Feature Presentation: Hokum
If a character says, "I don't believe," they're about to find out!
If you like horror movies where characters are haunted by ghosts of their past and actual ghosts, you’ve checked in at the right creepy Irish hotel!
My Rating: 4 out of 5 Behind Yous!
Cynical, lonely writer Ohm Bauman (Adam Scott) has completed his tragic novel. H0is work is complete, he travels to Ireland with his parents’ ashes to complete his final work: spreading their ashes and do away with his guilt once and for all. He can mutter “hokum” to local legend and witch-rich folklore all he likes, but Ohm soon learns his past isn’t the only thing haunting him… It’s ghosts. And witches!
“I have a few notes.”
Rating: 4 out of 5 Behind Yous!
Vibe: The Babadook meets The Blair Witch Project meets 1408
Life Themes: Letting Go, Depression, Isolation, Men and Emotions
Theology Themes: Ancient. Doubt. Old Testament. Prophecy
Film Themes: Drama, Horror, Feature Presentation
Best Line: “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there are some oddballs walking around this place.”
Mid- or Post-Credits Scene: No, go home.
Heads Up: There’s an attempted suicide scene and I write about it.
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Spoiler-Free Review:
My kind of horror movies have emotional depth, unsettling scares, and a bit of whimsy under two hours. Hokum delivers all three in 1 hour 47 minutes: I’m sold! Piercing imagery lurks around the corner, with a constant vibe of menace. Most every scare, from the slow burn to the quick jump, are well-earned from the quiet-too-quiet atmosphere.
I hadn’t heard of writer/director Damian McCarthy, and Hokum is strong enough that I’ll seek out his other films, Caveat and Oddity.
Signs and Wonders:
Hokum puts typically one-scene characters center stage. All the old standbys are fleshed out here: the earnest bellhop, the kind bartender, the helpful host, the sniveling right-hand man, the bizarre owner, the oddball local guy drinking moonshine and harvesting meat from murdered goats in the forest. All the basics!
Excellent lighting to convey the mood. It’s never too dark that you strain to see. Especially any lighting (or lack thereof) involving the dumbwaiter. I already wasn’t climbing into dumbwaiters. Now I really won’t. Unless I get a dumbwaiter sponsor.
The story unfolds naturally, and I appreciate that. Horror can overlook plot points to deliver the gore. Here, we get a grounded reason for Ohm to travel to Ireland, shares details about his novel with Fiona (Florence Odesh), returns to the quaint hotel, and rewrite his novel. It’s sophisticated, and lets the horror live in the story rather than squeezing precious plot droplets between hack-and-slash scene.
The lore is lovely. Cob’s tale (Brendan Conroy) about the Cailleach witch using hand-carved figurines brought a smile to my face, and the rest weaves together nicely that by the time the supernatural arises, I rolled with it.
Stumbling Blocks:
Adam Scott does two characters really well: smart and sweet or smart and snarky. Ohm is his smart and snarky at its best. However, it feels like it goes too far as characters really feel the burn. At one point I thought, um no, he would’ve been kicked out of the hotel in an instant for that, I don’t think so.
Though under two hours, it’s a touch too long. Lose a bit of the brilliant cinematography of inland Ireland and some repetitive scenes could stand a trim.
Spoiler-Filled Review:
A good horror movie makes you scared, then makes you smile. I got that time and again with this one.
Signs and Wonders:
I was caught up in Ohm’s life story as it unraveled. The tragic death of his mother, his involvement, encountering scary faces, and even scarier ones. These horrors are a trail from the past that threatens to drag him down and never let him back up. Yes, the weight of his guilt and yes, the depths of that witch-filled basement.
The Spanish conquistador bookends are superb. To see Ohm write a tragic ending, then describe it, get feedback on it, discover resolution his own tragedy, and then rewrite was an excellent journey.
MVP Shout-Out to David Wilmot who does heavy lifting as Jerry, the odd duck local turned odd duck ally. His story, drive, and ending give off excellent Scatman Crothers as Dick Halloran in The Shining vibes!
Stumbling Blocks:
How convenient that Mal (Peter Coonan) told Ohm that Fiona went missing. In real life, he could have easily avoided that and sent Ohm on his way before raising suspicions. Without this conceit of a moment, we don’t get Act II or Act III. It’s clunky.
While the role reversal works for who is naughty and who is nice with Mal and Fergal (Michael Patric), it’s odd that we don’t get much closer on Fergal. Or Cob, for that matter. Cob deserved a bookend just as much as Alby (Will O’Connell), though I smiled at Alby’s healing moment with the man who burned him earlier.
