FolknHell

Andrew Davidson, Dave Houghton, David Hall
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FolknHell is the camp-fire you shouldn’t have wandered up to: a loud, spoiler-packed podcast where three unapologetic cine-goblins – host Andy Davidson and his horror-hungry pals David Hall & Dave Houghton, decide two things about every movie they watch: 1, is it folk-horror, and 2, is it worth your precious, blood-pumping time. Armed with nothing but “three mates, a microphone, and an unholy amount of spoilers” Intro-transcript the trio torch-walk through obscure European oddities, cult favourites and fresh nightmares you’ve never heard of, unpacking the myths, the monsters and the madness along the way. Their rule-of-three definition keeps every discussion razor-sharp: the threat must menace an isolated community, sprout from the land itself, and echo older, folkloric times. Each episode opens with a brisk plot rundown and spoiler warning, then erupts into forensic myth-picking, sound-design geekery and good-natured bickering before the lads slap down a score out of 30 (“the adding up is the hard part!") FolknHell is equal parts academic curiosity and pub-table cackling; you’ll learn about pan-European harvest demons and still snort ale through your nose. Dodging the obvious, and spotlighting films that beg for cult-classic status. Each conversation is an easy listen where no hot-take is safe from ridicule, and folklore jargon translated into plain English; no gate-keeping, just lots of laughs! Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

  1. Frewaka

    2D AGO

    Frewaka

    Irish fairies, Catholic guilt and one extremely ominous red door. Frewaka is exactly the sort of film FolknHell should fall for, which made it all the more annoying when it kept wandering off into the mist with its own plot. Episode summary Frewaka arrives wearing all the right clothes for folk horror. Remote Irish village. Fairy lore. Iron nailed up around the house. Bells in trees. Missing children. Family trauma. Village oddballs. A goat, naturally. It is thick with the sort of atmosphere that makes you sit up and think, right, here we go. And for a while, it really does feel like we are in safe, dread-soaked hands. Shoo, still reeling from her mother’s death, takes a care job with Peg, an elderly woman living in a lonely old house full of rules, warnings and the sense that something is very wrong just outside the frame. From there the film starts digging into changelings, inherited fear, buried history and old supernatural debts, all wrapped up in Irish folklore and religious unease. There is a lot here to admire. The imagery is strong, the mood is properly eerie, and when Frewaka lands on a creepy idea, it really lands. The trouble is that it also seems oddly determined not to explain itself until far too late. FolknHell spent a good chunk of the discussion trying to work out whether the film was being richly mysterious or just plain muddled. Peg appears to know absolutely everything and says almost nothing. Shoo strolls through moments that would send most people into the sea. And some of the film’s best ideas, especially the red door and the final procession, feel more haunting than satisfying. On the all important question, though, there was no real argument. This is folk horror. No hedging, no qualifiers, no “adjacent” nonsense. The ingredients are all there and they are properly baked in. The frustration is that a film this atmospheric, this folkloric and this loaded with unsettling promise should probably have hit harder. Dave was the most forgiving with a 6, while Andy and David both landed on 4, giving Frewaka a FolknHell total of 14 out of 30. A proper folk horror, then. Just one that leaves you doing a bit more admin than you might like. Key takeaways Completely, undeniably folk horror. No debate thereGorgeous eerie bits and folklore detail do a lot of the heavy liftingThe central mystery feels more tangled than clever by the endThat red door is doing award-worthy workThe final procession is exactly the sort of thing this film needed more ofFinal FolknHell score: 14 out of 30 Links and references IMDb: https://www.imdb.com/title/tt27828550/?ref_=nv_sr_srsg_0_tt_8_nm_0_in_0_q_Fr%C3%A9wakaRotten Tomatoes: https://www.rottentomatoes.com/m/frewakaTMDb: https://www.themoviedb.org/search?language=en-GB&query=FrewakaWikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frewaka Referenced in this episode that you might want to look up SidheChangeling folkloreThe Wicker ManLord of MisruleSatorRabbit TrapPhilomena Enjoyed this episode? Add your own score and comments for the film at https://www.folknhell.com/scores Folknhell is the folk horror podcast where Andy Davidson, Dave Houghton and David Hall dig into strange cinema, argue about whether it really counts as folk horror, and score every film out of 30. Add your own score and comments about the films at https://www.folknhell.com/scores Find us on the socials: YouTube: @folknhellFacebook: FolknHellX: @FolknHellBluesky: FolknHell See acast.com/privacy for info. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

