FolknHell Podcast By Andrew Davidson Dave Houghton David Hall cover art

FolknHell

FolknHell

By: 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!

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Andrew Davidson, Dave Houghton, David Hall Art
Episodes
  • Frewaka

    Frewaka
    Mar 19 2026
    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 summaryFrewaka 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 takeawaysCompletely, 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 30Links and referencesIMDb: 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/FrewakaReferenced in this episode that you might want to look upSidheChangeling folkloreThe Wicker ManLord of MisruleSatorRabbit TrapPhilomenaEnjoyed this episode? Add your own score and comments for the film at https://www.folknhell.com/scoresFolknhell 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/scoresFind us on the socials:YouTube: @folknhellFacebook: FolknHellX: @FolknHellBluesky: FolknHellSee acast.com/privacy for info. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.
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    28 mins
  • Sator

    Sator
    Mar 5 2026

    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

    Enjoyed this episode? Follow FolknHell for fresh folk-horror deep dives. Leave us a rating, share your favourite nightmare, and join the cult on Instagram @FolknHell.


    Full transcripts, show notes folkandhell.com.

    Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.
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    38 mins
  • Bring Her Back

    Bring Her Back
    Feb 19 2026

    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

    Enjoyed this episode? Follow FolknHell for fresh folk-horror deep dives. Leave us a rating, share your favourite nightmare, and join the cult on Instagram @FolknHell.


    Full transcripts, show notes folkandhell.com.

    Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.
    Show more Show less
    41 mins
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