Previously, on R-Rated Movie Club…
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Reflection:
The film ends with a mix of ambiguity and answers. It’s tremendous fun to witness Ohm’s journey through the former to find just a few of the latter. Here are just three of the many questions asked by Hokum for Ohm and for us.
Hokum asks, what if there’s something bigger than ourselves?
Ohm’s cup runneth over with sardonic attitude. He not only doesn’t know how to engage people, he doesn’t want to, either. Ohm self-isolates in every way.
The hotel staff take a shining to him, despite his best efforts. When they share the local lore of the witch, he dismisses it as “hokum.” Ohm’s disbelief is his defense shield. Even his novel’s characters bow to his tragedy. Ohm says, “If I ever think I’m being chased by a witch, I will look for a psychiatrist, not a piece of chalk.” He has no idea what’s out there beyond his self-imposed blinders.
That is, until his tragedy is averted. Ohm tries to hang himself, but Fiona saves his life. Alive, Ohm has a new mission: connect with a person. To… apologize? Say thank you? Connect? Ohm returning to the hotel is his fragile display of vulnerability and appreciation. Connected with Fiona can bring both of them healing.
In 1 Kings 18-19, the prophet Elijah curates an elaborate demonstration of God’s power, much to the anger of the king. He flees to self-isolation, even crying out to God, “It is enough; now, O Lord, take away my life, for I am no better than my ancestors.” Instead of giving in to death, God provides life in the wilderness: food, drink, shelter. Elijah doesn’t find God in the wind or earthquake or fire, but in the still small voice. God says, I am with you, you have work to do.
God is with us in retreat from harm. God is with us in going back into healing.
Ohm said “hokum” to the stories and was ready to die, to fully sever from society. Belief grabbed him and threatened not to let go. God came not as earth or wind or fire but as Fiona and Alby and ambulances. Like Elijah, Ohm is provided new life. And he has work to do with it. Elijah isn’t the only prophet in the Bible who wanted to die (see also Jonah, Moses, and Jeremiah), nor is Ohm the only person who has wrestled in the darkest valleys. Gladly, all of us have a lot of good to do with God when we live.
When do you want to self-isolate from others? What brings you back? What’s the good work that you can still do in this beautiful, broken world?
Hokum asks, do children have to sacrifice for their parents?
Ohm lives with shame over his role in his mother’s death. He believed sacrificing himself would quiet that shame, but it would serve no one. It doesn’t bring back Mom, warm up Dad, or get a “Thank you” from Shame. There has to be a new way.
Two stories come to mind.
The prophet Ezekiel lives in exile (like Ohm’s self-imposed exile) after Babylon conquered his people. He writes of many visions to bring inspiration and assurance to the people. In chapter 18, Ezekiel writes that God declares, “A child shall not suffer for the iniquity of a parent.” The weight of his father’s alcoholic anger is a thumb on the shame scale already weighed down by Ohm’s involvement in his mother’s death. Carrying the burden of both drags him down to the dumbwaiter depths of the soul. It’s a brief line in a broad proclamation by God but it’s an important one, especially as God ends with, “I have no pleasure in the death of anyone. Turn, then, and live.”
The second story also involves generational trauma. Abraham is a prime example of obedience to God, following instructions to set out for a new land and start a family against impossible odds. It can be difficult to read in Genesis 22 that Abraham is not only instructed to sacrifice his son, Isaac, but he appears willing to do it. At the last moment, God intervenes. This isn’t what God wants. Others may think their “gods” demand human sacrifice, but God never has, never will. It’s a bold break from what people thought and dares to mend the God-humankind connection. Animal sacrifice was common in religion then, and Abraham offers a nearby ram as sacrifice instead.
Hokum bookends with the ending of Ohm’s book. A conquistador and boy finally find their hidden treasure, marked by a circle in the desert, but they cannot break open the bottle to get the map inside. Devoted to the treasure, the conquistador prepares to break the bottle over the boy’s head, a sad but necessary sacrifice. Ohm tells Fiona this ending is supposed to “challenge” the reader, which is “hokum” to her (and me!).
Reflecting on his journey, Ohm rewrites the ending. The conquistador hold the bottle over the boy’s head, ready to sacrifice him, and he cannot do it. He gives the bottle to the boy and tells him to break it on his head instead. The boy must sacrifice him for the treasure. But the boy refuses, throwing the bottle into the sand. The pair embrace, finding real treasure: new life. Whether they are father and son is not clear, but their connection has that vibe as two generations say “Hokum!” to adding to the trauma!
