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FolknHell
Tumbbad
Season 1, Ep. 3
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This time on FolknHell, Andy, David, and Dave take their first cinematic trip to India for the visually lush, rain-drenched folk horror tale Tumbbad — a film dripping with myth, greed, and muddy moral compromise. Set across three distinct time periods (starting in 1918), Tumbbad charts the generational consequences of disturbing a slumbering god called Hastar — a deity born from the womb of the Earth itself, cursed for his insatiable hunger for gold and grain.
From the outset, the trio are intrigued by the film’s opening premise: two boys, their fearful mother, and a mummified, flesh-eating grandmother chained in a rain-lashed house. She's more than just scenery-chewing horror — she's a symbolic custodian of a secret too powerful to ignore. As one of the boys (Vinyak) grows up, he inherits more than just the legend — he learns how to exploit it.
The podcast digs into how Tumbbad unfolds as a cursed treasure tale in three acts. Each chapter marks a shift: discovery, exploitation, and eventual inheritance. It’s a slow-burn saga of ambition and consequence, with each generation slipping further into moral decay. And yet, it’s the film’s atmosphere — perpetually soaked in rain and shadow — that captivates the team. As David Hall notes, “it’s like the locks and buildings go back 5,000 years,” a touch that lends the film a tangible, earthy mythology. Dave Houghton likens the treasure chamber to a Lovecraftian womb — grotesque, alive, and utterly compelling.
A key discussion point centres on the folklore itself. Is Hastar a ‘real’ myth from Indian tradition, or a modern invention? The team suspects the latter — but agree that its invented lore still speaks to deep-rooted, folkish fears: cursed wealth, intergenerational sin, and the risks of unearthing that which should stay buried.
Stylistically, Tumbbad impresses across the board. The trio praise the production design, use of colour (especially in the womb scenes), and practical effects. While Andy finds the first act a bit slow and overly long, all three hosts are in agreement that the film delivers richly on mood, world-building, and originality.
Is it folk horror? By the podcast’s own criteria — a threat localised to a community, of the environment, and from another time — the answer is a resounding yes. Hastar lives in the earth, only emerges when summoned with ritual dolls, and the curse is bound to the landscape of Tumbbad itself. As Dave notes, even if the deity isn’t ancient in mythological record, the film still channels the right vibes: a god of limitations, rooted in soil and secrecy.
The final score? A consensus 21/30 — solid sevens across the board. It’s a “low B” in their unofficial ranking system, but a high recommendation. The team wish more people could see Tumbbad easily, noting that the version they watched used fan-made subtitles, a hint at its frustrating lack of UK distribution.
Expect spoilers, references to The Mummy, Kenneth Williams, Monkey magic, and spirited discussion about whether multiple dolls create multiple gods (spoiler: they don’t). As always, the boys close with warmth, irreverence, and a hint that this mysterious Indian horror might just be one of their most memorable discoveries yet.
Folknhell is the folk horror podcast where Andy Davidson, Dave Houghton and David Hall dig into strange cinema, argue about whether it really counts as folk horror, and score every film out of 30.
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25. Hokum
50:09||Season 1, Ep. 25A remote hotel. A haunted honeymoon suite. A chalk circle that really should have been finished properly. Hokum gives us scares, screams and one very busy dumbwaiter, but does it give us folk horror?In this episode the FolknHell trio check into Hokum, Damien McCarthy’s 2026 horror about a cynical, suicidal writer retreating to a remote Irish inn to scatter his parents’ ashes, finish his book, and generally be horrible to almost everyone he meets. Before long, there are rumours of a witch, a locked honeymoon suite, a missing hotel worker, magic mushrooms, a terrifying cellar, and a plot that starts behaving like a locked-room mystery after several pints.The good news: the film is genuinely scary. Andy and Dave both found it tense, jumpy and effective in the cinema, while David admits it made him scream “like a lemon”. The bad news: the more they talk, the more Hokum starts to wobble. Om Bauman is hard to care about, the backstory arrives far too late, the police apparently cannot search a building properly, and the folk horror elements feel less woven in than nailed on.The big debate lands on whether Hokum is folk horror at all. There is an isolated setting, a witch, folklore, chalk protection and a buried basement, but the real threat is human panic, cowardice and Mel making every possible wrong decision.Final verdict: scary once, flawed on reflection, and probably folk horror adjacent rather than the real thing.Total FolknHell score: 15 out of 30.For more reviews, scores and discussions visit the FolknHell website
24. Kill List
