Sinister is the story of true-crime writer Ellison Oswalt (Ethan Hawke), who moves his unsuspecting family into a house with a dark history. In the attic, he finds a box of old Super 8 reels. What starts as research quickly becomes obsession, as he realizes each film is a record of a family’s murder, and that something sinister is hiding in the frames.

That’s really all you need to know, because the rest is atmosphere. And I love the atmosphere of this movie. It’s dark, it’s misty, the skies always feel heavy—it’s got that perfect Halloween-season chill to it. Sinister also feels nostaglic, the lonely suburban house, the old footage, his study, it feels almost cozy until it’s absolutely not.

But it’s those cursed home movies that stick with me. They feel too real due to the grainy and amateurish stylization. The exact kind of thing you’d find in a box you definitely shouldn’t have opened. Derrickson makes you sit with the footage longer than you want to, until you feel complicit, like you’re the one watching something forbidden. They’re the kind of images you can’t shake, even when you know they’re staged. And honestly, it makes me wonder—why does Scott Derrickson love torturing kids so much?

The score also deserves credit. It’s eerie in the quiet moments and downright terrifying in the big ones. There are stretches where the music alone makes your heart rate spike, amplifying every shadow and every sound in the house.

I love this movie. It’s mean, it has mystery, ghosts, 8mm film reels, and James Ransone! What’s not to love? Ethan Hawke plays the unraveling writer perfectly—selfish, ambitious, and willing to gamble with his family’s safety for the sake of a story. Watching his obsession consume him is almost as chilling as Bagul himself.

Sinister isn’t a funhouse ride; it’s dark, uncompromising, and sometimes brutal. Some moments might be too much for some of you, so proceed with caution. But if you love horror that seeps into your bones, this one’s pure bliss.