Reviews
[Review] “Creepshow” Season 3 Ends With Two Strong Tales of Dark Secrets
This week’s Creepshow offering, which is also the last of the season, features one segment about a prevailing problem that affects millions of Americans today. The other turns the color all the way down and tells a novel story coinciding with events from a classic horror movie.
The finale opens with Greg Nicotero’s “Drug Traffic”. Michael Rooker’s character, a U.S. customs agent and avowed communist named Beau, assists an American congressman, Evan Miller (Reid Scott), and his busload of constituents and colleagues after their return from Canada. The congressman is tackling healthcare issues at the moment; hence this trip across the border. Among the passengers is a mother and her sick daughter Mai (Mai Delape and Sarah Jon), whose withdrawal-like behavior grabs Beau’s attention. Meanwhile, Evan hopes to exploit this opportunity for his own political gain.
Mattie Do (director of The Long Walk) and Christopher Larsen’s story has all to do with the state of healthcare in the U.S. today. Between Mai’s desperate medical measures to the scathing portrait of a callous congressman who only covers the topic because it helps his career, “Drug Traffic” puts the American government on full blast. While the political commentary is blatant — Rooker and Reid’s characters literally sit down and talk about immigration and healthcare over beer — the writing concerning Mai and her mother is better handled. The episode’s strengths, aside from Nicotero’s impressive special effects for the menacing penanggalan monster seen here, exist in the quieter moments where silence and action say more than words.
In the next story, “A Dead Girl Named Sue”, a small town faces its own problems as a growing pandemic ensues everywhere. The year is 1968, and the undead have risen from their graves. The police of Monroeville County are doing their best to maintain order, but when a vigilante group puts a target on the mayor’s son’s head, Police Chief Foster (Christian Gonzalez) tells them to stand down. The man in question, Cliven Ridgeway (Josh Mikel), has wronged many of the town’s residents and gotten away with his crimes because of his family name. Foster initially protects Cliven because that is what he swore to do when he took the job. Yet the sight of something upsetting one night changes both the chief’s mind and the way this town now operates.
John Harrison and Heather Anne Campbell’s segment takes place in the world of George A. Romero’s Night of the Living Dead. Rather than repeating what the movie did, the story takes a look at how society has been affected during the zombie outbreak. Most other places have suspended all rules in light of everything going on, but Chief Foster insists his town is better than that. Of course his integrity is dissolved when he realizes the cold hard truth about justice in regards to people like Cliven; they see themselves above the law because of their privileges. From there Foster and the townspeople rebuild their community in accordance to this new outlook. “A Dead Girl Named Sue” aptly explores how society would react when the natural order of everything is forever upset.
Creepshow’s third season concludes with two cogent segments about dark secrets coming out. One is a barefaced tale about the consequences of government prioritizing money and self-interest over people’s health. The other speculates what might happen when the rules no longer apply and the idea of justice is redefined.
The entirety of Creepshow Season 3 can now be streamed on Shudder.
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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