Reviews
‘In Our Blood’ Review – Found Footage-Style Format Limits Fresh Take on Well-Worn Subgenre
Oscar-nominated documentarian Pedro Kos (Rebel Hearts, Lead Me Home) approaches his narrative feature debut, In Our Blood, like a documentary. It’s even woven into the core fabric of the narrative, using the framework of filmmakers setting out to make a documentary to explore vulnerable communities through horror. While that ultimately means falling into the trappings of found footage-styled horror, Kos effectively gives a fresh update on a well-worn corner of the genre.
Filmmaker Emily Wyland (Brittany O’Grady) decides to make a documentary about her estranged mother, Sam (Alanna Ubach), when reuniting after ten years apart due to addiction. Emily enlists cinematographer Danny (E. J. Bonilla) to capture her intimate story, but the documentary’s purpose changes when Sam suddenly goes missing. In their search to find Sam and determine whether a relapse is to blame, Emily and Danny – with the help of local social worker Ana (Krisha Fairchild) – uncover sinister clues tied to her mother’s past that lead to hostile encounters and warnings to leave before it’s too late.
Kos, working from a script by Mallory Westfall, opens the film with a clip of blood-splattered Emily addressing the camera before rewinding the clock to the rosy-eyed start of Emily and Danny’s voyage into the dusty border town of Las Cruces. O’Grady earns easy sympathy for her reservations about her mother, bolstered by Ubach’s complicated and remorseful Sam. It’s also helped in the way she’s direct about her search for answers once Sam disappears. Though, Emily’s desperation to find Sam leaves her prone to recklessness, balanced by E.J. Bonilla’s more cautious and empathetic Danny. Where Emily’s past exposure to her mother’s addictions leaves her less easily rattled, Danny becomes an audience proxy as he comments from behind the camera with bewilderment, terror, and reason. The weirder and more dangerous things get, the more determined and brash Emily becomes, whereas Danny opts for safety and practical solutions.
The central search for Sam creates a slow-simmering build of tension as Emily and Danny venture into the underbelly of Las Cruces, looking for answers from unhoused communities, seedy bars, or local gangs. Kos’s desire to explore vulnerable communities abandoned and ignored by society and his delicate handling of recovering addicts give In Our Blood texture and depth. It also creates unique obstacles for Emily and Danny as these corners become more dangerous and threatening, with Danny breaking from convention by listening to his instincts. But the further entrenched Emily and Danny get, the more the found footage style format binds the story. Familiar tropes distract from meatier subtext and telegraph reveals too far in advance.
Just when it feels destined to coast into a predictable finish, In Our Blood comes alive. The climactic showdown comes with all the requisite answers and a few unexpected reveals that effectively reframe so much about the story that preceded it. So much so that frustrating character choices are forgiven; Kos ends the film on such a curious, thrilling note that you want an immediate follow-up. The horror here is of the slow-burn variety, relying heavily on the increasingly terrified leads to communicate the stakes. It’s unhelped by how closely Kos adheres to the format, down to its limitations. But Kos presents such a fascinating, flawed world anchored by a talented cast that it helps carry the familiar horror mystery to a satisfying finale.
In Our Blood made its world premiere at Fantasia. Release info TBD.
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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