for a fast folk horror fix.

Undertone (2026)

Curses! Foiled again!

The debut of Canadian filmmaker Ian Tuason, Undertone is unsettling entertainment that hopefully frightens everyone into not opening anonymous attachments to their email.

As it turns out there are much worse things than viruses out there and all the Norton Utilities in the world won’t fix them.

Evy (Nina Kiri) cohosts a paranormal podcast with her friend Justin (Adam DiMarco) while looking after her comatose mother (Michele Duquet) upstairs. Thus we have the key ingredients for a very creepy and crumbly cake and newcomer Ian Tuason gets it in the oven for a torturous slow bake.

Evy and Justin play a series of audio files throughout Undertone’s 94-minute runtime that get increasingly more disturbing, detailing a young couple’s entrapment by an Old Testament demon that preys on newborn children.

Isolated and on the outs with her boyfriend, Evy, a skeptic by nature, begins hearing strange things, her home seemingly infiltrated by the evil audio.

Tuason lets his camera wander freely around the house, occasionally keeping Evy in the frame at a watchful distance. She often turns and looks around, sensing another presence, but there’s no one there.

Filmed on a measly half-million dollar budget, Undertone isn’t popping with CGI or gallons of guts. It’s a slow burner that applies steady pressure, infecting protagonist and viewer equally with a subliminal menace, and it’s well worth your time.

Pro tip: If a recording of a demonic summoning comes up on your playlist, skip that track. Do not play it out loud especially if you have a ton of unresolved guilt issues, like Evy.

Nothing good will come of it.

Lee Cronin’s The Mummy (2026)

So where’s the mummy?

I can’t help but notice that anyone attempting to resurrect the mummy monster concept avoids the subject. Oh sure, we get Egyptian set dressing, maybe a fez or two from down Cairo way, but there are a distinct lack of bandaged baddies bringing undead justice from the tomb.

Lee Cronin’s The Mummy (not to be confused with Abbott & Costello Meet the Mummy) is an awkward mix of family drama and occult investigation with all the blood and guts you can eat thrown in at no extra charge.

The story is all over the map to the point where we can’t remember if they’re in Egypt or New Mexico. Oh well, both locales have sand and rocks aplenty.

While stationed in Cairo, TV reporter Charlie Cannon (Jack Raynor, who looks like Seth Rogan’s health-conscious cousin) loses track of his daughter Katie (Natalie Grace) after she’s spirited away by a mysterious woman (Hayat Kamille).

Eight years later, the Cannons are numbing through their shattered lives in Albuquerque, when they are notified that Katie has been found living in a basalt sarcophagus.

Kids today! Am I right?

With no fanfare or preparation, the mostly nonverbal Katie is re-homed with Charlie, his long-suffering wife, Larissa (Laia Costa), invisible son (Shylo Molina), and new daughter Maud (Billie Roy).

From a catatonic cocoon, a new Katie messily emerges, shedding layers of skin at every turn in order to reveal herself as … a possessed murderous child!

Thud.

Irish filmmaker Lee Cronin (Evil Dead Rise, The Hole in the Ground) takes way too long to tell the tale, and the occasional grisly scene or splashy murder is only a reminder that there’s still lots of movie to go, much of it painted in familiar Raimi Day colors.

It’s not all bad news, by any means. Lee Cronin’s The Mummy offers damn fine freaky details and artisan-level craft in its depiction of an ancient curse that just keeps getting grimmer and grosser.

I dare you to watch it and not say “ewww” at least once or twice.

At a running time of two hours and thirteen minutes, you’ll have ample opportunity to admire Cronin’s technique and taste level in creating a competent creature feature, even though we don’t know whether to call a cop or an exorcist.

But you know what? I still miss my Mummy.

Across the River (2013)

Reasons for not writing reviews:

Sometimes the words ain’t flowing. Try as I might, nothing comes to mind other than regret for wasting a day off on poor quality entertainment.

On other occasions I may surf until my hand cramps and end up watching nothing—none of the pithy descriptions inspiring even a tentative look.

Not to put too fine a point on it folks, but it can be a chore to find source material worthy of extended coherent thought.

So it’s been a minute or two. My sincere apologies.

Like a desperate angler, though, I’m happy to report I finally hooked a specimen that warrants further study, an eerie Italian curiosity called Across the River, written and directed by Lorenzo Bianchini.

Warning! Even for a slow-burner, this one is real pokey. My advice is to stick with it, because there are treasures to be uncovered, and Bianchini succeeds in capturing a number of creepy scenes.

Biologist Marco Contrada (Marco Marchese) is hunkered down in a remote forested area near the Slovenian border, gathering data about the nocturnal habits of wildlife.

Marco duly checks and repairs his trail cameras, making recorded observations along the way, and eventually succeeds in strapping a small camera to a captured fox.

Whilst tracking the fox, the curious scientist stumbles upon an abandoned village littered with the remains of gruesome animal kills that appear to be alarmingly recent.

Across the River is rock-solid on mood and atmosphere, as Marco, the clinical observer becomes the one being watched by a pair of malevolent beings.

Bianchini makes use of minimal color adjustments throughout, with darkness having the rich, impenetrable quality of a nightmare from a past that threatens to envelope the hapless scientist.

The inky black and white footage is broken up by splashes of red, both blood and viscera, as Bianchini blends horrible history with present peril into a limbo of the lost.

I want you to watch Across the River and revel in its cursed landscape. It’s a film that grinds slowly, but surely, on a memorable mission to mess with your mind.

Widow’s Bay (2026)

If you’re late to the game, Widow’s Bay has been picked up for a second season by Apple TV! Hooray!

Fright fans are flocking to Widow’s Bay and with good reason. It’s an all-you-can-eat buffet of small-town terrors that somehow walks the finest line between horror and comedy imaginable.

Even the choice of font used in the title (Horror Paperback?) smells authentic to my nose.

Matthew Rhys (The Americans) is inspirational as Tom Loftis, the beleaguered mayor of the titular island town that may well be the most heavily cursed real estate on the East Coast.

His job, trying to get the island’s populace to tone down the spook talk while entertaining prosperous tourists proves an impossible task, but a highly amusing one.

Loftis does his darndest to disavow and debunk the many, many legends that plague Widow’s Bay, but soon realizes he’s in over his head against witches, hags, ghosts, undead killers, haunted fog, and an entire town of charming eccentrics that seem to be better informed on occult matters than he is.

Tom’s trusty assistant Patricia (Kate O’Flynn, who steals scenes, left and right), survived a murderous rampage by local maniac the Boogeyman, while she was a teenager, but finds him back in her life as an adult.

Lonely Patricia feels guilt about the girls who died, wondering why she was spared. The learning of lessons and the potential for personal growth amidst the vivid nightmare scenarios gives Widow’s Bay an extra gear, as we cheer Patricia’s steely determination in dealing with an uncanny enemy.

The third pivotal character is Wyck (Stephen Root), a, crusty, but well-read fisherman with a head full of arcane knowledge, including harrowing details of the original curse that befell Widow’s Bay hundreds of years ago.

There are satchels of intriguing subplots in the mix, but the one that affects everyone is the matter of whether or not you were born on the island—and what happens to people who try to leave.

Widow’s Bay is a big bowl of mystery with enough ghoulish garnish to tickle the fancy of folks in search of their next quality horror hang.

Series creator Katie Dippold is a former Parks and Rec writer, and clearly has a knack for birthing oddball and outré citizens that somehow steal our hearts.

Looking forward to Season 2, but a rewatch of the first is recommended. Lots of stuff going on here.