    28 min
  2. Sator

    MAR 5

    Sator

    Sator is what happens when you leave one filmmaker alone in the woods for seven years with a camera, a toolbox, and a grudge against comfort. Jordan Graham does practically everything here, including dragging planks up a mountain and building the actual cabin, which explains why the film feels less like a set and more like a place you should not be standing in after sundown. The plot is deliberately chewy and we all agree it is the sort of story that fully clicks after a couple of watches. Adam tries to isolate himself from the forest spirit Sator, but keeps coming back to Nonna’s tapes and automatic writing like it is a hotline to the thing itself. The family dynamic is grim, the dialogue is minimal, and the whole film runs on dread, creaks, and the awful feeling that the dark outside is slowly pushing its way in. Dave is in awe of how good it looks, especially for something essentially built by one person, and he calls out the atmosphere as “almost suffocating”. Andy leans into the film student energy and the big influences, with Tarkovsky creeping into the imagery and the format switching adding to that dream logic unease. David gets the chills from the soundscape, describing it as a constant videogame style warning siren that never stops chanting at you. We also spend a good chunk trying to untangle what the cult is, who is sacrificing who, and why the film underplays its biggest shocks so casually. The standout moment for all of us is the woman tied to the tree and what happens next, which lands like a punch precisely because the film refuses to make a big song and dance about it. Then we get distracted, as we always do, by the deer caller, instantly upgraded to the now canonical phrase: “a deer kazoo”. Folk horror verdict: triple tick. Isolated people, ancient woods, rotten rituals, and old beliefs refusing to die quietly. This one is proper horror, and we all agree watching it alone is a deeply questionable life choice. “If it doesn’t scare you, you’re not human.” FolknHell final score: 24 out of 30 Folknhell is the folk horror podcast where Andy Davidson, Dave Houghton and David Hall dig into strange cinema, argue about whether it really counts as folk horror, and score every film out of 30. Add your own score and comments about the films at https://www.folknhell.com/scores Find us on the socials: YouTube: @folknhellFacebook: FolknHellX: @FolknHellBluesky: FolknHell See acast.com/privacy for info. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

    38 min
  3. Bring Her Back

    FEB 19

    Bring Her Back

    Grief turns feral, rituals turn bloody and nobody should watch this one alone. Bring Her Back drags folk horror into the present and bites hard. Bring Her Back unsettled us in a way that crept under the skin and refused to leave. This is not a jump scare merchant or a knowing wink horror. It is dread soaked, body horror heavy and emotionally cruel in exactly the right way. From the off, the film announces itself as something viciously controlled. A pair of recently orphaned siblings are placed into foster care with Laura, a softly spoken grief counsellor whose kindness curdles almost immediately. What follows is a slow tightening of the vice. Laura’s home is calm, ordered and deeply wrong. Her behaviour is precise, manipulative and chillingly plausible. As one of us put it, you feel gaslit alongside the characters. The horror is not just what happens, but how long it takes others to believe something is wrong. The film’s use of Piper’s blindness is handled with rare restraint. There are no cheap perspective tricks, no exploitative visuals. Instead, vulnerability becomes tension. We know something she does not and that knowledge becomes unbearable. When violence arrives, it does so brutally and without relief. Several scenes had us pausing the film, not out of boredom but self-preservation. Folk horror debate was inevitable. There is no village, no harvest festival, no ancient stones humming in a field. But there is ritual. There is tradition. There is an old belief system dragged into the present via grainy VHS tapes and desperate repetition. The cult is fragmented, the community absent, yet the ritual remains intact. That, for us, was enough. Sally Hawkins is extraordinary. Her performance balances warmth and monstrosity so well that you almost understand her until you absolutely cannot. The children are equally convincing, grounding the film emotionally so that when it turns savage, it hurts. As a pure horror experience, this is relentless. As folk horror, it stretches the boundaries but never snaps them. Whether you place it firmly in the genre or mark it as folk horror adjacent, Bring Her Back is a film that demands to be reckoned with and discussed preferably with someone else in the room. FolknHell final score: 21 out of 30 Folknhell is the folk horror podcast where Andy Davidson, Dave Houghton and David Hall dig into strange cinema, argue about whether it really counts as folk horror, and score every film out of 30. Add your own score and comments about the films at https://www.folknhell.com/scores Find us on the socials: YouTube: @folknhellFacebook: FolknHellX: @FolknHellBluesky: FolknHell See acast.com/privacy for info. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

