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The horror/music fusion of V/H/S/Mixtape amounts to a dull roar

The Shudder horror anthology strains under its latest and most ambitious theme.

The horror/music fusion of V/H/S/Mixtape amounts to a dull roar

Sure as night follows day and Pepto follows a pile of fun-size Snickers, a new anthology in the long-running V/H/S franchise hits Shudder just in time for Samhain season. Music (or at least sound) is the theme that motivates V/H/S/Mixtape, an aural assault of short terror tales that boast the series’ typically wobbly spectrum of quality, only with fewer bursts of horror inspiration to keep the viewer engaged. Not every V/H/S has to be a winner, and the more specific a theme is, the less likely it is to satisfy everyone. But the theme of V/H/S/Mixtape is so specific that it becomes a detriment.

At least Mixtape is the most visually eclectic V/H/S in recent memory. Its imagery ranges from the juvenile gorehound monkeyshines of its ersatz hosts (the metal collective GWAR) to the Wonder Showzen-like puppet mayhem in Renee Zhan’s “Curious Chorus” and horrific stop-motion wonders of “Another Cabin” by Flying Lotus (whose creative versatility remains exciting). But aside from these, the standard-grade horror yarns that fill the rest of its runtime are too underwhelming to stand out. At its best, Mixtape almost resembles the well-curated sampler its title implies, in imagery if not always in energy or even sound—it even has the creative wherewithal to toss in a thrash-revenge music video. At its worst? We’ll get to that.  

That music video, by the way, is Tobias Forge’s “Premature Burial” for his Swedish metal band Repugnant (who reunited for this film), and tells the story of a woman who kills a doctor (for effectively disturbing reasons) and looks like a cross between Metallica’s “Enter Sandman” and a budget Mark Romanek video. Forge’s short isn’t exceptionally creative, at least visually—he shoots nearly everything at a low angle and from a medium distance, which puts it in something of a rut—but he makes effective use of his 4:3 aspect ratio and fills nearly every frame with creepy, cheapie horror imagery. (The band looks like they’re performing in a Cenobite’s lair, which rules.) “Premature Burial” represents both the possibilities and the limitations of Mixtape; it positions music as the governing idea for storytelling, yet it’s limited by the filmmaker’s ability to effectively convey aural dread within the time constraints they’re given. Still, telling a horror story via a music video is a great idea—in fact, it’s this anthology’s greatest idea—which sets a bar the rest of V/H/S/Mixtape doesn’t reach.

Zhan’s “Curious Chorus” feels like its story was written around its props, which might be the case; Jim Henson’s Creature Shop made its not-so-squishy puppets. The story is astroglide: A faceless television studio (repped by Barbara Crampton) wants to reboot the seemingly canceled-for-a-reason children’s puppet show, “Curious Chorus,” but is resisted by the plushies’ puppetmaster, George (Josh Willis). Soon, studio interference is met with a case of nostalgic hostility and one expertly placed bandsaw. This short doesn’t have much of a setup or even much of a payoff, but its final splatter gag is impressive. (Big nod to boutique L.A. makeup studio, Little Shop Of Gore, which handled the practical effects for most of Mixtape‘s shorts.) Meanwhile, Flying Lotus’ “Another Cabin” is a jittery, effective stop-motion nightmare: Its length stretches to a mere three minutes, which would default it to B-side status if it weren’t so inventive with its monstrous creeps. There’s a frightening feature to extract from “Another Cabin,” if its director ever feels inclined to explore it.

David Moreau’s “Heartbeat” tests viewers’ endurance for unlikable V/H/S characters in an almost experimental way. Two urban-explorer content creators (Julie Clergerie and Elie Kaempfen) break into a seemingly abandoned military outpost, only to be trapped in an old listening room by a complex lock. The pair, who’d previously seemed so confident in their concrete spelunking skills, are suddenly incapacitated by the room’s oppressive anti-noise. Moreau uses similar camera trickery as his one-take horror ride MadS, which gives the short a nervy sense of visual tension that is otherwise sorely lacking in its story. The whole thing goes clean through, and doesn’t even have the grace to leave a bruise. 

For those hankering for more plot in these shorts, Ernest Dickerson’s “The Music Of Mr. Sze” nearly saves the day. It follows college student Phillip (Jihad Brent), who stays in a flophouse while shooting a documentary. (Unsurprisingly, that’s a recurring excuse throughout the film.) Soon, Phillip is intrigued by Mr. Sze (Alex Hsu), a violinist living directly above him who plays insane music all hours of the night. Philip isn’t a very interesting character—Mixtape has no interesting characters—but, if nothing else, he breaches the paper-thin membrane into cosmic-horror territory in a jiffy. It’s a shame the eldritch imagery Dickerson uses here isn’t very horrifying or even all that startling; it flickers by so quickly and looks so generically Lovecraftian that all of “Mr. Sze” blurs by in a messy smear.

RZA’s “Death Tone” has a similarly ho-hum premise yet eventually (and unsurprisingly, given who made it) assembles its pieces into a brooding, grooving dirge. Lydia (Neela Jolene) is a grieving daughter who has to create the elusive beat her dead producer father never quite nailed during his storied and mysterious career, which requires that she act like a sweet-girl Patrick Bateman to lure her victims to their kinky deaths—all recorded with the finest studio equipment, of course. In fact, her victims ask her why she’s recording so often that this story beat, coupled with her dopey explanations, comes around to being somewhat funny, which is lucky: By the time it hits its bewildering crescendo, “Death Tone” ends up being fun, too. 

Uniting all this mayhem, as ever, is V/H/S‘ framing device. This time, it’s a regional public access show shot to hell by GWAR, who wring out their schtick over a series of interstitials that drain the band’s ability to riff on their brand of schlock and awe. Like so much in Mixtape, the execution (pun intended) leaves much to be desired. As GWAR provocatively shoots their goop all over the set (and sometimes onto each other), knocking out their stage gags and straining to land the next bawdy joke, one wonders if V/H/S has chosen a theme too specific to performance to work under such a loose framework. The fusion of sound and horror, with all its seemingly endless aural permutations (see this year’s Undertone), should feel like cranking up the untested decibels of genre possibility. All Mixtape can muster is a dull roar.

Directors: Ernest Dickerson, RZA, David Moreau, Flying Lotus, Renee Zhan, Tobias Forge
Writers: Zoe Cooper, David Moreau, Ernest Dickerson, RZA, Matt Landsman.
Starring: Barbara Crampton, Josh Willis, Christopher Romero Sosa, Julie Clergerie, Elie Kaempfen, Jihad Brent, Alex Hsu, Nour El Refai, Gustaf Hammarsten, Neela Jolene, Understanding Diggs
Release date: October 9, 2026 (Shudder)

 
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