Call of the Void Compels with Curiosity

Call of the Void delivers cosmic horror through captivating curiosity. This slow-burning fright flick, courtesy of writer-director James B. Cox, hits several familiar notes. What keeps the audience engaged is the tangible mystery woven throughout. Portraits of the unknown are hard to paint, so a clever use of common concepts hint at an image without directly saying anything.

Moray (Caitlin Carver) retreats to a woodland cabin resort. Hoping to regroup in the face of mounting adult difficulties, she settles in for some quiet time alone. It isn’t long before her isolation is interrupted by a group of college kids in the cabin next door. Engaging with them, Moray is slowly drawn into a web of cosmic horror, a glimpse of which may be too much for any mind.

What follows is a sizzling fuse wire creeping towards dark outcomes. As such, the typical themes of cosmic horror unfold across the feature. What Call of the Void does uniquely is never explain itself. James B. Cox has the wherewithal to trust in the material, not to mention the audience, allowing events to simply unfold. It often leaves the viewer as lost as its main characters, which is exactly what a flick like this needs to remain engaging.

There’s wonderful attention to detail in Call of the Void. While this includes cinematic choices which make for some solid shots, largely it pertains to the movie’s visual storytelling. There’s a lot to be discerned by the way someone catches a bottle of water tossed at them as well as the tone of interactions. Dialogue isn’t necessarily a spew of details, but better yet remains implicative because of the way different individuals treat one another.

Furthermore, thanks to a minimal number of expositions, Call of the Void never spoon-feeds the viewer. The audience is largely left to assemble their own sense of the narrative’s many insinuations. As such, it’s necessary to stay focused throughout the film. Various background details hint at aspects of the story, fleshing things out without ever saying a word. This allows Call of the Void to remain mysterious and simultaneously engaging as watchers catch clues hinting at cosmic horror implications.

Whether print, film, comic, or whatever the medium, cosmic horror isn’t an easy sub-genre to capture. Writer-director James B. Cox makes the smart play of never making anything obviously concrete. Something sinister certainly occurs, but I think there’s enough room for interpretations that different viewers will see their own movie. That room for debate gives Call of the Void a unique leg up over other fright flicks which mistakenly explain their horror too much. Here, the unknown is used well to keep the audience curious. While there are familiar notes, noticing such concepts feels more like a catch than a boring cliché.

Nitpickers will likely grab at some minor peccadilloes. In a film this detail-oriented, it’s inevitable. At risk of spoilers, there is an egregious violation of Chekhov’s gun. One or two scenes might have been quicker paced. Still, none of these are anything which derails the whole motion picture. Despite two or three venial sins, forgiveness is more than warranted. Mentioning them here is meant more to cut off overzealous criticism than lash the movie.

Metaphorically, there’s an intriguing use of insects. Such glimpses of nature provide a sense of the often-ignored unknown that already surrounds humanity while fueling speculations that compel the audience to keep watching. For example, creatures beyond comprehension may simply be another extension of natural order. Call of the Void conjures this notion without ever nailing down specifics, leaving the audience to wonder what is real.

The cast really seems onboard with the subtle intentions of the film. Mina Sundwall (Lost in Space) as Lucy has several wonderful instances where her facial expression and tone of voice imply something is off. Her ability to convey uncertainty about her intentions makes for some fabulous moments. Ethan Herisse, who shined in Nickel Boys, is excellent as Darryl. He hints at something wrong by his own reactions, while eventually becoming tragic as the horror unfolds. Caitlin Carver (I, Tonya) brings a certain quiet plausibility to much of the movie. Her palpable unease mixes with an understandable desire to not only leave no one behind, but also understand the unfathomable.

Granted, her role is given one or two, for lack of a better term, ‘idiot’ plot moments. Still, Call of the Void largely makes a disturbing kind of sense. Essentially, someone isolated, wounded by loss, longing for human connection, interacts with the wrong group of people. What exactly ensues is another question entirely, not to mention the implications of the end.

Call of the Void may get chewed on a bit by nitpickers who can’t let little things slide. It’s their loss. That said, this slow burn fright flick isn’t necessarily a casual watch. The attention to detail isn’t just an accomplishment worth mentioning—from paintings in cabins to mushrooms on wooded trails and surrounding sounds—it’s part of the storytelling. Turning away risks missing details which fuel curiosity about where things are going.

Wonderfully atmospheric, with unsettling implications, Call of the Void may not be horrifying to seasoned gorehounds looking for a bucket of blood. Yet, it does deliver a creepy story thanks to a curiosity-inducing mystery, cleverly captured by writer-director James B. Cox and brought to life by a solid cast. There’s a satisfying narrative that leaves room for audiences to speculate what exactly happened; part of the fun is putting the puzzle together.

Those in the mood for a quietly creepy flick will enjoy Call of the Void. Familiar notions cleverly presented will captivate anyone willing to put down their phones to watch what unfolds. While there may be a handful of better films that tackle this genre, Call of the Void joins a shortlist of movies that handle cosmic horror well. That’s a rare enough win to intrigue those searching for esoteric eldritch scares.