Kane Parsons’ *Backrooms* (2026) begins with a deceptively simple premise: a strange doorway appears in the basement of a furniture showroom, and from there, chaos ensues. The film’s initial setup is where it truly shines, blending found-footage aesthetics with polished Hollywood production to create an unsettling, immersive experience. It’s a genre-bending approach that recalls the atmospheric unease of *Skinamarink*, but with a more structured narrative foundation. Chiwetel Ejiofor and Renate Reinsve deliver strong, grounded performances, anchoring the film in emotional realism even as the world around them begins to unravel.

The first two acts of *Backrooms* are tense and intriguing, building dread through claustrophobic visuals and an increasing sense of disorientation. The horror doesn’t rely on jump scares but instead thrives on psychological unease and a pervasive feeling that something is deeply wrong with the fabric of reality. The film’s unique blend of documentary-style filming and traditional cinema creates a disorienting effect that works in its favor, making the audience feel like they’re uncovering secrets alongside the characters.

However, *Backrooms* suffers from a critical misstep in its third act. What begins as an engaging mystery becomes a confusing, poorly resolved climax that leaves audiences questioning what was even happening. The film’s ending feels like an admission of creative uncertainty, with Mark Duplass delivering a line so unconvincing it seems like the director and writers themselves didn’t have a clear vision for how the story should conclude. It’s a frustrating and unnecessary cop-out that undermines everything that came before.

Despite its shortcomings, *Backrooms* is worth watching if you enjoy genre experimentation and are willing to forgive a few narrative missteps. It has ambition, visual style, and a solid foundation that could have led to something truly haunting. Unfortunately, the film’s final act derails its own success, leaving fans of the first half wondering what might have been.

Rating: 6.5/10 A strong start with a disappointing finish — a haunting concept let down by poor execution in the end.

Film Details

Katie Dippold’s Widow’s Bay arrives as a refreshing departure from typical horror fare, weaving together elements of dark comedy, drama, and folk horror in a way that feels both unsettling and oddly charming. Set in a New England town where the local mayor is determined to transform the sleepy community into a tourist destination, the series immediately establishes an intriguing tension between progress and tradition, commerce and curse.

The show’s strength lies in its ability to balance multiple genres without losing focus. While the premise of a cursed town might seem like a tired trope, Dippold and her team approach it with enough wit and nuance to make it feel fresh. The first episode promises a compelling blend of mystery and humor, suggesting that the series will deliver on its intriguing setup without relying on cheap scares or over-the-top supernatural elements.

Matthew Rhys anchors the series with a performance that captures the complexity of a man caught between his civic duties and the town’s dark history. His portrayal of the mayor feels authentic, as he navigates the delicate balance between ambition and responsibility while confronting the very real consequences of his decisions. Supporting cast members including Stephen Root and Kate O’Flynn bring depth to their respective roles, creating a believable ensemble that makes the town’s inhabitants feel like real people rather than mere plot devices.

The series’ folk horror elements are particularly well-handled, with the curse serving as both a literal threat and a metaphor for the town’s troubled past. Rather than focusing on jump scares or gore, Widow’s Bay creates an atmosphere of unease that builds slowly but steadily. The cinematography, while not explicitly detailed, appears to favor a grounded, naturalistic approach that enhances the show’s realism and makes the supernatural elements all the more unsettling.

What sets Widow’s Bay apart is its willingness to explore themes of community, legacy, and the price of progress. The show doesn’t simply present a cursed town as a horror story; instead, it uses the supernatural elements to examine how people deal with difficult truths about their past and present circumstances. The dark comedy aspects provide necessary relief while never undermining the series’ more serious themes.

The series’ promise, as suggested by early reviews, is that it will maintain the quality of its first episode throughout its run. With a strong cast, thoughtful direction, and an intriguing premise, Widow’s Bay has the potential to become a standout entry in the horror genre, particularly for viewers who appreciate more nuanced storytelling over conventional scares.

Series Details

Joseph Sims-Dennett’s The Banished arrives with promise—folk horror set in the Australian wilderness, a premise that feels ripe for tension and dread. The film’s visuals are undeniably striking, with sweeping shots of isolated landscapes that emphasize isolation and unease. However, despite strong production elements, the story stumbles under its own weight.

The narrative structure is deeply problematic, jumping between timelines in a way that feels more like an artistic experiment than a coherent horror film. This approach, while ambitious, alienates viewers who are trying to follow the story. The pacing is erratic, and character development is sparse, leaving audiences disconnected from the protagonist’s plight.

What could have been a chilling exploration of fear and survival instead becomes a frustrating puzzle. While the film’s atmosphere is occasionally effective, it’s not enough to salvage a weak plot or unengaging characters. Fans of the genre will find little to love here, and even seasoned horror viewers may struggle to stay invested. A tighter script and clearer storytelling could have elevated this into something truly unsettling. As it stands, The Banished is a missed opportunity.

Film Details