    41 min
  4. Angel Heart

    FEB 5

    Angel Heart

    A noir detective chases a debt through voodoo, fate and the Devil himself. Stylish, slippery and oddly folky. Worth the descent. A humid nightmare of ceiling fans, cigarette smoke and moral rot, Angel Heart pulls FolknHell into unfamiliar territory and dares the trio to get snobbish. A private investigator heads south chasing a missing man and instead finds blood, ritual and a debt that can never be settled. The film leans hard into film noir with deep shadows, jazz soaked streets and a lead performance that carries the whole thing like a well worn coat. Mickey Rourke is magnetic as Harold Angel, moving through the story with a bruised naivety that both works and frustrates. Robert De Niro plays it cool and controlled, all immaculate fingernails and quiet menace, while the New Orleans setting brings voodoo iconography, Catholic dread and a sense of ritual that flirts with folk horror rather than fully embracing it. The conversation circles around atmosphere first. The hosts praise the cinematography, especially moments that feel almost monochrome until colour sneaks back in, and the way the film sustains mood for over an hour. Where it stumbles is in the final stretch. Revelations arrive thick and fast, sinister ideas are rushed through, and some motifs feel like they were meant to land harder than they do. That leads to the big question. Is Angel Heart folk horror. The film has old beliefs, ritual, black magic and a community that quietly resists the outsider. But it also flips the formula. The detective is the danger, not the villagers. For some that inversion makes it an intriguing edge case. For others the voodoo and community elements feel more like set dressing than driving forces. What everyone agrees on is that it is a fascinating watch. A Faustian story wrapped in noir clothing, elevated by performance and style, and let down slightly by missed opportunities for deeper dread. Not pure folk horror, but close enough to argue about over another drink. FolknHell final score: 20 out of 30 Folknhell is the folk horror podcast where Andy Davidson, Dave Houghton and David Hall dig into strange cinema, argue about whether it really counts as folk horror, and score every film out of 30. Add your own score and comments about the films at https://www.folknhell.com/scores Find us on the socials: YouTube: @folknhellFacebook: FolknHellX: @FolknHellBluesky: FolknHell See acast.com/privacy for info. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

