Scary Movies is back, and as one would expect, it boasts the kind of smart and often overlooked genre fare that make it a welcome addition to the New York film scene. The emphasis on filmmakers at, or near, the start of their careers is an extra bonus: here’s your chance to be transported by talents you probably haven't even heard of until now, which is kind of exciting. That said, the programming choices occasionally take chances, which is why the series title fits better than some alternatives—these films may not fall strictly under the “horror” umbrella, and in fact some may not evoke scares per se, but rather feelings of unease or awe (or a combination of both). So, what’s worth checking out? In addition to the must-see classic DAUGHTERS OF DARKNESS (1971), which screens on the final evening, here are some recommendations from the other nine films I’ve seen.
It Ends
“There’s not a bird on earth that could survive a human uppercut.”
After just a few minutes of experiencing IT ENDS on the big screen, it becomes clear why this is the opening night film. Assured, beguiling, and using sound in a way that can be described only as gorgeous, Alexander Ullom’s first feature promises to take you places even before it really gets on the road. Aided by the fine work of its talented young cast, Ullom’s script effortlessly succeeds where most horror flicks (cf. I KNOW WHAT YOU DID LAST SUMMER 2025) fail miserably: making us care about its friend group before anything remotely menacing takes place. There are no contrived character snapshots or forced interactions to convey likability—the film just lets us spend time with these engaging roadtrippers. Then, when the dread and terror kick in, we’re not only fully on board, but also enjoyed the time we spent getting there.
It's tempting to call the premise of IT ENDS “simple,” but “elegant” would be more accurate. Unabashedly wearing allegory both on its sleeve and in your face, the film manages that rare feat of working on a purely dramatic level as well. The script never sells out either dimension for the sake of the other. And the ending, which somehow manages to avoid predictability, feels utterly satisfying as it hits hard both thematically and emotionally.
The story also works because it nudges you to consider what you’d do in the characters’ situation, but does so in a way that feels fresh and invisible. In short, you’re never bored. Except, that is, during those moments when you’re supposed to brush up against boredom, and then Ullom pulls off the always tricky goal of conveying tedium without actually putting the audience to sleep. The friends’ small, creative acts of rebellion against boredom are, in fact, central to the horror—there’s a kind of psychological “gore” that, while it can’t be seen, can definitely be felt. Think of this film as high-stakes survival horror, but in breathtaking slow-mo. Or, if it helps, you can view IT ENDS as an ingenious mix of THE SOPRANOS “Pine Barrens” episode and Sartre’s No Exit... except that wouldn’t begin to describe how heartfelt and original it is.
Chain Reactions
Every once in a while, a doc on film comes along that not only expertly explores its topic, but also makes you fall in love with the medium all over again. A few years ago, we had a great example of this with Giuseppe Tornatore’s ENNIO, and now we’re graced with another in the form of Alexandre O. Philippe’s CHAIN REACTIONS. The director’s approach is straightforward yet highly effective. There’s no bouncing between the typical talking heads (i.e., academics and journalists/fans) as the production and reception of THE TEXAS CHAIN SAW MASSACRE are recounted in chronological order; instead, five creatives each provide an extended stand-alone segment that covers how they encountered Tobe Hooper’s masterwork and why it has meant so much to them. The result is that the audience is treated to a range of intriguing and self-contained lenses on the film as well as some nice insight into the subject’s own career and artistic credo, as is the case with Takashi Miike. To say that CHAIN REACTIONS is a must-see for genre fans would be putting it mildly.
Noise
Like the more highbrow RABBIT TRAP (see below), NOISE takes sound as its central motif. Here, though, we’re not talking sonic seduction as much as sonic assault, and this actually contributes to the strength of Kim Soo-jin’s exercise in urban paranoia. The constant barrage of mechanical, digital, and human squawks isn’t exactly pleasant, but that’s the point—it keeps us, like the characters, always a bit off-balance and disoriented. This in turn, when complemented by the twisty narrative, makes it difficult to pinpoint the true threat source for NOISE’s protagonist. Is it the most obvious possibility—the knife-wielding dude who regularly comes a-visiting? Or is it a paranormal entity... or a killer from the past we learn about in flashbacks... or the odd neighbor with the even odder daughter... or the self-righteous neighbor who’s blatantly antagonistic?
After a while we pick up on the overarching messaging: it’s the environment, stupid. More specifically, it’s all the living (and dying) on top of each other, the anomie of modern city life, and the artifice of “community.” In terms of such themes being played out in a residential apartment block in South Korea, well, we’ve seen that going back at least as far as BARKING DOGS DON’T BITE. So, is NOISE groundbreaking in its ideas or scares? Not really, but you probably won’t care. It’s an extremely well-executed piece of popcorn-y pulp—and sometimes that just hits the spot.
Rabbit Trap
This is a very guarded recommendation. While the sheer quality of the filmmaking is hard to match, either in this series or the genre overall, the place where writer-director Bryn Chainey ultimately takes us in not somewhere many of us would care to go. The mysterious stranger trope has been done countless times, not only in dramas and comedies, but in unsettling ways in examples of fantastic cinema ranging from BORGMAN to THE GODSEND. Chainey breathes new life into the premise by emphasizing natural sounds that are so uncanny that they may as well be unnatural. Yet after carefully and skillfully establishing the dynamic between the central couple and their respective attitudes toward the stranger, the script abandons all this psychological grounding and narrative tension in favor of a magical realism-meets-folk horror ending. While this may sound like a promising combo in theory, in practice things don’t quite come together. An apt comparison might be made to the conclusion of Alex Garland’s MEN, although the results here feel neither as cohesive nor as impactful. Still, if you have any interest at all in RABBIT TRAP, this is the way to see it—on a big screen accompanied by big speakers. Let it fully cast its spell on you before the film itself finally breaks it.
Jōhatsu
JŌHATSU is an engaging thriller of subtle power that provokes disquiet more than terror. For many, it will provide a more thoughtful experience than NOISE and a more rewarding one than RABBIT TRAP. In both style and substance, though, it is far more elusive if not downright elliptical—the title, meaning “evaporation,” provides a hint of this flavor. Yes, see it if you can; directors Lina Lužytė and Nerijus Milerius will participate in a Q&A at the screening, and perhaps they can help guide the audience through the mysteries of their artful film.
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