Part 2 of my coverage of FrightFest 2026 covers some of the UK films shown at the Festival.
Grin (UK 2026: Dir Lawrence Fowler) Fowler has quite the thing for the mythical killer with the potential for a franchise, having already given us three ‘Jack in the Box’ movies.
Clearly sensing another horror character with legs, he now gives us ‘Grin’. ‘Grin’ is the name of a game, later described as a 17th century version of a Ouija board (although it also resembles a 1960s game called ‘Master Robot’, but that may just be me showing my age). A prologue has shown us that the game has murderous properties; in reality it’s a demon summoning device, said creature locking in on those who harbour guilty secrets.
Flash forward a few years and the game finds its way into the hands of a family courtesy of Lucien (Simon Davies), a toy collector and art dealer with a perpetually unctuous smile, who found the thing on the internet. Lucien’s wife is Agnes (Virginia Gilchrist) whose three grown up children from her first marriage are far from happy, particularly Eva (Gareth Tidball) who moved to the US with her father when she was 10 and now has a daughter of her own.
Returning to a Welsh family get together she’s reunited with brothers Ben (Luke Rhodri) and Joe (Samuel Lane). No one is that keen to meet again, and for a good reason; they all share a secret so unspoken that even Eva’s husband doesn’t know it.
Bored of the usual rounds of Trivial Pursuit, Lucien brings out ‘Grin’, a complicated gizmo in which people write their names on a board and a skull with horns points to the guilty; the life sized ‘Grin’ which emerges from the game (looking like a left over from Del Toro’s Pan’s Labyrinth) manifests itself and sets about picking off those with guilty secrets; pretty much the whole family then, starting with Joe, who has committed the sin of kicking his wife and child out.
Well done to Fowler for at least giving us a ‘Grin’ origin story and imbuing the demon with the power to mess with minds as well as flesh ripping talons; a very brief cameo from a paranormal expert brings us up to speed on the arcane science leading to its creation, before disappearing. But all this feels like just so much window dressing to a well trodden story of a family being hunted by a masked creature in a country rental. Grin though, played by Lucas Edwards, remains a pretty effective character; I get the feeling that Fowler will be returning him to our screens soon.
Electric Meat (UK 2025: Dir Dan Schaffer) The cinema of transgression relies, for its effect, on a combination of unusual images, shock, disturbing subtexts and a general visual pummelling. All but the most extreme titles eventually succumb to the adage that ‘the old immorality becomes the new morality’. Dan Schaffer’s
Electric Meat, if you’ll pardon the pun, comes preaged; maybe it’s just me being an old git, but if you’re going to trade on the legacy of transgressive cinema, at least make it edgy.
In this 90 minute black and white, near silent barrage of suspenders, legacy technology and pouting close ups, Caspian Faye plays a butcher by trade whose real talent is ‘out there’ photography (his work looks like vintage Paul Raymond to me). Faye lines his rented room with rejection slips and flyers from phone boxes, and indulges in a (n un) healthy fantasy life involving past models.
The butcher happens on the corpse of a girl, who he used to photograph, so he takes her home and re-arranges her from time to time while keeping her in a basket.
Downstairs his landlady, a former model (Emily Booth) waits for her overdue rent and decides to have a nose in her tenant’s room; what she sees sends her on a mind bending recovery of her former self and a pact with the half dead to seek revenge.
Or something. Schaffer’s debut feature, mainly filmed in one location, makes the best of what he has and then repeats until ennui sets in. The main problem with the film, apart from its overall aimlessness and lack of any style or panache, is that it thinks it’s way more dangerous than it is. If Electric Meat were filmed thirty or so years ago it would probably take a few risks, but here we are in 2026 where the clothes (mostly) stay on and the cast’s gyrations seem borrowed from a 'Hot Gossip' dance workout. The director has clearly seen all the cultural touch points (Nekromantik, Repulsion, Eraserhead, Richard Kern’s shorts) and then filtered them into something that may have been bearable as a 20 minute short. Not good.
Wrath of the Gods (UK 2026: Dir Justin Hardy) The untimely death at 61 of director Justin Hardy means that
Wrath of the Gods stands as his epitaph.
It’s particularly poignant in that the film completes the ‘Wicker Man’ trilogy, started by his father, the late Robin Hardy back in 1971 with the original The Wicker Man, and Robin’s follow up, The Wicker Tree, in 2011.
You can argue – as many have – whether both of Hardy pere’s movies could be called ‘horror films’; I think of them more as films about communities attempting to retain their unity and traditions in the face of progress and outsider intervention. Certainly WotG fits into this category.