41:03||Season 1, Ep. 24A hitman thriller that slowly mutates into something ancient, ritualistic and deeply disturbing. The more we watched Kill List, the less certain we became about what we were actually seeing.Ben Wheatley's Kill List has built a reputation as one of the most important British horror films of the 21st century, and after revisiting it the FolknHell crew found themselves just as fascinated, confused and impressed as ever.What begins as the story of two ex-soldiers turned contract killers gradually unfolds into something much stranger. Jay and Gal take on a lucrative assignment, only to discover a trail of ritualistic murders, grateful victims, occult symbols and a conspiracy that stretches far beyond a simple kill contract.The conversation explores the film's claustrophobic handheld style, its brutal realism, and its portrait of male alienation and trauma. Andy, Dave and David discuss how the film seems to reveal new layers on every viewing, yet somehow becomes more puzzling at the same time.Naturally, the big question is whether Kill List belongs in the folk horror canon. Despite its modern setting and lack of traditional folk horror imagery, the hosts ultimately conclude that its secretive cult, ritual sacrifice, ancient symbols and collision between modern life and older belief systems firmly earn it a place in the genre.The verdict? A rare moment of complete agreement. Andy, Dave and David all awarded the film 8/10, praising its ambition, rewatch value and willingness to leave audiences unsettled long after the credits roll.Enjoyed this episode? Add your own score and comments for the film at https://www.folknhell.com/scores
23. Night Ot The Demon
58:10||Season 1, Ep. 23Stone circles, satanic runes and one of the greatest horror performances in British cinema. Andy, Dave and David are joined by legendary horror author Ramsey Campbell to dig into Night of the Demon, a film that helped shape folk horror decades before the genre even had a label. The demon gets debated, the atmosphere gets worshipped, and scepticism does not fare especially well.This very special FolknHell episode with the legendary horror writer Ramsey Campbell joining the boys to talk about his all time favourite horror film, Jacques Tourneur’s Night of the Demon. Before getting to the film itself, the conversation detours through folk horror’s literary roots, The Hungry Moon, Arthur Machen, Lovecraft, Penda’s Fen, and why British landscapes still feel uniquely suited to supernatural dread.Once the film begins, things get gloriously obsessive. The hosts get stuck into the film’s extraordinary atmosphere, Ted Scaife’s cinematography, Ken Adam’s production design, and Neil McGinnis’ astonishing performance as Julian Carswell, a charming occultist who might genuinely have summoned something infernal. There is plenty of debate around the decision to show the demon so early, with David arguing it weakens Holden’s sceptical arc while Dave and Ramsey defend the dramatic irony it creates.The folk horror question turns out to be surprisingly complicated. By the FolknHell criteria, Night of the Demon only partially fits, yet everybody agrees it absolutely belongs in the canon. Ancient belief systems, witchcraft, isolated rituals, haunted landscapes and old forces bleeding into modern Britain are all over this thing. It may not sit comfortably inside the so called “Unholy Trinity”, but nobody here is arguing against its place at the table.The final scores land high. Dave and Andy both land on 9, while David comes in as the resident harsher marker with a 7.Final score: 25 out of 30
22. Men
41:30||Season 1, Ep. 22A country retreat should be peaceful. Unless every man you meet has the same face, the same blame, and eventually, rather more birth canal than anyone ever asked for!Alex Garland’s Men follows Harper, played by Jessie Buckley, as she retreats to a rural house after the violent death of her husband. What looks like a healing break quickly becomes an unnerving confrontation with grief, guilt and a village full of men, all played by Rory Kinnear, who seem to embody different shades of male threat, blame and entitlement.Andy, Dave and David are split on how well it works. David finds a lot to admire in the film’s attempt to explore trauma from a woman’s perspective, reading the house as Harper’s head and the male characters as psychological archetypes rather than literal villagers. Dave is intrigued but kept at arm’s length by the film’s allegorical style, feeling that the lack of reality also reduces the sense of jeopardy. Andy is the least convinced, praising the performances and visuals but finding the film heavy handed, especially once the final act starts birthing Rory Kinnears like a cursed Russian doll.On the folk horror question, the verdict is clear but nuanced. Men uses folk horror imagery beautifully, with the Green Man, fertility carvings, old houses, rural isolation and ancient symbolic weight all doing plenty of atmospheric work. But the hosts land on it being dressed in folk horror rather than truly being folk horror. The threat is not the land or the community. It is Harper’s trauma, guilt and the men in her head.Final score: 15 out of 30.
