The Void

Let’s talk about The Void, a 2016 indie horror film that feels like someone dumped John Carpenter, Clive Barker, and David Cronenberg into a blender—though the results are definitely chunkier in some places than others. The movie opens with a bang: a bloodied man stumbling out of the woods and into a small-town hospital, which is immediately besieged by robed, cult-like figures posted ominously outside. Meanwhile, something really gross and not-at-all normal is happening inside with the patients. Right off the bat, you can tell this is a movie built on a foundation of eighties horror obsessions, both in aesthetic and attitude.

One thing that really stands out is the atmosphere. Directors Steven Kostanski and Jeremy Gillespie conjure up this paranoid, otherworldly feeling that feels genuinely oppressive. Most of the action takes place within the hospital, and it’s surprisingly effective, not because the building looks particularly spooky but because of the lighting: blue, sickly green, and shadows everywhere. You never know what’s lurking down a hallway or behind a curtain. The camera lingers a little too long on closed doors, making you really feel that tension instead of just showing you another monster jumping out.

Speaking of monsters: let’s get this out of the way. The Void is practical effects heaven. Buckets of goo, writhing limbs, meat sculptures that look like someone tried to recreate The Thing from memory but ran out of budget—it is gnarly in the best way possible. There’s a real mix of gross-out and creative, weird-as-hell body horror. You won’t forget some of these creatures anytime soon, whether you want to or not. It reminded me a bit of seeing Hellraiser for the first time and thinking, nobody should have this much fun with latex and fake blood, yet here we are.

A big chunk of the movie’s emotional engine rides on the shoulders of its lead, Aaron Poole, who plays a worn-out small-town cop dealing with what’s essentially the worst night of his life. He’s convincing enough, though the script doesn’t give him a ton to work with outside of “tough, sad guy who keeps moving forward.” There are some interesting dynamics between him and the ensemble of hospital survivors, but honestly, most characters get more for their physical suffering than their personalities. Not everybody has much going on beyond being monster fodder or deliverers of exposition.

The pacing gets weird after the rattling first act. Things slow a bit too much midway through, like the filmmakers are stretching to hit a feature-length runtime. There are some moments where the characters seem to be doing laps around the same parts of the hospital purely for the sake of splitting them up and picking them off. It builds tension but also feels a bit circular, and I found myself glancing at the runtime, which is never a great sign. Once the cult stuff and metaphysical horror start ramping up, though, the back half gets wild again, in ways that are refreshingly bonkers.

Where The Void struggles most is with its mythology. The movie gestures at some Lovecraftian cosmic horror, with portals and eldritch nightmares, but a lot of it comes out half-baked. We get cryptic dialogue, creepy symbols, and a big climactic vision that suggests deeper meaning, but it never quite earns the profound emotional payoff the filmmakers are reaching for. I couldn’t shake the feeling that they tried to pack three seasons of True Detective weirdness into ninety minutes, and as a result, some things feel more confusing than mysterious.

Still, there’s something really admirable here: The Void feels passionate. You can sense how much everyone involved wholly loves this stuff, and that love is infectious. Even when the plot goes off the rails or the dialogue gets clunky, there’s real craft in the monster effects and the atmosphere. The sound design is cool too, with growls and squelches that’ll give you goosebumps. The synth-heavy score probably won’t stick in your memory, but it does exactly what it needs to.

All said, The Void isn’t perfect, but it’s definitely fun if you love practical gore, monsters, and old-school weirdness. It’s not the next cult classic, but it is exactly the sort of midnight movie I have a soft spot for—ambitious, a bit messy, straddling the line between homage and earnest attempt to disturb you. If you want an atmospheric, gnarly time, this one is worth a watch after dark with friends who appreciate slime and weirdness.