V/H/S Mixtape is streaming globally now on Shudder.
Synopsis
The ninth installment cranks the signature found-footage horror up to eleven with an electrifying new anthology where music and sound become the source of terror. United by a theme that explores the power of music, rhythm and audio to haunt, possess and destroy, the film blends cosmic horror, psychological suspense, outrageous splatter and groundbreaking practical effects into one unforgettable mixtape of nightmares. Featuring all-new segments from legendary filmmaker Ernest Dickerson, hip-hop icon RZA, visionary director David Moreau and acclaimed filmmaker Renee Zhan, whose segment includes original puppets by Jim Henson’s Creature Shop. V/H/S/MIXTAPE also features original music video interludes directed by acclaimed filmmaker and musician Flying Lotus, alongside a brand-new music video from debut filmmaker Tobias Forge, creating a genre-bending mixtape experience unlike anything the franchise has attempted before. Adding to the chaos, legendary shock-metal pioneers GWAR also make a featured appearance, further cementing the film’s celebration of horror, music and cult cinema.
Review
I’m not going to sugar-coat this, V/H/S Mixtape marks the franchises lowest point since it’s third instalment V/H/S: Viral all the way back in 2014, delivering an anthology that feels utterly disjointed and fundamentally disingenuous to what this series ought to represent.
What originally made the franchise work was a shared theme and aesthetic: raw found-footage grit tied together by an inventive horror concepts. Here, that cohesion is entirely missing, replaced by a cynical assembly of shorts with one not being found footage at all. Nowhere is this clearer than in the wrap-around framing narrative, which stands as the biggest let down of the film. It is directionless, devoid of tension, and comes across as nasty purely for the sake of being gross—offering none of the mystery or atmospheric dread that a good framing segment should provide.
The individual segments themselves are a complete mixed bag, swinging wildly between wasted potential and outright stylistic mismatch. The anthology opens with a segment centred around demonic puppets—an genuinely intriguing premise that hooks you early on, only to stumble by rushing its execution when it needed far more room to breathe and explore its concept. Where did these puppets come from? Why did they go off the air? Did they kill before? Things drop off further with the second segment, a brief stop-motion short that leans entirely on shock-value grossness. While the animation itself shows craft, its inclusion feels completely misaligned with the found-footage format, pulling you out of the illusion entirely. By also including a shot of the stop motion grandmothers ass being licked by a demon, it makes you question what the hell you are even watching. Then it simply ends out of nowhere and sends you right back to the demon guys of the main segment.
Fortunately, the middle of the tape manages to find some footing. The third segment delivers one of the film’s high points, following a YouTube couple who become trapped inside a soundproof room and slowly descend into paranoia and madness. It captures a tight, claustrophobic dread that fits modern analog horror well. These sound proof rooms have proven to cause many problems for people who stay in them for long periods of time, with the record being 86 minutes. So to make a horror situation where you’re in it for days and day would be quite a horror to witness.
That momentum is promptly stalled by the fourth entry, which attempts a cosmic, Lovecraftian plot; while the narrative ambition is admirable, the entire segment is undercut by consistently questionable acting that breaks immersion at every turn. The concept went way above the budget allowance and the performances throughout were just not there.
Verdict
It isn’t until the final segment that the film hits a genuine high mark. Following a young woman who honours her late musician father by murdering victims, capturing their screams, and sampling their pain into a haunting composition, the finale is dark, inventive, and thematic. It’s easily the standout of the anthology, but one great track can’t save a broken album. Between a disgusting and pointless frame narrative and creative choices that stray far too wide from found footage, V/H/S Mixtape feels less like a passion project and more like a tired franchise losing sight of what made it special.
⭐⭐
