As a genre, horror constantly searches for new ways to make the ordinary scary. From the quaint suburbs of Halloween to a bright summer day in Midsommar to the children’s toys of Chucky and The Monkey, horror’s subversive creativity knows no bounds. In a field seeking that next normal thing to make ghastly, writer/director Damian McCarthy’s approach stands out. In opposition to many, his oeuvre seems to assert, “You know what’s really scary? …Scary stuff.”

Caveat. Oddity. And now Hokum. All delight in an ultra-stylized aesthetic that gets back to horror’s roots. We’re talking peeling wallpaper, dusty antiquities, and cobwebbed corners. McCarthy concerns himself much less with what looks real than what looks good, and yes, what looks scary. His films are like meticulously crafted haunted house attractions. A viewer might approach them with a smirk, confident they’re too tough for the artifice. But there’s McCarthy, just ahead, whispering your name to every scare actor behind your back. Telling them to put a little sauce on it. Just when you’re sure you’re too smart for it all, he’s found a way to get under your skin.

Hokum plays in familiar territory for McCarthy. Writer Ohm Bauman (Adam Scott) is finishing the final book in his conquistador trilogy, a harrowing epic full of violence and despair. To get the peace he needs to work, he revisits a quiet bed and breakfast in Ireland where his parents once honeymooned. There, he’ll scatter their ashes and wrap up his novel. The inn, on the other hand, has other plans. It possesses its own strange secrets, ready to distract the writer. They include a perpetually locked and bolted honeymoon suite that local legend holds has long imprisoned an evil witch.

When one inn worker goes missing, the suite goes unsearched. That’s too much for Bauman’s curiosity. He needs to satisfy that itch. Once inside, he’s haunted not only by the mystery and the ghosts of the inn’s past, but his own past and his parents’ tragic deaths.

As Bauman, Scott continues to shed the sweet dork image he cultivated on Parks and Rec by leaning into the character’s depression, distaste for human connection, and even cruelty. While not entirely against type for Scott—you can see shades of Mark S. from Severance, for instance—the extra bit of acid feels refreshing.

Besides Scott, Irish actors—many of whom have popped up in McCarthy’s work before—populate the cast. David Wilmot (Hamnet, Anna Karenina) proves a standout. His woodsy loner, Jerry, spends much of his time high on psychedelics. Of course, he’s also the only one who truly understands the supernatural horrors Bauman unleashes.

The setting and that Irish-to-American actor ratio immediately assert that, big Hollywood release or not, Carthy remains committed to his roots. To wit, he infuses Hokum with Irish folklore and mythology. Hares reappear to highlight the connection to the Otherworld, a land said to be populated by mystical gods, the dead, perhaps even the Cailleach, a hag witch who rules over the winter months. Unfortunately, McCarthy’s love of classic tropes and archetypes doesn’t play as well as his deployment of folklore. They give Hokum a slight air of predictability that holds it back from true greatness.

It’s also a little overstuffed. All the details for the characters’ backgrounds never totally gel in a way that feels natural. That means some scenes feel more like rapid-fire information overload than world-building.

The good news is that still leaves us with a solid as hell film. It feels destined to be a Halloween classic, popped on at slumber parties with shrieking friends. It’ll leave everyone with an image or two to haunt their nightmares. Perhaps only for an evening. Perhaps longer.

Hokum has all its scare actors at the ready for its arrival in cinemas May 1.

Hokum Trailer: