Reviews
[TV Review] “AHS: 1984” Turns Up the Danger and Enlists the Night Stalker in “Mr. Jingles”
Things get more murderous at Camp Redwood as the counselors fight for their lives and past deeds must be confronted.
“Benjamin Richter has escaped. You may remember him as—”
“Mr. Jingles…”
American Horror Story: 1984 has already paid a ton of references, both visually and thematically, to John Carpenter’s Halloween. It’s a smart play when constructing a season of a horror show that’s an ode to slashers. The heart of the original Halloween was present during last week’s premiere, but the opening scene of “Mr. Jingles” feels much more reminiscent of Laurie Strode’s attitude in 2018’s sequel. Margaret Booth is presented with information about her past literally coming back to haunt her, but she’s surprisingly headstrong on the matter. “Mr. Jingles” is an episode that’s all about finding the strength to reclaim your life, stop living in fear, and being proactive about the future. It’s an episode about being ready for a fight instead of giving up in surrender. After all, “sometimes a shadow is just a shadow,” but other times it’s a burly, lumbering serial killer.
Margaret Booth is told that Benjamin Richter has escaped and is headed straight for Camp Redwood. When she refuses to do the only logical thing and cancel the opening of camp, the episode plays right into the unfeasible nature of the plots of slasher films. It’d make so much sense to just not open Camp Redwood for the summer, but Margaret’s rebellious attitude is oddly understandable when her past is taken into account. Camp Redwood opening its doors is surely going to endanger lives, but for Margaret it’d be more dangerous to just give up and hide in fear from Mr. Jingles. It almost seems like Margaret has been waiting for this reunion to happen and it’s exactly what’s necessary to help her finally move on.
Margaret’s compulsive behavior over how boys must be clean, let alone that their showering must operate on her schedule, is just some of her worrisome behavior that’s present in this episode. It’s certainly another check on the “Margaret Booth is a powder keg of pain that’s about to explode” list. There’s also a hint dropped that “Margaret Booth” died back in 1970 and that Leslie Grossman’s character may actually be another counselor from back then what stole Margaret’s identity.
Margaret’s hygiene habits are more representative of her own dysfunctions, but it’s also what pushes Camp Redwood’s counselors into danger. “Mr. Jingles” splits up the boys and the girls for most of this episode and Tim Minear’s script makes a point to embrace the stereotypes of each gender. The boys’ display of machismo as they roam the campground is juxtaposed with Montana’s playful attempt to start something romantic with Brooke. American Horror Story: 1984 faces a tricky challenge in this department. Obviously this show wants to welcome all of the goofy tropes and shortcomings that can make the horror genre so much fun. At the same time, AHS: 1984 still needs to create engaging characters and dialogue that can operate like stereotypes, but still have depth. The ‘80s backdrop affords them some leeway here and at the moment it’s all still in good fun, but it may be a problem six episodes in if these characters are still broad clichés.
To continue with the stereotypes, the biggest conflict that the male counselors face in this episode is the threat that Xavier’s past life as a junkie doing “gay for pay” pornography will come back to ruin him. In remarkably little time, Xavier buys back his own freedom as he sells out Trevor, but neither of them winds up on the chopping block. All of the major struggles in “Mr. Jingles” boil down to gender norms and characters’ sexuality being challenged. Blake’s blackmail attempt on Xavier is another moment that begins as pure ‘80s cheese and then quickly morphs into excessive ‘80s horror.
Even when the material is lackluster, this season remains a visual treat (and that amazing score!). The camera’s attempts to negotiate around bushes and sneak around the corners of the cabins not only look gorgeous, but they amplify the tension. On top of that, the season is nowhere near hitting diminishing returns as it pays tribute to classic camp slasher sequences, like getting stabbed through a peephole.

AHS: 1984 also doesn’t waste any time in regards to bringing other supernatural elements into this season. It’s only episode two and we’re dealing with the tortured ghosts of former Camp Redwood counselors. The whole sequence where Jonas’ lost soul continually gets murdered and resurrected is really well done and seriously creepy. And since ghosts are now officially in play, there’s always the chance that this season may eventually jump to the future and feature this entire cast as ghosts that try to warn Camp Redwood’s next generation.
This episode throws its characters into more immediate danger and the counselors are all aware that there’s at least one killer on the campgrounds. However, there are still many larger mysteries that continue to percolate in the background. “Mr. Jingles” certainly explores more of Brooke’s shell-shocked state. John J. Gray’s direction makes sure that every person’s gesture registers with Brooke and shows how paranoid she’s becoming. Her fellow counselors are already teasing her over her frail nature, but they might not be wrong to be suspicious of her. Karen, the chief of psychology from Red Meadows Asylum, references how Camp Redwood’s phone lines are unreachable, yet Brooke received a call.
Everything that Brooke experiences should perhaps not be taken at face value for now (she also makes a big deal out of how nobody ever believes her). Much like how this season is starting to prove with Margaret Booth that trauma can re-manifest in dangerous ways, there’s definitely more to Brooke’s story. On that note, another fundamental piece of Brooke’s life was revealed this week. In a series of events that’s much more upsetting than her encounter with the Night Stalker, Brooke’s fiancé tragically goes homicidal at their wedding. It’s a very brutal scene that helps illustrate just how much tragedy Brooke has experienced.
Elements of Brooke’s story may seem fabricated, but the entire episode seems to slip into lucid dream territory the further it goes on. It doesn’t seem feasible that Richard Ramirez would actually be at Camp Redwood, but the fact that Margaret interacts with him pretty much seals the deal that he’s not a figment of Brooke’s imagination. However, matters then get considerably more insane when Margaret brokers a deal with Ramirez and hires the Night Stalker as Camp Redwood’s personal security detail (and gives him a de facto therapy session). As insane as all of this sounds, turning Ramirez into a reluctant ally in a war against serial killers could hold a lot of potential. It’s the craziest thread that’s present so far this season. Also, Margaret and Richard are totally going to get their summer loving on, right?
“Mr. Jingles” doesn’t try to rock the boat and it very much feels like an extension of the previous episode. There’s not a whole lot that happens in terms of story, but the installment manages to keep things moving and make it feel exciting. It’s seriously impressive that “Mr. Jingles” is able to feature four murder set pieces (including a wedding massacre!) while not yet killing off any of the main cast. I was seriously concerned over how fatalities would play out this year, considering the size of the cast and the isolated nature of the season, but clearly that isn’t going to be an issue. Furthermore, “Mr. Jingles” is another satisfying episode that follows the season premiere’s example by taking its time and focusing more on atmosphere and fear than to always be pushing push plot twists up to 11. The characters are still broadly sketched and make the ill-informed decisions of a bunch of people in a horror film, but the creepy environment and carefully choreographed murders and scares are enough to make this worthwhile.
American Horror Story: 1984 may not be challenging, but it’s fun and it’s frightening, which is enough for now.

Movies
‘Recluse’ Review – Harrowing Haunted House Horror With Lots Of Skeletons In Its Closet [Tribeca 2026]
A haunted house story is tense, terrifying storytelling when it’s properly executed. There’s been a growing tendency in horror to blend together harrowing haunted house stories with traumatic homecomings. A family member’s illness or death triggers a return to something dark that was intentionally left behind. Recluse hits all the tropes that one expects to find in this type of horror film, yet it manages to push this story in a daring, disturbing new direction that uses sound as a superpower.
It’s a unique lens to experience a familiar story about family secrets, generational trauma, unresolved grief, and the importance of not just legacy, but preservation. It’s a hell of a directorial debut from Henry Chaisson that’s guaranteed to get under the audience’s skin as they’re dragged through this painful, toxic tale.
Recluse is a gothic haunted house story where an isolated audio engineer, Joan (Sasha Frolova), returns to her family’s estate to check in on her father after he suffers a terrible accident. Joan suddenly discovers something much more sinister that paints her family’s tragedies in a very different light. Chaisson’s debut functions as a fascinating companion piece to this year’s undertone, which does a lot of the same things.
These two films make for a fascinating case of parallel thinking that tackles comparable subject matter through a similar lens, albeit in a bigger, less claustrophobic story in Recluse’s case. In fact, it’s the perfect horror film for anyone who was let down by undertone and didn’t feel like it brought enough to the table. It’s a considerably more conventional horror film, but this isn’t meant to denigrate its high quality. Recluse may hit some familiar notes, but it’s a scary, well-crafted haunted house horror story that goes for the jugular.