Anna (Christiane Schaldemose), who is Norwegian, travels with her young daughter Gudron (Martha Robinson) to the remote fictional Scottish island of Hel (in reality the Shetland Islands) after her ex, Ingram (Jamie Rhodes) took his own life there. She’s an unwelcome face in a community which closes ranks to contain its own demons, not least Ingram’s parents, taciturn Tulloch (Francis Magee) and his wife Maeve (Lynsey Rendall) with whom she’s staying.
The disappearance of a local girl sparks suspicion and fingers gently point in Anna’s direction, although the village seems full of characters who could be equally responsible; things change when Gudron disappears too. Anna, whose stresses make her turn to the bottle, forms a friendship with another outsider, Joy (Dawn Jessica Douglas), curator of the local folk museum; she explains the intersection of ancient beliefs between the islanders and those of the next nearest landmass, Norway, suggesting that there might be a supernatural explanation for the disappearance.
Hardy’s film is by its very nature wedded to its antecedents, so a lot of WotG feels thematically familiar. The integration of professional and amateur actors, rugged landscape locations and authentic footage of islander celebrations (Hardy filmed the Shetlands Up Helly Aa firelit procession) give the film a much-needed authenticity. The story itself is both slight and fractured, the elements hanging together a little awkwardly. It’s a more moral end to the trilogy (people who get theirs deserve it) but isn’t quite equal to the sum of its parts.
Hungry (UK/USA 2026 Dir James Nunn) Four years after director James Nunn carted us all off to Mexico (although actually shot in Malta) for the so so predatory shenanigans of 2022’s
Shark Bait, he now whisks us away to the Louisiana swamplands (ok it’s Malta again) for his latest creature feature.
Just fired Sistine (Madison Davenport) and her bestie Hannah (Olivia Bernstone) are partying in a bar when hunky Rodrigo (Michel Curiel) encourages them onto a swamp tour where they’re guaranteed to see some gators.
The following morning the hungover girls join a tiny boat full of the usual disaster movie types, including stuffily dressed entitled businesswoman Dionne (Tracey Bonner) hoping to capture a glimpse of the swamp’s resident bad boy gator Big Ben; there’s also bored young Mike (River Codack), his doting mum Sally (Samantha Coughlan), and her father Tim (Jim Meskimen).
The boat heads off into the swamp but away from the agreed route; a backhander has been given to the inexperienced Rodrigo for a better look at the gator, which results in the the craft being miles away from civilisation, at which point a) the remains of Big Ben are seen, its huge body gutted by something even bigger and b) the group eventually learn that there’s a hungry hippo abroad (and yes that is a reference to the game; I think this is a sly entry in some universe or other). Some handy exposition tells us that the hippos are veggies but prone to attack perceived predators (ie the cast) and that they were originally introduced to the area as gator food but have evolved as a dominant species.
And that’s all you need to know as the boat party get capsized, hang out in the trees for safety, and face their own personal demons (interestingly it’s only the women that have traumatic back stories); oh and predictably fuckup Sistine comes good for the final reel.
Nunn cleverly interlaces stock shots from the Louisiana swamps with the Malta filmed footage to provide a convincing sense of location (even if the - pretty convincing - hippo action is minimal) and there’s a lot of character drama among the stranded gator watchers, the cast providing good value. This is a fun flick that might not stand up to regular rewatching, but Nunn knows what he’s doing and, more importantly, not to exceed limitations.
The Death of Us (UK 2026 Dir Annabella Rich) It was only a few years ago that Annabella Rich began appearing in independent British ‘Fantastic’ film productions, usually in small roles, so it feels almost generational to watch her directing debut, in which she stars with real life partner Chris Mills, himself no stranger to the independent movie scene.
Rich plays Casey Harper, an artist and mother of 2 year old Tommy, who when we meet her has been left with a friend, Jess (Francesca Louise White) so Casey can attend the launch of a book written by her husband Danny (Mills). Danny is an ambitious soul, in negotiations with TV and movie companies for a new book; it’s clear that life is moving a little too fast for Casey.
But when the couple return home, tragedy strikes; two men have broken into their home. Jess and Tommy are both dead, and although Danny manages to fight back, Casey sustains serious knife injuries; boldly most of this scene plays under the film’s opening titles.
Casey survives the attack despite having a near death experience in hospital, but the murder of their son and the trauma of the night hospitalises her. When she’s discharged, eight months later, Danny has moved them to a large country residence (afforded by the TV deal) to attempt a new start. But the couple remain raw; the film uneasily settles down to a succession of scenes where the couple talk about their sorrow, negotiate therapy and the way forward. Trauma and grief are staples of the contemporary filmic horror tradition, but they’re rarely as raw as this (as a self-confessed neurodivergent filmmaker, Rich is clearly exorcising some things here).
