Religious devotion in horror films often arrives in thunderous sermons or fiery spectacles. But Blood Shine takes a different route. Its opening, in which a woman salutes the rising sun after dragging what looks like a corpse across a skewed horizon, is quiet, uncanny and strangely beautiful. From the very first frame Emily Bennett and Justin Brooks signal that their film is less about shock tactics and more about unsettling disorientation. Faith refracted into menace, ritual blurred into violence.
The story revolves around Clara, played with conviction by Bennett herself. Clara is a devout follower of a cult whose teachings come via static-filled VHS tapes from the Leader (Larry Fessenden, on typically magnetic form). She believes her body is a cage to be transcended, that the light is salvation, and that blood may be the route to it. Living in isolation, her faith is absolute, and her rituals – ribbons in the sunlight, whispered prayers, salutes to the rising sun – reveal a woman utterly consumed by her cause. But Bennett gives Clara more than fanaticism. She is calm, sometimes even tender, which makes her violence all the more disturbing.
Her path collides with Brighton West (David Call), a horror filmmaker retreating to the countryside in search of inspiration for his latest sequel. Brighton is arrogant, self-important, and instantly unlikeable – the kind of man who complains about “inauthentic” American folk horror while struggling to come up with an original thought himself. He is exactly the sort of prey Clara might view as both challenge and opportunity. Their meeting doesn’t lead to a straightforward captivity tale but a grim, intellectual duel. Conversations about faith, art, authenticity and power run alongside physical torment, creating a narrative that’s as cerebral as it is savage.
There are echoes of Misery, a dash of Saint Maud, and even the ritualistic dread of Kill List. But Blood Shine never feels derivative. It uses these reference points only as loose scaffolding before building its own strange cathedral of cruelty and devotion. At times it slips into near-surrealist imagery with beams of light cutting through darkness, hallucinatory edits layered over Clara’s rituals. This gives the sense that we are seeing through her fractured mind. The editing is particularly sharp, maintaining an eerie rhythm that keeps the audience slightly off-balance, while Aaron Schuppan’s cinematography helps make the sun itself feel both holy and menacing.
While Blood Shine doesn’t shy away from moments of gore (a mid-act scene involving blades will make most horror fans wince), the film’s real power lies in its atmosphere. The violence isn’t gratuitous; it’s purposeful and a manifestation of Clara’s warped theology. And when the blood flows, it’s framed almost like a painting, terrible yet mesmerising.
Performances carry the piece. Bennett is extraordinary, layering Clara with devotion, fragility and cold menace. Call is perfectly cast as Brighton, a man who cannot decide whether to resist, reason, or simply sneer at his captor. And Fessenden, even in brief appearances, lends the cult a grim authority that makes its grip on Clara chillingly believable.
Though it was one of the most thought-provoking and engaging films at FrightFest 2025, Blood Shine isn’t a film for those looking for easy scares or straightforward catharsis. It’s a hypnotic, unnerving piece of horror that lingers on after its final image. Visually arresting, thematically rich, and anchored by two exceptional performances, it seats Bennett and Brooks as one of the most exciting partnerships in current independent horror.
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