    38 min
  5. Lord Of Misrule

    JAN 22

    Lord Of Misrule

    Lord of Misrule does not so much ease you into folk horror as shove your face straight into the maypole. From the opening moments it is corn dollies, pagan ornaments, horned skulls, chanting villagers and ominous festival prep. Within minutes we were all saying the same thing: “this thing is leaking folk horror out of its pores”. There is no slow burn here. It is folk horror turned up to eleven before anyone has had time to ask what day it is. The setup is classic. A newly arrived vicar and her family move to a remote English village just in time for the annual harvest festival. Bells ring, Morris men bash sticks, bonfires crackle, and the whole thing feels like a village fete that has quietly joined a cult. When the vicar’s daughter is chosen as the Harvest Angel and then disappears mid celebration, the film should snap into panic mode. Instead, the reaction is oddly muted. As we put it at the time, “this is concern, not dread”, and that lack of urgency hangs over the rest of the film like damp bunting. A lot of our frustration comes from how early everything is signposted. We know something is wrong almost immediately, and the film never really pretends otherwise. Unlike The Wicker Man, where discoveries unfold alongside the central character, here we are always ahead of the game. The villagers feel practised rather than secretive, the rituals rehearsed rather than inherited. The moment we kept coming back to was the Lord of Misrule silencing the crowd with a single strike of his staff. It looks impressive, but it also prompted the very FolknHell reaction of, “this feels less like tradition and more like a very well run rehearsal”. There are strong elements scattered throughout. The children are genuinely unsettling, the imagery often striking, and Ralph Ineson brings real weight and authority to his role. He hints at grief, belief, and something deeply personal beneath the mask. Unfortunately, the script rarely gives him or anyone else the space to explore why they believe in this ritual beyond the fact that the plot demands it. Several characters feel underwritten, especially the husband, who mostly exists to look baffled until things are already on fire. Exposition replaces investigation, and key revelations are explained rather than uncovered. By the final act, Lord of Misrule commits fully to its folk horror identity. Old gods, sacrifice, and shifting power structures all come into play. It absolutely counts as folk horror, but it is folk horror by the book, with most of the answers written in bold on page one. As we summed it up round the table, “everything’s here, apart from the drama”. The FolknHell score lands at 16 out of 30, which feels about right. This is a watchable, decent effort with strong atmosphere and some memorable moments, but it lacks the restraint and mystery needed to truly get under the skin. Worth a look, unlikely to haunt you, and a reminder that sometimes a harvest festival is far creepier when it looks normal first. Folknhell is the folk horror podcast where Andy Davidson, Dave Houghton and David Hall dig into strange cinema, argue about whether it really counts as folk horror, and score every film out of 30. Add your own score and comments about the films at https://www.folknhell.com/scores Find us on the socials: YouTube: @folknhellFacebook: FolknHellX: @FolknHellBluesky: FolknHell See acast.com/privacy for info. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

    36 min
  6. Witchfinder General

    12/18/2025

    Witchfinder General

    Witchfinder General finally gets its turn under the FolknHell microscope and immediately starts causing problems. It turns up with a big reputation a lot of baggage and the confidence of a film that has been told for decades that it belongs in the folk horror big leagues. The trouble is once you actually sit down and watch it that claim starts wobbling almost immediately. The set up is simple and relentlessly grim. Matthew Hopkins a self appointed witchfinder rides from village to village across East Anglia turning petty grudges fear and sexual repression into a very profitable little business. People accuse their neighbours not because they genuinely believe in witchcraft but because it is useful. Hopkins is not uncovering ancient evils or dark rituals. He is just a horrible man spotting an opportunity and taking it. This is where the argument really kicks off around the table. There is no sense of shared belief. No community bound together by folklore. No land that feels cursed or alive or pushing back. Compared with The Wicker Man or Blood on Satan’s Claw where belief itself becomes the monster Witchfinder General feels hollow. The countryside looks lovely but does absolutely nothing except provide somewhere for people to be tortured. That does not mean it is toothless. Far from it. This is a late 1960s British exploitation film and it is not shy about it. The violence is blunt nasty and often mean spirited. There are hangings burnings stabbings and a lot of deeply uncomfortable sexual menace. Watching it now feels less like being scared and more like being slowly worn down which depending on your mood may or may not be your idea of a good evening. Vincent Price is doing a lot of the heavy lifting. His accent belongs exclusively to Vincent Price and nobody else but his presence is undeniable. One of us was all in calling this one of his best performances. The other two were less convinced but still admitted that without him the whole thing would collapse in a heap of mud wigs and bad decisions. At one point the film gets described as a 15th century John Wick which is both surprisingly accurate and probably kinder than it deserves. Strip away the period trappings and what you have is a revenge story about abuse of power with no interest at all in the supernatural. Which brings us neatly back to the big question. Why does this keep getting called folk horror. By the time the scores were handed out the damage was done. A combined 12 out of 30 says it all. One FolknHeller respected the rawness and Price’s performance. The other two mostly wanted it to be over and were still baffled by its genre credentials. Witchfinder General is important. It is influential. It is also a slog and about as folk horror as a bloke in a big hat being awful to everyone he meets. Worth watching once for context and conversation. Just do not expect ancient gods cursed fields or anything lurking in the hedgerows apart from another reason to argue. Folknhell is the folk horror podcast where Andy Davidson, Dave Houghton and David Hall dig into strange cinema, argue about whether it really counts as folk horror, and score every film out of 30. Add your own score and comments about the films at https://www.folknhell.com/scores Find us on the socials: YouTube: @folknhellFacebook: FolknHellX: @FolknHellBluesky: FolknHell See acast.com/privacy for info. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

