Friday Night Frightfest

This week on Friday Night Frightfest, we are venturing into the wild, lawless frontier of public domain horror! When copyright protection expires on beloved childhood literature, indie filmmakers get to do the unthinkable: turn gentle storybook icons into bloodthirsty monsters. Today, we are analyzing two flagship entries from Jagged Edge Productions' infamous "Twisted Childhood Universe"—pairing the micro-budget viral sensation Winnie-the-Pooh: Blood and Honey (2023) with the high-octane creature-feature Bambi: The Reckoning (2025). Grab your honey pots and keep your head on a swivel—nostalgia has never been this lethal. Winnie-the-Pooh: Blood and Honey (2023) Written and directed by Rhys Frake-Waterfield, Winnie-the-Pooh: Blood and Honey capitalized on the 1926 A.A. Milne book entering the public domain to deliver a viral slasher spectacle. When a grown-up Christopher Robin leaves for college, his abandoned woodland companions—Pooh and Piglet—feel betrayed and starve during the winter. Reverting to feral, animalistic instincts, they swear off human speech, murder Eeyore for food, and vow vengeance against humanity. Years later, when Christopher returns to the Hundred Acre Wood with his fiancée alongside a group of university students renting a nearby cabin, Pooh and Piglet embark on a brutal, sledgehammer-and-machete rampage. Raw, absurd, and unapologetically schlocky, it sparked a global conversation about the future of iconic IP. Bambi: The Reckoning (2025) Directed by Dan Allen and produced by the Jagged Edge team, Bambi: The Reckoning takes Felix Salten’s classic 1923 coming-of-age story and mutates it into a vicious, revenge-driven creature feature. Following a tragic car accident in a remote forest, a mother (Roxanne McKee) and her young son find themselves trapped in the woods. But they aren't alone: the forest is stalked by a massive, mutated deer driven mad by grief and toxic contamination after a hunter killed its mother years prior. Trading traditional slasher masks for an unstoppable, rabid beast flipping cars and tearing through the trees, the film leans heavily into practical creature effects, dark action beats, and creature-feature mayhem. Join us as we dissect this wave of fairy-tale slasher cinema! We’ll discuss how viral internet hype translates into feature-length horror, comparing the scrappy, low-budget cabin carnage of Pooh to the creature-feature scale of Bambi. Spoilers start around 6:55.

This week on Friday Night Frightfest, we are concluding our journey through David Gordon Green’s blockbuster trilogy with a double feature covering its two most divisive, high-concept chapters! Rather than playing it safe, this era of the franchise pushed the mythos into unexpected, chaotic territory. We are pairing the relentless, blood-soaked mob violence of Halloween Kills (2021) with the polarizing, atmospheric character study Halloween Ends (2022). Grab your crowbars—Haddonfield is tearing itself apart. Halloween Kills (2021) Picking up mere seconds after the events of the 2018 film, Halloween Kills trades intimate stalk-and-slash tension for an all-out, chaotic war on the streets of Haddonfield. While Laurie Strode (Jamie Lee Curtis) recovers in the hospital, a mob of vengeful townspeople—led by legacy survivors like Tommy Doyle (Anthony Michael Hall)—unites under the rallying cry "Evil dies tonight!" As mass hysteria consumes the city, Michael Myers cuts an unrelenting, bone-crunching swath through everyone in his path. It’s an exceptionally brutal, high-body-count installment that explores how fear and paranoia can poison an entire community. Halloween Ends (2022) Four years later, the trilogy arrives at a surprising, meditative conclusion that subverts classic slasher expectations. Set in a traumatized post-Michael Haddonfield, the story shifts focus to Corey Cunningham (Rohan Campbell), a troubled young man outcast by the town following a tragic accident. As Corey forms a connection with Laurie's granddaughter Allyson (Andi Matichak), he crosses paths with an ailing Shape lurking in the sewers, igniting a dark transformation. Exploring themes of contagion, inherited trauma, and the nature of evil, the film builds toward a cathartic, final showdown between Laurie and Michael that brings an era of the franchise to a definitive close. Join us as we dissect these bold, unconventional entries in the Halloween saga! We’ll debate the stark contrast between the wild, frantic momentum of Kills and the slow-burn narrative risks of Ends, analyzing how both films attempted to redefine what a Halloween movie can be. Spoilers start around 5:45