Where does the map bottle land? In the sand, right next to a ram’s skull that’s just perfect for a sacrificial smashing against the glass.
God provides a new way, a better way. Mercy, healing, and connection.
And when I saw this in the theater, it was all I could do to not yell out in recognition of the symbol and genuine cheer for Ohm’s growth.
I love good writing about movies and theology, so I’ll gladly add here that J.R. Forasteros also has an excellent take on the Abraham and Isaac imagery in Hokum with a true deep dive at “Holy Pop Culture, Batman!,” take a look.
Hokum asks, how do we let go of the past?
At the heart of this film is deciding where to look. Ohm’s entire life is looking back. So are many of his scenes. I mean, just think about how many times he looks behind him, looks up in front of him, looks around a corner, etc. I wish I’d kept track of how often he looks, looks, looks. What does he find? Dead bodies, haunting ghosts, scary images of his past.
Ohm is always only looking for what is lurking. If you live your life that way, you’ll only find what you’re looking for.
It’s left him lost and disconnected, literally and figuratively. The first time he meets Fiona, Ohm is looking for his hotel room. As a helpful staff person, she asks, “Are you lost?” As King Snappy of Snarksville, Ohm replies, “What does it look like?” As a human being deserving of respect, Fiona claps back. “Well, with that attitude, you can stay lost.” Ohm quickly apologizes and they hit it off. Their connection is brief, but it’s enough of a catalyst for Ohm’s soul-searching the rest of the film.
The most-famous story of not being able to resist the urge to look back may be Lot’s unnamed wife in Genesis 19. As she and her family flee a city set for destruction, she looks back after being told not to, and she became a pillar of salt. It’s bizarre yet haunting imagery. The text doesn’t explicitly state why she looked back — just like yet again the Bible doesn’t explicitly write out a woman’s name — but we get why. We have all looked back when what we should do is let go.
Ever spent time and energy catastrophizing? That only the worse can happen? Or fixating on nostalgia and what was lost that can never be regained? How about doomscrolling on your phone, swiping to the next outrageous clip again and again and again? It’s quite easy to spend time and energy into dismantling our own imagination that new life is possible.
The writer of Ecclesiastes is in this place, brutally crying out “Vanity of vanities! All is vanity!” as he recounts philosophy on grief, loss, mortality, futility, and utter exhaustion. But even this writing that hits basement-level despair can’t stay here. The writer lifts up connection. Shared meals, meaningful work, and that even the joy of fleeting joy is still joy. While Ecclesiastes suggests you cannot undo the past, you can anchor yourself in the present, and that can lead to a hopeful future.
Ohm sees ghosts. At the climax of the film, his ghost, who has always been with him, gives him instructions: “You can’t stay here.” Do they mean the physical basement? Yes. Do they mean the shame basement? Absolutely. Ohm whimpers, “It was an accident.” The ghost of Ohm’s past says let go. Move on.
And he does. Ohm goes from saying the one responsible for his mother’s death “should’ve been strung up” to attempting to sacrifice himself to new life. Much as Ecclesiastes says the past cannot be changed, you can change the future.
Where did I see it?
Horror movies aren’t just for October, they’re also for sneaking into the spring just before the summer blockbuster season. Horror fans aren’t seasonal; they come out for what looks good when it comes out. I caught a late show of Hokum at my local AMC using my A-List member status in a smaller, half-full theater. We were a responsive crowd, too, especially to the jump scares, always a plus. I will add, I walked in right as the lights went down, which means I spent the first three minutes of a movie about a haunted hotel in Ireland watching a Spanish conquistador and boy wander the desert while I wondered if I’d wandered into the wrong theater!
Where can you see it?
This movie was released theatrically on May 1, 2026 and will be available for digital purchase on Amazon Video and streaming on Hulu later in 2026.
If you like this, also try:
1408, Midsommar, The Shining, The Babadook, The Blair Witch Project
Fade out…
Shame says you have to sacrifice yourself. Shame is wrong. Guilt is a better teacher. You can grow from guilt. The real “hokum” is shame and isolation; the real magic is forgiveness and connection. You can find a new life that’s better than your haunting past. Just don’t go looking for it in a creepy basement only accessible by dumbwaiter!
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Your turn!
What did you think of Hokum, Dear Reader? God’s peace and good movies to you!