    35 min
  7. Exhuma

    12/04/2025

    Exhuma

    A wealthy Korean American family hires a team of spiritual specialists after their daughter starts screaming the house down thanks to a furious ancestor. Andy, Dave, and David follow the trail as the Scooby Doo crew of geomancers, shamans, and funeral whisperers are flown in to sort out the cursed feng shui. It begins simply enough. Move granddad to a nicer bit of land, make his afterlife more pleasant, try not to set anything on fire. Then they open the coffin and a snake with a woman’s head slides out. Things go downhill from there. Granddad turns out to be a collaborator from the Japanese occupation, buried on poisoned land, and very keen on terrorising his own descendants. His ghost pops up in mirrors, squeezes hearts, and generally behaves like the world’s worst patriarch. Once he is dealt with, the film cheerfully announces that there is an enormous coffin hidden underneath his grave. Of course there is. Inside is a giant samurai, pinned upright through the chest with a sword and absolutely not in the mood for reconciliation. From there it all escalates. Exploding pig sheds. Monks being flung about. A fireball streaking across the sky that looks suspiciously like Monkey from Monkey Magic. The shamans work overtime. The geomancer questions every life choice that led him here. And the three of us attempt to keep up with the folklore, the history, and the subtitles, which sometimes appear to have been written by a cheerful intern with Google Translate. The big argument comes when we try to decide if Exhuma counts as folk horror. Andy swears it does because the whole story is steeped in Korean folklore, national wounds, and the idea of land holding centuries of rage. Dave sees it more as a straight horror film with history glued on top. David goes in thinking it is folk horror, then changes his mind halfway through, then changes it again. Which is very on brand for David. What we do all agree on is that the Scooby Doo crew are brilliant. They feel like real people with real skills, not just exposition machines, and the film wisely keeps them alive. For a two and a quarter hour horror film, it rips along with barely a moment to breathe, and even when we have no idea what is happening we are having a great time. Exhuma shocked us with how spectacular it is. Massive in scale, rich in folklore, packed with ideas, and somehow still funny in places where it should not be. It also made ninety four million dollars and became the sixth biggest South Korean film ever, so clearly the rest of the world had as much fun as we did. A wild, baffling, folklore soaked ride that we happily dropped a score of twenty two out of thirty on Folknhell is the folk horror podcast where Andy Davidson, Dave Houghton and David Hall dig into strange cinema, argue about whether it really counts as folk horror, and score every film out of 30. Add your own score and comments about the films at https://www.folknhell.com/scores Find us on the socials: YouTube: @folknhellFacebook: FolknHellX: @FolknHellBluesky: FolknHell See acast.com/privacy for info. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

