With its moody and atmospheric visuals, Posthouse initially presents itself as a potentially terrifying experience. Unfortunately, beneath all that polish lies a hollow horror film that never quite comes together. Much like previous efforts associated with the Red name, Nikolas Red’s Posthouse prioritizes aesthetic flair over narrative cohesion, resulting in a film that looks impressive but feels deeply undercooked.
The story follows Cyril (Sid Lucero), a film editor burdened by his father’s legacy and struggling to keep his production house afloat. His life takes a turn when he receives a package from his deceased father containing Ang Manananggal, a long-lost 1920s silent film. Hoping to complete its restoration, Cyril enlists the help of his daughter Rea (Bea Binene), unknowingly unleashing a monstrous presence into their lives.
On paper, Posthouse is rich with potential. It ambitiously blends horror, filmmaking, trauma, and Philippine film history into a single narrative. The early build-up, coupled with striking visuals, suggests a slow-burn descent into dread. But once that initial promise fades, the film devolves into a disjointed collection of questionable scenes and tired, old-school scare tactics that won't scare audiences.
The film’s biggest failure lies in its severely underdeveloped narrative. Everything unfolds in a single night, asking the audience to believe that the restoration of a historically significant silent film, and the emotional unraveling of its characters, could happen so hastily and abruptly. The escalation feels rushed and unearned, with little effort made to establish emotional stakes or believable character dynamics. Sid Lucero delivers his usual performance, but it is ultimately wasted on weak writing. Bea Binene fares decently, yet the lack of chemistry between her and Lucero is glaring, making their father-daughter relationship feel hollow. In the end, Posthouse mirrors the very creature it invokes. Like a manananggal, it is split down the middle. It is visually striking on one half, narratively empty on the other. Half-formed, half-baked, and ultimately a frustrating waste of an otherwise promising idea.
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Posthouse (2025) Movie Review: Half-Baked, Half-Formed
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