The Screening Room | 'Hokum' a bracing examination of guilt

The Screening Room | 'Hokum' a bracing examination of guilt



Teeming with atmosphere and driven by a compelling lead performance, Damien McCarthy’s “Hokum” is the kind of film that slowly gets under your skin, a deliberately paced shocker that gradually builds to a well-deserved catharsis for its main character.

In shooting in Ireland and using its folklore as its basis, the director’s intent is not to capture the country’s lush beauty but venture into the areas where ancient forces lurk that its inhabitants would rather not acknowledge. Denial is at the root of many of its characters’ problems, their inability to face their pasts or take responsibility for their indiscretions an invitation for a stark awakening.

It doesn’t take long to tell that Ohm Bauman (Adam Scott) is carrying an awful burden. Abrasive and rude, he suffers no fools, his behavior a defense to keep people at a distance. A successful author of a fantasy series, he’s traveled to Bilberry Woods Hotel in rural Ireland for a dual purpose — to finish his highly anticipated next novel and spread his parents’ ashes.

Seems the deceased couple spent their honeymoon there, a particular oak tree being a special spot for them that Bauman finds with little trouble. After completing his task, he stumbles upon Jerry (David Wilmot), a homeless man given to odd pronouncements that are dismissed by the locals but come to have deeper meaning for Bauman.

The hotel has its share of eccentrics. The manager, Mal (Peter Coonan), is always on edge, convinced the owner, his father-in-law, hates him. Fergal (Michael Patric) is a jack-of-all-trades who enjoys killing sheep with his crossbow, and Alby (Will O’Connell) is a rather clueless porter who juggles a variety of other jobs. Proprietor Cob (Brendan Conroy) has a mean streak he makes no effort to contain, while Fiona (Florence Ordesh) appears the most normal of the bunch but has her own secret.

They all play a part in Bauman’s redemption as he’s forced to come to terms with a deed from his past. This is done in the honeymoon suite, a supposedly haunted room he makes the mistake of entering. It’s to Scott and McCarthy’s credit that they’re able to sustain our interest during the final hour of the movie. Tempting narrative stagnation, most of the story takes place in this one location, yet McCarthy’s intriguing, layered plot and the actor’s compelling work keep the audience engaged throughout.

Kudos to production designer Til Frohlich and cinematographer Colm Hogan. Their efforts produce a genuinely disturbing and oppressive environment throughout, particularly during Bauman’s extended stay in the haunted room. Warm hues that are normally comforting become suffocating, while the close nature of the suite’s accoutrements convey the character’s sense of isolation to marvelous effect. This, along with McCarthy’s tight shots, make for an effectively claustrophobic environment.

Reflective surfaces play a key role in the film, Bauman encountering them again and again, his need to reflect on his past becoming apparent. His journey toward healing begins with his convincing himself he’s worthy of forgiveness, a notion he’s dismissed as just so much nonsense. All that occurs at the hotel forces him to come to terms with the guilt he carries, a process that can only begin with his acceptance of things he does not understand.

“Hokum” proves an effective metaphor for being open to that which is alien to us, a daring act that may lead to a better understanding of ourselves and the world around us.

For DVR alerts, film recommendations and movie news, follow Koplinski on Twitter (@ckoplinski). His email is chuckkoplinski@gmail.com.





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