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Cult Review
Senior Film Conservator
If you have an itch for old-school, stagey atmosphere, Haunted Barn is going to tickle your brain. It is not for the folks who need a jump scare every five minutes to keep from falling asleep. You’ll probably hate it if you need high-octane pacing, but if you’re a fan of mood, it’s a weirdly charming relic.
John Moon—what a name, by the way—decides that the best way to spend a perfectly good night is sitting in a barn waiting for a dead guy. It’s the kind of premise that feels like it was written on the back of a napkin in a pub, and I mean that in the best way possible.
There is this heavy, lingering silence that hangs over the barn. You can tell they were trying to save money on sets, but it actually works in their favor. The shadows feel thick. It reminds me of the claustrophobia in Blackmail, where every corner of the room seems to be hiding something you can’t quite see.
Phil Smith carries the whole thing on his back, looking suitably stressed out. The way he stares at the rafters for ten minutes straight? I think I started staring at my own ceiling just to keep up. It’s hypnotic, if a bit sleepy.
I found myself wondering if Sturdy the bushranger would have actually bothered showing up for a guy like John Moon. If someone betrayed me and I died for it, I’d be haunting a palace, not a leaky shed. Priorities, right? 👻
It’s not as polished as Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, but it’s got this scrappy, low-stakes energy. Sometimes, you don’t need a massive plot. You just need a guy in a barn and a lingering sense of unease.
It’s an odd little trip. I’m glad I watched it, even if I couldn't tell you half the plot details by tomorrow morning. It’s just... there. Like a stubborn stain on the rug.