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[Fantastic Fest Review] Greed is Not Good In the Gorgeous ‘Tumbbad’

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Tumbbad Fantastic Fest Review

Indian horror cinema hasn’t made much of an impression on American audiences over the course of its history, but a film like Tumbbad should aid the process a bit. Tumbbad manages to be a fascinating look into Indian culture while using the universal theme of greed to make it relevant to anyone watching it, no matter their nationality. It is a beautifully shot and frequently chilling film that flew under the radar at this year’s Fantastic Fest and has emerged to be one of the festival’s strongest entries.

Tumbbad opens with some fairy tale theatre as the story of Hastar, the first-born child of the Goddess of Plenty, is recounted. At one time his mother’s favorite child, Hastar eventually attempted to steal his mother’s gold as well as her food. He obtained the gold, but the other gods attacked him when he went for the food. He nearly died, but his mother saved him on one condition: that he would never be worshipped and he would be forgotten forever. Hastar agreed, and went into hibernation in his mother’s womb. Eventually, the Rao family woke him up by making a shrine in his name in the village of Tumbbad. Ever since that day, God’s wrath has literally rained down on the village in the form of constant storms. Vinayek’s ancestors discovered a way to obtain the goal from Hastar by entering the goddess’ womb, which sits in the middle of the shrine that they built. Obtaining said gold, however, comes with the risk of being cursed for all eternity.

Spanning from the early part of the 20th century during the British Raj through India’s independence in 1947, Tumbbad follows Vinayek Rao (Sohum Shah), a self-proclaimed greedy bastard, from childhood to adulthood. The film observes him as his family’s greed for Hastar’s gold passes from generation to generation. The film is divided into three parts (a common theme at Fantastic Fest this year), with each part relaying a significant event in Vinayek’s life. Directing duties were also split into three parts, with Rahi Anil Barve, Anand Gandhi (credited as creative director) and Adesh Prasad (credited as co-director) each taking a turn behind the camera (whether they each directed one Part of the film or worked together throughout filming I am not sure).

While the story of Vinayek is compelling, it takes a back seat to the gorgeous cinematography, set design and makeup effects. The technical merits of Tumbbad are phenomenal across the board. Shot by Pankaj Kumar, the film is a wonder to behold. From the ravishing landscape shots to the sublimely creepy makeup work on Vinayek’s cursed grandmother (she made the mistake of getting nicked by Hastar during one of her ventures into the womb) and Hastar himself, the film looks great. The visual effects, courtesy of Sean Wheelan and Filmgate Films in Sweden, are exceptional (save for some wonky CGI used to animate Hastar’s facial features).

Tumbbad Review

The womb chamber deserves a paragraph to itself. You see, in order to get the gold coins that Hastar holds, Vinayek must lower himself into the goddess’ womb, a chamber that lies deep underground Hastar’s shrine. Lest you think the word “womb” is a metaphor here, fear not. The womb is a grotesque cavern walled with red flesh and houses Hastar. Hastar’s design calls to mind the creatures from The Descent, but he stands on his own as one of the more impressive movie monsters to grace our screens in recent years.

At 108 minutes, one can’t help but feel that the film could have benefitted from just 5 minutes being trimmed off of the runtime. The film falls victim to bloat in its second act, spending too much time with the drama that surfaces between Vinayek and his mistress. It’s a minor subplot that could have been cut and the film would have been all the better for it. It makes sense that the film is trying to hone in on the fact that Vinayek is a greedy bastard, both with money and his sexual exploits, but the point is already made by showing the risk he is taking by going into the womb.

On the surface, Tumbbad is a morality tale with some elements of horror sprinkled in, but rest assured that the scary parts of the film are scary. Vinayek’s cursed grandmother is a wonderfully creepy display of makeup effects and sound design (she is chained up in a room and has large metal nails protruding from her face to keep her quiet). Every sequence that takes place in the womb is sure to get your heart racing as well. The film gradually builds tension as it moves along, culminating in a final showdown with Hastar that is as frightening as it is soul-crushing. Most importantly, you care for Vinayek and his family, despite the multitude of poor decisions they make.

Tumbbad is one of the more pleasant surprises to come out of Fantastic Fest this year. With a compelling story of greed that spans more than 30 years, a memorable monster and some truly beautiful cinematography, Tumbbad is not to be missed.