21. The Wicker Man
54:05||Season 1, Ep. 21Bright sunshine, folk songs and communal sex should not feel this menacing. The Wicker Man still manages the neat trick of looking almost cheerful while marching straight towards one of horror’s most unforgettable endings.A policeman, a pagan island, and one of the most famous endings in horror cinema. Andy, Dave and David head to Summerisle for The Wicker Man and get into its strange musical spell, its battle of belief systems, and the question of whether this is still the defining folk horror film or simply the most iconic.Andy finally gets to bring his favourite film to the table, which means The Wicker Man gets both passionate defence and a bit of healthy resistance. The conversation digs into the film’s odd balancing act as mystery, musical and folk horror landmark, with all three hosts agreeing that its horror is less about constant dread and more about the awful certainty of where it is heading.They get stuck into Sergeant Howie as a devout Christian outsider blundering into a community whose beliefs he cannot understand and cannot tolerate. That clash between rigid authority and pagan ritual becomes the heart of the discussion, alongside the film’s use of masks, fertility rites, sacrifice and isolation. There is also a lively debate over the old folk horror test: threat of the land, isolated community, ancient origins. David pushes back on just how ancient Summerisle’s traditions really are, while Andy and Dave argue that the film still absolutely earns its place as one of the genre’s founding texts.The mood swings between admiration, nerdy detail and a fair bit of filth, with talk of diegetic music, topiary penises, Brit Ekland’s famous not quite Brit Ekland scene, and the various cuts of the film. The final verdict is clear enough though. Whatever quibbles they have about age, pacing or how “horror” it really is, this is still folk horror royalty.Final score: 24.5 out of 30.
20. A Dark Song
43:35||Season 1, Ep. 20A house sealed in salt is already a bad sign. Spending a year inside it with grief, lies and ceremonial magic makes it worse. FolknHell tackles A Dark Song: grief, ritual magic, guardian angels, and whether this eerie occult chamber piece counts as folk horror.The film is Liam Gavin’s 2016 occult chamber piece about a grieving mother, Sophia, who hires the abrasive Henry Solomon to guide her through an elaborate ritual based on The Book of the Sacred Magic of Abramelin the Mage. What starts as a bid to speak to her dead child slowly reveals itself as something angrier, riskier and much more spiritually costly.“It gives you a peek at the architecture of the universe.”The conversation leans hard into what makes the film work so well. Andy, Dave and David love the stripped back set-up, the claustrophobic house, the drip feed of uncanny detail, and the way the film makes magic feel dangerous without ever tipping into anything daft. They spend plenty of time on the relationship between Sophia and Solomon, which shifts from mistrust and hostility into a bleak sort of dependence, with Catherine Walker and Steve Oram getting a lot of praise for carrying almost the whole film between them.“It’s not what she wants, but it is what she needs.”There is some debate over whether it fully fits the FolknHell folk horror test. It does not neatly match every rule, but the ancient ritual, total isolation, occult Christianity and growing sense of being trapped inside a logic you do not understand push it firmly into folk horror adjacent territory, before Andy finally plants his flag and calls it folk horror anyway.“A house sealed in salt and a ritual built on lies is never going to end well.”The big takeaway is that this is one of the highest rated films the hosts have covered so far. They single out the cigarette smoking appearance of Death, the astonishing guardian angel reveal, and the unexpectedly redemptive ending as moments that genuinely stick in the mind.Final score: 23 out of 30.Enjoyed this film too? Add your own score and comments for the film at https://www.folknhell.com/scoresAlso Referenced in this episodeThe Book of the Sacred Magic of Abramelin the MageHermetic Order of the Golden DawnAleister CrowleySamuel MacGregor MathersKabbalahHermesCandymanThe Wicker ManMidsommarJohn ConstantineClive Barker
19. In The Earth
38:08||Season 1, Ep. 19In this episode of FolknHell, we head into the fungal murk of In the Earth (2021), Ben Wheatley’s strange, abrasive, hallucinatory pandemic folk horror, where science, ritual, sound and landscape all start speaking the same unnerving language. What begins as a journey into the woods to assist with isolated research soon curdles into something far weirder: standing stones, old lore, mycelial networks, mutilation, feverish experiments, and the creeping suspicion that the land is not just alive, but listening.We dig into whether In the Earth is truly folk horror or something even stranger: a modern eco-mystical nightmare built from ancient anxieties and lockdown-era alienation. There is plenty here for FolknHell to get its teeth into: hostile landscape, buried folklore, a force rooted in the earth itself, and a growing sense that human beings are hopelessly unequipped to understand what they are poking.Along the way, we talk about the film’s unsettling COVID texture, its blend of psychedelic horror and elemental menace, and the clash between artistic ritual and scientific method as two equally untrustworthy ways of trying to commune with whatever is out there in the woods. We also get into the film’s standing stone imagery, fungal intelligence, the role of Alma as the overlooked guide and survivor, and whether Wheatley is giving us a folk horror film in full, or smuggling one in through the side door under cover of experimental horror.It is not a cosy watch, and it is not especially interested in holding your hand. But it is tense, grimly funny in places, full of memorable imagery, and unmistakably rooted in that FolknHell sweet spot where landscape, old fears and human arrogance meet.So is In the Earth folk horror? We think yes, emphatically, though perhaps in a less traditional form than wicker effigies and village rites. This is folk horror with spores in its lungs and noise in its skull.Expect spoilers, strong opinions, and a fair amount of sympathy for Joel Fry, who suffers more here than seems strictly necessary.Enter the woods with us.
