Appendage (2023)

Appendage turns the private, gnawing voice of self-doubt into something you can see, hear, and fear—and that simple idea makes the movie feel wickedly fresh even when it’s being gloriously gross. Anna Zlokovic directs with a sly, darkly funny touch, letting the body horror land with squirm-inducing impact while still keeping the experience brisk and entertaining rather than punishing. Hadley Robinson gives Hannah a lived-in vulnerability you can root for, and the supporting cast (especially Emily Hampshire and Kausar Mohammed) adds bite and warmth as the story leans into its sharp allegory about anxiety and the monsters we feed. If you’re squeamish about fleshy, unsettling imagery or find mental-health themes too close to the bone, it may not be your night—but if you like horror that’s smart, strange, and a little mean in the best way, this one’s a treat.

Appendage is clearly trying to turn anxiety and self-loathing into literal body horror, and the idea has real bite when it leans into that uncomfortable, personal metaphor. The problem is the execution can feel blunt and on-the-nose, with pacing that drifts and a horror-comedy balance that never fully settles, so scenes that should land as tense sometimes come off awkward instead. The creature work also varies, and if you’re picky about effects, a few moments may pull you out of the story rather than deepen the dread. If you want a tight, scary ride with polished scares, this may frustrate you—but if you’re open to a messy, metaphor-forward indie horror with a couple of sharp performances and some memorable gross-out imagery, it’s worth a cautious watch.