But while Danny tries to remain practical, even signing up for the vicar’s talking therapy sessions (where he meets the brusque Joe, a great turn from genre regular Johnny Vivash), Casey succumbs to frightening visions (including one with a demonic Danny, the movie’s most disturbing scene), and becomes interested in the conspiracy theorists and ‘experts’ who have proliferated since the murders happened. Danny acquiesces and invites Reynolds (Nicholas Vince), a self-styled occult specialist, who offers the theory that Casey’s temporary death on the operating table may have violated some kind of devilish bargain.
As one might expect from debut features, The Death of Us is far from perfect, but Rich and Mills give it everything they’ve got as grieving parents trying to pull themselves out of the cycle of despair. It’s a slow burner; boldly Rich is happy to show the repetition of actions that can surround grief recovery. When the film moves into Kill List territory it’s almost a relief. Tonally a little uneven and with a few clunky support performances, The Death of Us nevertheless nails its core emotions and is an uncomfortable account of the mechanics of grief.
The Brook (UK 2026: Dir Paul Stainthorpe) Paul Stainthorpe’s first fiction feature, after several years of shorts and documentaries, takes place on an unspecified housing estate in the fictional town of Elmbrook, into which Jacob (Connor Lawson) and his mum Michelle (Jill Dellow) move; specifically into Michelle’s father’s house, following his death. As well as the usual small town boredom and drugs problems, Elmbrook also boasts of a legendary ‘Elmbrook Puma’ and an accompanying rash of disappearances.
Jacob, a talented artist, has to adjust to a new school, making friends with a group which includes Erin (Helen Chong) and trying to avoid the class bullies. Meanwhile back at home, with his mum having a tough time of it, partly because of her rather awful neighbour Mrs Walker (Meryl Griffiths), Jacob finds an old video camera while rummaging through his grandad’s things. Although it doesn’t work in the usual sense, via a video recorded by grandad he finds that the camera views events precisely one hour back.
Somehow Stainthorpe weaves all these story strands together; the result is a baffling mix of teen drama, murder mystery and science fiction. Without the swearing and bloodshed, it would have made a perfect Children’s Film Foundation movie forty years ago.
It’s a strangely watchable piece, mainly because the viewer is never really sure where the film is headed next. The young cast are good value and do excellent bickering although, as mentioned, the whole thing becomes increasingly wayward. Stainthorpe’s hope, in nicking a motif from George Pal’s 1960 movie The Time Machine, is, I think, to make at least one sequel. While I’d be happy to see Jacob, Erin and the gang again, a less rambling story would be advisable.
Dead Reset (UK 2026: Dir Stewart Sparke) When I was a lad, filmed adaptations of computer games saw actors bringing CGI created content to life. Flash forward to 2025, and here we have
Dead Reset, which is a version of a full-motion video (FMV) game developed by Dark Rift Horror and Wales Interactive and directed by Stewart Sparke; basically a movie based game where the player has to make ‘choose your own adventure’ style choices as the story progresses.
The central character here is Cole Mason (David Tennant lookielikie Daniel Thrace), a surgeon who has been brought into a research lab by bossy Magson (Adrina Carroll) to operate on a patient who has a parasitic growth in her lower abdomen, which needs to be removed. His anxious crew mates are trigger happy Slade (Dennis Rasaq), Fearne (Lyndsey Craine) and Cooper (Michaela Longden).
Confusingly in a crimson saturated prologue we’ve already seen the disastrous results of the parasite’s extraction; death to everyone, including Cole. But Mason gets another chance to carry out the operation which also ends fatally; and another, and another, for he’s locked in a time loop where his death, either via creature or other team member, triggers a reset.
This, along with a multiverse setup, is becoming a popular narrative choice for ‘fantastic’ filmmakers; it’s cheap, can be done using one set, and relies on the audience gradually understanding what’s happening to the person in the loop, and how they can get out of it.
The problem here is that Dead Reset is basically a re-edit of 'Dead Reset' the video game, where Sparke has removed the player options (obviously) and set out a version of the game as decided by him; so it’s like a greatest hits of the FMV.
Now in a game format the elements are undoubtedly impressive; there’s some practical gore, a big take no prisoners creature, and a set which may be cramped but allows the action to open out, particularly towards the end. But on screen this has some major limitations, chiefly that a lot of the film is a small cast chatting to – or shouting at – each other, with not much else going on.
Sparke is a talented director; his most recent two films, 2018’s
Book of Monsters and its 2023 follow up
How to Kill Monsters were both hugely enjoyable, and many of the cast members in those movies turn up here. But despite the impressive practical effects and on a budget set design,
Dead Reset rather drags, which is a shame. And if you’ve already played the video game, to be honest you don’t really need to see this.
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