18. Frewaka
28:27||Ep. 18Irish fairies, Catholic guilt and one extremely ominous red door. Frewaka is exactly the sort of film FolknHell should fall for, which made it all the more annoying when it kept wandering off into the mist with its own plot.Episode summaryFrewaka arrives wearing all the right clothes for folk horror. Remote Irish village. Fairy lore. Iron nailed up around the house. Bells in trees. Missing children. Family trauma. Village oddballs. A goat, naturally. It is thick with the sort of atmosphere that makes you sit up and think, right, here we go. And for a while, it really does feel like we are in safe, dread-soaked hands.Shoo, still reeling from her mother’s death, takes a care job with Peg, an elderly woman living in a lonely old house full of rules, warnings and the sense that something is very wrong just outside the frame. From there the film starts digging into changelings, inherited fear, buried history and old supernatural debts, all wrapped up in Irish folklore and religious unease. There is a lot here to admire. The imagery is strong, the mood is properly eerie, and when Frewaka lands on a creepy idea, it really lands.The trouble is that it also seems oddly determined not to explain itself until far too late. FolknHell spent a good chunk of the discussion trying to work out whether the film was being richly mysterious or just plain muddled. Peg appears to know absolutely everything and says almost nothing. Shoo strolls through moments that would send most people into the sea. And some of the film’s best ideas, especially the red door and the final procession, feel more haunting than satisfying.On the all important question, though, there was no real argument. This is folk horror. No hedging, no qualifiers, no “adjacent” nonsense. The ingredients are all there and they are properly baked in. The frustration is that a film this atmospheric, this folkloric and this loaded with unsettling promise should probably have hit harder. Dave was the most forgiving with a 6, while Andy and David both landed on 4, giving Frewaka a FolknHell total of 14 out of 30. A proper folk horror, then. Just one that leaves you doing a bit more admin than you might like.Key takeawaysCompletely, undeniably folk horror. No debate thereGorgeous eerie bits and folklore detail do a lot of the heavy liftingThe central mystery feels more tangled than clever by the endThat red door is doing award-worthy workThe final procession is exactly the sort of thing this film needed more ofFinal FolknHell score: 14 out of 30Links and referencesIMDb: https://www.imdb.com/title/tt27828550/?ref_=nv_sr_srsg_0_tt_8_nm_0_in_0_q_Fr%C3%A9wakaRotten Tomatoes: https://www.rottentomatoes.com/m/frewakaTMDb: https://www.themoviedb.org/search?language=en-GB&query=FrewakaWikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/FrewakaReferenced in this episode that you might want to look upSidheChangeling folkloreThe Wicker ManLord of MisruleSatorRabbit TrapPhilomenaEnjoyed this episode? Add your own score and comments for the film at https://www.folknhell.com/scores
17. Sator
38:28||Ep. 17Sator is what happens when you leave one filmmaker alone in the woods for seven years with a camera, a toolbox, and a grudge against comfort. Jordan Graham does practically everything here, including dragging planks up a mountain and building the actual cabin, which explains why the film feels less like a set and more like a place you should not be standing in after sundown.The plot is deliberately chewy and we all agree it is the sort of story that fully clicks after a couple of watches. Adam tries to isolate himself from the forest spirit Sator, but keeps coming back to Nonna’s tapes and automatic writing like it is a hotline to the thing itself. The family dynamic is grim, the dialogue is minimal, and the whole film runs on dread, creaks, and the awful feeling that the dark outside is slowly pushing its way in.Dave is in awe of how good it looks, especially for something essentially built by one person, and he calls out the atmosphere as “almost suffocating”. Andy leans into the film student energy and the big influences, with Tarkovsky creeping into the imagery and the format switching adding to that dream logic unease. David gets the chills from the soundscape, describing it as a constant videogame style warning siren that never stops chanting at you.We also spend a good chunk trying to untangle what the cult is, who is sacrificing who, and why the film underplays its biggest shocks so casually. The standout moment for all of us is the woman tied to the tree and what happens next, which lands like a punch precisely because the film refuses to make a big song and dance about it. Then we get distracted, as we always do, by the deer caller, instantly upgraded to the now canonical phrase: “a deer kazoo”.Folk horror verdict: triple tick. Isolated people, ancient woods, rotten rituals, and old beliefs refusing to die quietly. This one is proper horror, and we all agree watching it alone is a deeply questionable life choice. “If it doesn’t scare you, you’re not human.”FolknHell final score: 24 out of 30