Tumbbad had its U.S. Premiere at Fantastic Fest and will be distributed by Eros International. No U.S. release date has been set.

A journalist for Bloody Disgusting since 2015, Trace writes film reviews and editorials, as well as co-hosts Bloody Disgusting's Horror Queers podcast, which looks at horror films through a queer lens. He has since become dedicated to amplifying queer voices in the horror community, while also injecting his own personal flair into film discourse. Trace lives in Denver, CO with his husband and their two dogs. Find him on Twitter @TracedThurman

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‘Corpus’ Review: A Seductive Slow-Burn Erotic Thriller With a Supernatural Twist [Fantasia 2026]

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Corpus Review

Director Corrin Evans‘ sweaty, immersive voyage back to the ’90s deftly bypasses nostalgic pastiche thanks to strong form and vision in his feature debut, Corpus. Evocative of 1998’s High Art in indie attitude, style, and themes, Corpus so effectively pulls you into its brooding vision of identity and intimacy that its supernatural elements become almost an afterthought in this slow-simmering psychological thriller.

Evans, who co-writes with Lily Cowles, opens Corpus with a discomforting attention grabber that sees a young woman, Wren (YellowjacketsNuha Jes Izman), put in an increasingly awkward, then disturbing position at a professional photo shoot. The scene abruptly cuts right at the cusp of sexual violence, setting in motion the overarching mystery that protagonist Sayo (Jeff Wahlberg) slowly discovers he’s been pulled into.

Corpus introduces Sayo as an aspiring photographer with an eye for composition, but one who scrapes by in New York City dealing drugs at nightclubs. His quiet routine gets upended with the return of Vince Marlowe (Brodie Townsend), a star on the rise and Sayo’s longtime crush. Vince convinces Sayo and their mutual pal Ross (Michael Vlamis) to accompany him to an exclusive party hosted by his affluent photographer friend Billie (Lily Cowles). Instead of a bustling gathering filled with prominent guests, though, Sayo is surprised to arrive at an isolated estate deep in the woods, with only Billie, Billie’s strange friend Cata (Ching Valdes-Aran), and Wren to greet them.

It’s the type of bait-and-switch that should set off warnings within Sayo, but his unresolved feelings for Vince override his sense of survival as the strange behaviors grow more sinister over the weekend.

Sayo’s loneliness becomes the epicenter for Evans’ sensual examination of modern relationships, intimacy, and gender norms. As such, Corpus favors slow simmering, sensual unease as Evans dials into the push and pull among its central relationships. More acutely, Sayo’s deep confusion takes center stage as he tries to navigate his perplexing dynamic with the object of his desire. Vince runs hot and cold. Flirtations and advances are sometimes encouraged, sometimes rejected. Not helping is the bizarre dynamic between Billie and her mysterious “friend” Cata. Or Wren’s new feral persona, a far cry from her timid opener.

Fixating so thoroughly on the intricacies of Sayo and Vince’s will-they-won’t-they adds meaty thematic depth, a haunting depiction of loneliness leaving someone vulnerable to different forms of manipulation. It’s here where Evans slowly, ever so slowly, layers in hints of horror. Sensuality and relationship drama take center stage, and while Evans’ strong grasp of form makes for a compelling watch that holds you firmly in its grip, its middle section is prone to pacing lulls. 

So much so that by the time Corpus is ready to reveal its sinister horror surprise, it feels almost too little too late. The disorienting nature of desire and intimacy gives way to a full-throttle home invasion that lays all intentions bare and finally unmasks its horror, but it comes in a frenzied rush that can’t wait to conclude Sayo’s erstwhile romantic pursuits. 

The restrained horror does frustrate in the wake of the film’s potent cold open, raising the expectation for a more energetic journey that never fully arrives, but what it lacks in supernatural scares it makes up for in style and atmosphere. Wahlberg makes for a complicated, sympathetic lead as the vulnerable romantic struggling to find his place in the world, let alone whether he’s destined for love or the friendship zone. The ’90s setting doesn’t just remove the pesky problem of smartphones when trouble arises; it lets Evans play with form and incorporate photography techniques that raise visual interest. Even the music adds rich texture. It all makes for a stylish debut with a strong voice at the helm, but it never pushes far enough into erotic thriller or horror territory to fully unsettle. 

Corpus made its premiere at the 2026 Fantasia International Film Festival. Release info TBD.

3.5 out of 5

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