A gripping mystery that involves the tragic, unresolved circumstances that surround Joan’s mother teases a chilling connection to the recent horrors that have afflicted her father. Joan desperately tries to put these pieces together and give her family some sense of grander peace before she’s pulled under and becomes another victim of this festering curse that’s systematically worked its way through the Wyatt family. By doing so, Recluse digs into some deeper commentary on collective trauma, a very literal look at the “sins of the father” adage, and how one selfish decision can ripple through generations and fracture off into different dilemmas. By the end, Recluse has brilliantly flipped the powerful concept of legacy on its head by illustrating the horrors and sense of entitlement that can be born out of this idea.
A legacy is just another name for a curse under the right context.
”Listen” is a simple but powerful command from Joan’s father that she briefly obsesses over. In a way, it becomes Recluse’s grander mission statement, whether it’s in response to Joan listening to the people in her life, the signals that her body and mind are telling her, or the world’s greater whims. It’s important to reconnect with these grounding pillars, especially when it feels like control is slipping away.
Recluse excels with how audio and soundscapes can create entire universes that are full of rich details that transport individuals to these environments. There’s also a level of objectivity when it comes to audio recordings and the evergreen permanence that they’re able to provide. Joan’s career as an audio engineer makes sense for someone who wants to cling to hard evidence and proof of existence. It provides great insight into Joan without ever getting lost in contrived exposition.
Joan’s entire life is built around audio engineering, and so it makes sense that Recluse features excellent sound design that really goes above and beyond with its production elements. All of the sound design is expertly handled and turns the film into something special. These auditory elements intuitively keep the audience on edge so that they’re more susceptible to the actual scares that eventually strike. The smallest sound effect gets turned into a crushing, cacophonous assault. It’s a really effective way to build terror. Writer/Director Chaisson also handles the film’s music, which achieves a sublime, unnerving dissonance that further heightens the free-floating anxiety.

The story at the center of Recluse is slightly generic in some respects, but the film’s visual language and tone make it feel distinctly memorable. It also doesn’t hurt that the home that Joan returns to is basically an eerie art studio that’s full of contorted paintings. Recluse never struggles to generate mounting dread and terror that pump through every scene. Powerful, thoughtful cinematography consistently reinforces the film’s themes. Joan is constantly reflected in different surfaces or viewed through mirrors. She’s also often confined to tight, constricting framing that all speaks to her refracted identity during this moment of loss and her attempts to regain agency and control by making sense of something that’s seemingly unexplainable.
Recluse is full of truly disturbing visuals that make it seem like Joan is lost in a dream that turns out to be an extended nightmare. It’s a surreal journey reminiscent of invasive psychological horror like Silent Hill, with a touch of Sinister and Hereditary thrown in for good measure. There are so many individual frames that could endlessly fuel urban legends and creepypastas.
It does a great job with how it presents Joan’s fragile state of mind, where chilling flashes of the past sneak up on her and unresolved trauma manifests into unsettling imagery. There are endless shots that are obscured in darkness, or shadow is creeping in from the corners of frames like a suffocating force of nature. It’s very rare that a scene is fully lit. It leads to a very lonely, isolating atmosphere that’s easy to get lost in.
Chaisson’s debut stands out from the many other high-minded haunted house horror films without succumbing to the same pretensions that often drag down these stories. It’s a grief-stricken character study that’s full of upsetting visuals that scratch at something visceral and raw. The horror elements connect, and the answers to its grander mystery provide an appropriate and believable sense of closure. Those who are looking for an atmospheric horror film that isn’t afraid to be different while still channeling something real will appreciate Recluse.
Recluse made its world premiere at Tribeca; release info TBD.


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