This week on Friday Night Frightfest, we are heading back to Haddonfield, Illinois, to examine two wildly different approaches to continuing slasher royalty! Few horror icons have had their timelines rewritten, rebooted, and retconned as often as Michael Myers. We are pairing the notorious early-2000s reality-TV experiment Halloween: Resurrection (2002) with the blockbuster, timeline-cleansing direct sequel Halloween (2018). Grab your coveralls and mind the kitchen knives—it's time to see how the Shape adapted to two very different eras. Halloween: Resurrection (2002) Directed by Rick Rosenthal, Halloween: Resurrection embraced the dawn of the internet age and early-2000s reality television. The story follows a group of college students who win a contest to spend the night livestreaming from Michael Myers' abandoned childhood home for an online show hosted by an ambitious producer (Busta Rhymes). Equipped with head-mounted webcams, the participants think it’s all a staged publicity stunt—until the real Shape returns home to clear out the trespassers. Campy, fast-paced, and wildly characteristic of its era, it stands as a fascination capsule of early-2000s slasher tropes. Halloween (2018) Sixteen years later, director David Gordon Green and Blumhouse took a radically different approach by wiping the slate clean—ignoring every sequel after John Carpenter’s 1978 original. The film picks up forty years after that fateful Halloween night, with Laurie Strode (Jamie Lee Curtis) living as a heavily armed, traumatized recluse who has spent decades preparing for Michael’s inevitable escape from a maximum-security institution. When his prison transport crashes, Laurie must protect her daughter (Judy Greer) and granddaughter (Andi Matichak) in a fierce, multi-generational battle for survival. Brutal, grounded, and emotionally charged, it re-established Michael Myers as an unfeeling force of nature. Join us as we contrast these two radically different chapters in the Myers mythos! Spoilers start around 6:02.

This week on Friday Night Frightfest, we are diving headfirst back into the terrifying universe of writer-director Stephen Cognetti! The Hell House LLC series has quietly evolved from a sleeper found-footage hit into one of the most intricate modern horror mythologies. Today, we are analyzing how the franchise reinvented itself by exploring two connected chapters: the atmospheric standalone prequel Hell House LLC Origins: The Carmichael Manor (2023) and the epic lore-capping sequel Hell House LLC: Lineage (2025). Keep a close eye on the static—and whatever you do, don't look directly at the clown mannequins. Hell House LLC Origins: The Carmichael Manor (2023) Shifting the nightmare away from the Abaddon Hotel, Origins takes us to a remote estate in upstate New York with a dark history of its own. A pair of internet sleuths and a family member set up camp at the Carmichael Manor to investigate the mysterious unsolved deaths of a family back in the late 1980s. As they dig into old tapes and unearthed records, they quickly realize that the haunting inside the manor is tied directly to the origins of the sinister cult behind Abaddon. Utilizing brilliant spatial tension, eerie security camera feeds, and those deeply unsettling clown mannequins that seem to move when no one is looking, The Carmichael Manor proved that the franchise could deliver pure, skin-crawling scares outside its original setting. Hell House LLC: Lineage (2025) Building on the lore established in Carmichael Manor, Lineage brought the series full circle for an ambitious, multi-generational finale. The story centers on a survivor haunted by recurring nightmares and strange visions, who finds herself drawn back to the town of Abaddon to unravel the ultimate mystery of the cult's influence. Connecting the dots between the original Abaddon Hotel tragedy, the Carmichael family lineage, and the supernatural forces at play, the film expands the scale of the universe while keeping the raw, claustrophobic found-footage style fans love. Filled with chilling lingering shots, dark corridors, and shocking lore reveals, it serves as a terrifying, fitting culmination of the entire saga. Join us as we break down the evolution of the Hell House universe! We’ll discuss how Stephen Cognetti uses silence and static camera angles to build dread, comparing the isolated mystery of The Carmichael Manor with the sweeping narrative payoff of Lineage. Spoilers start around 9:20.

This week on Friday Night Frightfest, we are diving into the deeply unsettling, atmosphere-soaked mind of Irish horror auteur Damian McCarthy! McCarthy has quickly become one of the most exciting voices in modern horror. We are pairing his claustrophobic feature debut Caveat (2020) with his haunting folk-horror feature Hokum (2026). Keep your lights on—things are about to get deeply unnerving. Caveat (2020) Written and directed by McCarthy, Caveat is a masterclass in slow-burn, spatial dread. The story follows Isaac (Jonathan French), a man struggling with memory loss who accepts a strangely specific job: house-sit for a troubled young woman in an isolated, decaying home. The catch? Unexplained security measures strictly limit where he can walk inside the house. As Isaac explores his surroundings and stumbles across a series of unsettling oddities—including a eerie, drum-playing toy rabbit—he begins to realize that his host, and the house itself, are hiding sinister secrets. It’s a lean, inventive thriller that weaponizes physical restriction to build overwhelming tension. Hokum (2026) Stepping into a broader setting while keeping that signature eerie atmosphere, McCarthy’s Hokum shifts the terror to a quiet Irish countryside steeped in local legend. The film follows a skeptical American investigator (Adam Scott) who travels to a remote village to look into longstanding regional superstitions and dark local lore. What begins as an effort to separate fact from fiction quickly spirals as the town's unsettling atmosphere closes in on him. Atmospheric, paranoid, and layered with quiet dread, Hokum explores how thin the line really is between harmless myth and genuine terror. Join us as we break down Damian McCarthy’s distinct brand of storytelling! Spoilers start around 5:50.

