Mudborn (2025)

Mudborn is the kind of horror-thriller that earns its chills the old-fashioned way: by building an atmosphere so thick you feel it in your lungs, then letting dread seep into the quiet corners of a home that should feel safe. Director Shieh Meng-ju marries modern anxieties (tech, immersion, obsession) with folk-tinged menace, and the result is a story that moves with confident pacing, striking cinematography, and scares that land because the characters feel real. Tony Yang and Cecilia Choi give grounded, committed performances that make the unraveling feel intimate rather than sensational, turning a simple object into something you can’t stop watching. It’s not for the squeamish—there’s possession, violence, and genuinely unsettling imagery—but if you want a smart, well-made supernatural ride that respects your attention and still knows how to spook you, this one delivers.

Mudborn is clearly aiming for a modern Taiwanese supernatural chill ride—mixing VR-era anxiety with old-school folklore, talismans, and a cursed object that slowly poisons a family from the inside. When it leans into atmosphere, the doll restoration obsession, and the creeping domestic dread, it can be genuinely unsettling and nicely textured. The problem is it reportedly starts to wobble as it goes on: the rules around possession and the curse get murky, the ending leaves gaps you can drive a truck through, and some dim lighting choices make key moments feel more frustrating than frightening. If you need tight logic, big scares, or a punchy payoff, you’ll likely come away annoyed; if you’re happy with a slower, mood-first haunt that’s relatively tame, it may still scratch the itch.