Call of the Void (2025) [Movie Review]
Call of the Void is a new supernatural folk horror film from writer and director James B. Cox, starring Caitlin Carver (I, Tonya, Dear White People) and Mina Sundwall (#Horror, A Good Marriage) about a woman who, following the death of her brother, retreats to a cabin in the woods, hoping for a refresh. Needless to say, her idyllic escape doesn’t end up going as planned.
Call of the Void opens to an impressive image of the event horizon of a black hole—a sequence that seems at odds with its folk-horror synopsis but impressive, nonetheless. Soon, though, it comes back down to Earth as Moray (Carver) calls her dad, explaining why she’s whisked herself away from her family and job on short notice to spend a weekend in the woods. Late in the evening, Moray sees a group of college students stumble into the unit next door.
The noisy neighbors, it turns out, are a folk band led by vocalist Lucy (Sundwall), set on rehearsing songs from the “Appalachian folk songbook” (incidentally, performed live by the cast) all weekend. This factoid is featured prominently in the synopsis and marketing of the film, which admittedly is a little misleading because one look at the surrounding trees betrays the fact that the film is set far from Appalachia, which isn’t a deal breaker in the least—just confusing.
When Moray wakes up the next morning, she overhears the band’s rehearsal and lets herself into their cabin to watch. We then watch them perform “In the Pines” (made most famous by Nirvana’s performance of the song on MTV Unplugged as “Where Did You Sleep Last Night?”). Though we don’t see them sing the song in its entirety, with Lucy stopping and starting them a few times to get the sound just right, the scene does go for nearly a full five minutes. I was surprised to see that cinematographer Rapha Bola has just a single music video credit because the scene takes full advantage of the interlude, giving some serious VH1 vibes.
Surprisingly, the group doesn’t take unkindly to Moray barging in and creepily watching them for minutes on end, and they all sit down to breakfast. Moray struggles to get her new friends to open up too much about themselves but still accepts their invitation to go hiking. After some forced banter in the early part of the hike, and at the direction of guitarist Sterling (Richard Ellis), the group drops each person off at a “solo spot,” where they are meant to sit and wait for—well—they never say, but no one seems to question the intention, least of all Moray.
When the sun begins to set, Moray is still alone in the forest. Rightfully feeling taken advantage of, she storms back to the cabin, pounding on her neighbors’ door, looking for answers, but no one is home. It’s only after all of this lead-up that things begin to go horribly awry for Moray.
One of the things that Call of the Void does exceptionally well is manage tension. As the story develops, Cox eases viewers toward the inevitable doom that we expect, but there isn’t a point where we’d expect Moray to hightail it out of the situation until it’s too late. Sure, the band is a little standoffish—the guys especially—but in their defense, their weekend plans have been turned around by a clingy neighbor lady who insists she wants some alone time. And yeah, Sterling has strange rules for his hikes, but there’s no innate harm in going into the woods for a few hours of meditation.
For some audiences, the film’s methodical pacing, in combination with its refusal to offer concrete answers might prove too much to overcome, and that’s understandable. Personally, the more I sit with it, the more rewarding it feels. While I would strongly disagree with the film’s characterization as a folk horror tale, its hints at horror of a more cosmic nature are much more fitting, taking notes from the blossoming (sporing?) fungal horror genre, though not necessarily committing itself fully to any of those categories.
Much like the other films in that fungal horror realm, films like Ben Wheatley’s In the Earth (2021) and Gaia (2021), the film’s soundtrack is stellar. Aside from the band’s live performances, which stand out as well, Call of the Void’s music is perhaps the most memorable thing about the film, which isn’t at all meant to be a knock on the rest. The songs are great, but so is the atmospheric soundscaping that fills in the scenes between.
Call of the Void is not a film for anyone looking for gruesome kills or buckets of blood. There are no knife-wielding maniacs or monstrous beasts to satisfy your thirst for violence. But if you are in the mood for a patient, creeping horror, one that won’t feel obligated to give you that resolution you crave, Call of the Void may be worth checking out.
Call of the Void is available now on VOD, from Gravitas Ventures.
Article by Ande Thomas
Ande loves the intersection of sci-fi and horror, where our understanding of the natural world clashes with our fear of the new and unknown. He is an independent member of the Society for Cinema and Media Studies and a supporting member of the Horror Writers Association. He writes about monsters and foreign horror and can also be found over on Letterboxd.
Bones and roots adorn the walls of their dimly lit home. A mjölnir necklace hangs around K.’s neck as he hand carves incense into a small cauldron burner and a breathy soundtrack begins to play. This is a couple that is in tune—with themselves, with the natural world, and, as we will soon see, the supernatural world, as well.