This week on Friday Night Frightfest, our ultimate Evil Dead retrospective series reaches its devastating, blood-soaked climax! After surviving the cabin in the woods and journeying back to the Middle Ages, we are bringing the Necronomicon into modern, inhabited spaces. We’re pairing Lee Cronin’s terrifying high-rise nightmare, Evil Dead Rise (2023), with the franchise's newest installment that took the summer by storm, Sébastien Vaniček’s brutal Evil Dead Burn (2026). Lock the doors, stay away from the elevator, and whatever you do, don't trust your family. Evil Dead Rise (2023) Directed by Lee Cronin, Evil Dead Rise dragged the franchise kicking and screaming out of the woods and into a condemned, decaying Los Angeles apartment building. The story follows guitar tech Beth (Lily Sullivan), who visits her estranged older sister Ellie (Alyssa Sutherland) and Ellie’s three kids. When an earthquake exposes a hidden vault in the building's basement, they uncover a vinyl-record variant of the Naturom Demonto. Once played, the malevolent force possesses Ellie, transforming a loving mother into a terrifying, sadistic Deadite matriarch. Packed with horrific, wince-inducing set pieces—from cheese-grater violence to an elevator full of blood and a nightmare "Marauder" amalgam monster—Cronin delivered a claustrophobic, family-centric slasher that breathed terrifying new life into the brand. Evil Dead Burn (2026) Picking up the baton three years later, French director Sébastien Vaniček (Infested) brought a mean-spirited, New French Extremity edge to the saga with Evil Dead Burn (2026). Moving the terror to a secluded rural estate, the film follows Alice (Souheila Yacoub), a grieving widow seeking comfort with her late husband’s estranged family after his sudden death. When the ancient curse takes hold, her in-laws transform one by one into grotesque, fear-devouring Deadites—turning a tense family wake into a literal reunion from hell. Channeling a brutal, unrelenting pace, Vaniček trades campy quips for sheer, visceral intensity, showcasing some of the most wince-inducing practical kills and body horror the series has ever seen. Join us as we close out our Evil Dead series by dissecting how modern directors have successfully expanded the lore without Sam Raimi behind the camera. We’ll discuss how Rise weaponized maternal terror in a tight city apartment, versus how Burn brought a bleak, explosive aggression to the "toxic family" dynamic. Spoilers start around 7:05.

This week on Friday Night Frightfest, our multi-part Evil Dead franchise retrospective marches onward! After surviving the cabin in our last episode, we are taking a wildly divergent double-road trip: first, traveling back in time to the Middle Ages for fantasy-slapstick mayhem, and then leaping forward to 2013 for one of the most unapologetically violent, blood-soaked horror reboots ever committed to film. Grab your boomstick—we are pitting Army of Darkness (1992) against Fede Álvarez's Evil Dead (2013)! Army of Darkness (1992) Directed by Sam Raimi, Army of Darkness abandons the cabin setting almost entirely and leans full-tilt into Ray Harryhausen-style stop-motion fantasy adventure and screwball comedy. Swallowed by a time-vortex at the end of Evil Dead II, Ash Williams (Bruce Campbell) finds himself stranded in 1300 AD. To get back home, he must retrieve the Necronomicon Ex-Mortis—but in typical Ash fashion, he mispronounces the magic words ("Klaatu... Barada... N-necktie?") and accidentally unleashes an army of the dead led by his own skeletal doppelgänger, Evil Ash. Packed with endless iconic one-liners ("Hail to the king, baby"), battle-ready Oldsmobiles, and skeletal slapstick, this entry turned Ash into an immortal pop-culture icon. Evil Dead (2013) Twenty-one years later, director Fede Álvarez took on the seemingly impossible task of rebooting the franchise—and delivered a modern horror triumph. Stripping away the humor entirely, the 2013 reboot grounds the cabin nightmare in a gritty story of addiction and survival, following David (Shiloh Fernandez) and his friends as they gather in the woods to help his sister Mia (Jane Levy) cold-turkey through heroin withdrawal. When the Naturom Demonto is unearthed and read aloud, all hell breaks loose. Driven almost entirely by jaw-dropping practical effects, intense self-mutilation, and a legendary, torrential downpour of blood during the climax, Jane Levy’s Mia delivers a fierce, chainsaw-toting Final Girl performance that earned the respect of diehard fans worldwide. Join us as we explore two radically different directions for the Necronomicon legacy! We’ll break down how Sam Raimi transformed a low-budget horror story into a campy medieval epic, versus how Fede Álvarez proved that a franchise reboot could be terrifying, brutal, and deeply respectful of the source material. Spoilers start around 6:13.

