Welcome to McCarthy’s indie republic
Damian McCarthy’s third film feels like a director throwing open all his doors at once — equal parts bravado, chaos, and weird charm. It’s not subtle, and it doesn’t try to be.
A movie that spills over
Hokum doesn’t gently carry you along. It gushes. Scenes, moods, and ideas tumble into each other until you’re left breathless and a little thrilled by the sheer amount of stuff happening on screen.
Scares that yank, sometimes too hard
The film seems allergic to calm. Quick shocks arrive often, and while some are deliciously effective, others interrupt a quietly creepy moment and feel, well, blunt. The result is tension that’s exciting but frequently on the verge of tipping into exhaustion.
Style, folklore and a playful edge
There’s a clear love of gothic trappings, classic ghost-story vibes, and a wink toward modern haunted-house tropes. It’s arty and a bit theatrical — McCarthy clearly wants to be noticed, and he mostly succeeds.
When restraint would’ve helped
Compared to quieter productions that rely on mood, nuance, and a dash of humor, this film piles everything in at once. Sometimes that collision of ideas is thrilling; other times it’s like someone shouting during a whispering contest.
Who this will charm
If you like being overwhelmed in a fun way — the cinematic equivalent of being swept downstream with a grin — you’ll find a lot to enjoy. If you prefer tidy plotting and slow-burn dread, this one might wear you out.
Bottom line
Hokum is messy, bold, and oddly magnetic: not a neat masterpiece but a wild, personality-heavy ride that’s worth a look if you don’t mind getting a little wet.