    39 min
  8. Enys Men

    11/20/2025

    Enys Men

    Mark Jenkin’s Enys Men gives the trio one of their most intricate puzzles yet, a film that marries Cornish landscape, ritual repetition, and fractured time into something hypnotic and quietly unsettling. Set on a remote stone island off the Cornish coast, the story follows an unnamed volunteer who spends her days observing a cluster of flowers, maintaining a failing generator, and dropping stones into an abandoned tin mine. Her routine appears simple, but the repetition reveals changes that cannot be explained by ordinary time. Lichen grows on the flowers at the same moment it begins to creep across the scar on her own body, a scar tied to a long buried trauma. The date is the first of May, the anniversary of a maritime tragedy that haunts both her and the island. The conversation explores how the film treats time as a fluid and circular force rather than a linear path. Ghostly miners, drowned sailors, children from a vanished school, and folk singers appear and disappear as if the past is pushing its way into the present. The group unpack how the film’s heavy grain, radio static, and repeated imagery create a sense of permanence that exceeds any human scale. Andy, who grew up near the filming locations, recognises home in the standing stones and cliff paths, deepening the discussion around place and memory. FolknHell consider the volunteer not simply as a character but as a living extension of the island itself. Her stillness, her red coat, her lack of dialogue, and her connection to both the stone and the earth below all imply that she is the vessel through which the island remembers its own history. Every ritual drop of a stone into the mine becomes an act that links present moments with the island’s centuries of labour, loss, and buried stories. The lichen on the flowers and on her body suggests a slow merging of human and landscape. When the question of folk horror arises, the boys find an unusually clear answer. The threat comes directly from the land. The isolated community exists in fragments of memory. The connection to an older world is woven into every frame. The horror is not found in monsters or sudden frights but in the overwhelming sense of an island that has existed far longer than any of the people who walk across it. This makes Enys Men a refined example of the genre, one that replaces shock with atmosphere and uses silence as its primary tool. The trio debate how the film rewards patience while offering very little in the way of conventional narrative comfort. For Dave it is demanding and at times opaque, though artistically compelling. David admires its depth but finds it less emotionally gripping on a second viewing. Andy is captivated by its artistry and by its deep roots in Cornish culture and geography. Their combined score of twenty five point five out of thirty reflects a film that is challenging, visually striking, and rich with ideas. It evokes isolation, the passage of time, and the eerie sense that the ground beneath your feet is alive with memory. Wikipedia: link IMBD: link Rotten Tomatos: link FolknHell: www.folknhell.com Folknhell is the folk horror podcast where Andy Davidson, Dave Houghton and David Hall dig into strange cinema, argue about whether it really counts as folk horror, and score every film out of 30. Add your own score and comments about the films at https://www.folknhell.com/scores Find us on the socials: YouTube: @folknhellFacebook: FolknHellX: @FolknHellBluesky: FolknHell See acast.com/privacy for info. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

    38 min
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About

FolknHell is the camp-fire you shouldn’t have wandered up to: a loud, spoiler-packed podcast where three unapologetic cine-goblins – host Andy Davidson and his horror-hungry pals David Hall & Dave Houghton, decide two things about every movie they watch: 1, is it folk-horror, and 2, is it worth your precious, blood-pumping time. Armed with nothing but “three mates, a microphone, and an unholy amount of spoilers” Intro-transcript the trio torch-walk through obscure European oddities, cult favourites and fresh nightmares you’ve never heard of, unpacking the myths, the monsters and the madness along the way. Their rule-of-three definition keeps every discussion razor-sharp: the threat must menace an isolated community, sprout from the land itself, and echo older, folkloric times. Each episode opens with a brisk plot rundown and spoiler warning, then erupts into forensic myth-picking, sound-design geekery and good-natured bickering before the lads slap down a score out of 30 (“the adding up is the hard part!") FolknHell is equal parts academic curiosity and pub-table cackling; you’ll learn about pan-European harvest demons and still snort ale through your nose. Dodging the obvious, and spotlighting films that beg for cult-classic status. Each conversation is an easy listen where no hot-take is safe from ridicule, and folklore jargon translated into plain English; no gate-keeping, just lots of laughs! Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Information

  • Creator
    Andrew Davidson, Dave Houghton, David Hall
  • Years Active
    2025 - 2026
  • Episodes
    19
  • Rating
    Explicit
  • Copyright
    © Andrew Davidson, Dave Houghton, David Hall
  • Show Website
    FolknHell