This week on Friday Night Frightfest, we are heading deep into the Tennessee woods to kick off a brand-new multi-part retrospective series dedicated to the ultimate splatter-horror royalty! Over the next few episodes, we’ll be exploring the entire Evil Dead saga—from its scrappy, low-budget origins all the way to its modern reboots. To start our franchise journey, we’re pitting the raw, visceral terror of Sam Raimi’s original cabin-in-the-woods shocker, The Evil Dead (1981), against its legendary, laugh-out-loud slapstick horror-comedy follow-up, Evil Dead II (1987). Strap in as we track Bruce Campbell's transformation from a mild-mannered victim into the ultimate chainsaw-wielding anti-hero! The Evil Dead (1981) Crafted on a shoestring budget by a group of young, ambitious friends in the woods of Morristown, Tennessee, The Evil Dead remains one of the most relentlessly oppressive and innovative low-budget horror films ever made. Five college students arrive at an isolated cabin where they accidentally play a reel-to-reel recording of ancient Sumerian incantations from the Naturom Demonto (the Book of the Dead). What follows is an unhinged descent into graphic, demonic terror as the unseen Kandarian Demon possesses them one by one. Driven by Raimi's frantic "shaky-cam" cinematography, Tom Sullivan's nauseating practical gore effects, and a grim, unrelenting tone, this original nightmare set the benchmark for modern survival horror. Evil Dead II (1987) Six years later, armed with a bigger budget and a wildly anarchic vision, Sam Raimi returned to the cabin to invent a whole new subgenre. Part remake recap, part escalation, Evil Dead II hits the fast-forward button on the original's setup and throws Ash Williams (Bruce Campbell) into a hyper-violent, Three Stooges-style cartoon hallucination. Trapped in the cabin alone with possessed severed hands, laughing furniture, and Deadites lurking in the cellar, Ash loses his mind—and his hand—before strapping a chainsaw to his arm and rising as the "Groovy" action icon we know and love. It is a tour de force of physical comedy, buckets of multi-colored blood, and pure, joyful cinematic chaos. Join us as we dissect this foundational double feature and launch our dive into the Necronomicon lore! Spoilers start around 9:38

Lock your doors, turn down the lights, and grab a glass of whatever keeps your nerves steady—it is officially time for our Annual Year in Review! We’ve spent the last twelve months tracking the cinematic highs, the baffling lows, and the absolute bloodbaths that have graced both theater screens and streaming platforms. In this episode, we’ll be counting down our official top 10 and bottom 5 films of the entire year! What a wild, terrifying, and hilarious ride it has been! Grab your drinks, settle in, and get ready as we break down our absolute favorites (and our biggest disappointments) of the past year.

This week on Friday Night Frightfest, we are logging on and diving deep into the dark corners of internet-born folklore! Online urban legends—lovingly dubbed "creepypastas"—have officially conquered the silver screen, moving from text-based forums to major cinematic blockbusters. We are pairing Kane Parsons’ massive, record-breaking summer box office smash Backrooms (2026) with the indie lo-fi horror anthology, Creepypasta (2023). Dust off your old CRT monitors and mind the static—you never know what's lurking in the digital void. Backrooms (2026) Talk about a viral phenomenon making history. Directed by 21-year-old Kane Parsons in his feature-length directorial debut (expanding on his legendary YouTube found-footage universe) and distributed by A24, Backrooms is an absolute triumph of psychological and liminal space horror. The film stars Chiwetel Ejiofor as Clark, a struggling furniture store owner who discovers a terrifying, glitchy dimensional gateway in his basement that leads into an endless, yellow-wallpapered labyrinth. Alongside his therapist Mary (Renate Reinsve), they are hunted through the chaotic, disordered halls by a deeply unsettling entity known as "Pirate Clark" (played by the 7-foot-8 Robert Bobroczkyi). It is a gorgeous, suffocating masterpiece that proves internet lore can carry a massive theatrical narrative. Creepypasta (2023) To understand how we got to the big-budget heights of Backrooms, you have to look back at the indie anthology roots of the genre. Released on Screambox, Creepypasta utilizes a gritty, low-fi wrap-around story where an unnamed young man finds himself trapped inside an abandoned house. To figure out how he arrived, he is forced by a menacing presence to sift through a series of viral, dark-web videos. Comprising multiple short segments directed by various indie filmmakers, the movie evokes the early days of internet chain-letters, hidden analog signals, and creepy folklore. It’s a DIY tribute to the era of staying up way too late reading scary stories on message boards. Join us as we analyze the evolution of cyber urban legends. We’ll discuss how Backrooms successfully traded the typical "jump scare" formula for deep, existential dread and surrealist set designs, versus how Creepypasta serves as a raw, analog time capsule of online horror culture. Spoilers start around 7:07.