Trauma or, Monsters All (Frightfest 2026)

FrightFest is typically full of guest filmmakers, speakers and actors, all arranged well in advance – and then there’s Larry Fessenden, who arrived at the screening of his new film Trauma or, Monsters All unannounced for a surprise Q&A. Before what would turn out to be a very successful UK premiere, he told organiser Alan Jones that Trauma or, Monsters All is his indie, humanist take on the Universal monster model (his “monsterverse movie) — a means to talk about the world as it is right now whilst paying homage to some of his favourite movies. It’s also the concluding chapter of a loose trilogy, drawing together threads from Habit, Depraved and Blackout. I haven’t seen those films, but this compelled me to seek them out, something Fessenden hoped for in this impromptu Q&A.

The wave of classically inclined indie films Fessenden was inspired by – and went on to inspire – are slow and deliberate, and so too is this depiction of Talbot Falls, a hamlet in upstate New York (complete with a surprise cameo from Tobey Poser). That sense of place feels honest and lived‑in, this grounded depiction is one of the film’s strongest assets. This comes not just from location scouting, but from Fessenden’s keen marriage of homespun, small‑scale storytelling with the fantastical. Together they are seamless, unshowy world‑building that is never less than naturalistic. That balance has always fascinated me due to the inherent difficulty of balancing tonal opposites, yet filmmakers like Jarmusch or Fessenden make this blend appear effortless.

At the centre of the story is Cassandra (Laetitia Hollard), a writer struggling with her notes for a George Bernard Shaw historical book that frames his story as being more fascinating than merely being “the peanut butter guy,” as she says in one of her voiceover spots. She’s struggling to differentiate her book from the others written about Shaw, and during that writer’s block she notices that the people living across the road – the deeply strange Alex (Alex Breaux) and Charley (Alex Hurt) – are more than they appear. Cassandra works part‑time at the library with Agnes (Aitana Doyle), who regales her with local stories and legends suggesting there may be monsters among the townspeople. And from that germ of an idea — combined with her suspicious neighbours — she’s motivated to pitch an article to the local paper about the “monsters over the road.” She writes it as an observation of what appears to severe shared trauma, but it quickly escalates into political and social wounds scored by rallying calls of “she wouldn’t know, she’s not from here.” In that, Fessenden explores divisions within a community, painting Cassandra as the target of hate, violence and vitriol before eventually escalating things into his third‑act blowout.

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The film is deeply rooted in the divided political landscape of the past decade, best exemplified by the characters referred to as Bert and Ernie. We all know these types: people who resort to political violence when confronted with disagreement, the sort who will turn up at a port town and scream at the lifeboat service in large groups clad in balaclavas, calling them traitors simply for preventing premature and preventable deaths. Fessenden’s commentary is sharp and on the nose without being heavy‑handed; the politics exist as part of a fractious microcosm, embedded in character rather than grandstanding, naturally this colludes into a strong character piece. Cassandra and Agnes find each other in a way that feels both inevitable and real, with the pair joking: “Is this a monster movie or a lesbian movie?” Both their performances are wonderful, and their relationship adds warmth and humanity to a story otherwise steeped in suspicion and generational hurt.

This is a collaborative sequel to Habit, Depraved and Blackout, meaning the styles on display span a fascinating range. The vampire sequences fronted by Fessenden’s Sam evoke Salem’s Lot; the Frankenstein material (beautifully and physically performed by Breaux) feels grassroots and earthy; the werewolf beats are grounded in rage, pity and self‑loathing. Those familiar with the originals may feel short‑changed, wanting more of their favourites and answers about what happened after their source films — and honestly, given that it’s not really about them per se, that’s an impossible hump to clear. Some people will hold that unfilled space as an insurmountable issue. For me, like all of Fessenden’s work, the flavour is naturalistic, character‑driven, with monsters infecting the world rather than dominating it and that was enough for me to get on board. Consequently, the creatures never feel bolted on because the characters inhabiting those archetypes are fully realised, what’s more, even though the interpretations are unique, everything operates in a consistent key.

The biggest surprise is that this is a funny movie. For every scene of deadpan weirdness, there’s a cameo from a horror legend who dies in their first scene, and every so often the camera returns to their increasingly neglected and harrowing corpse — a perfect metaphor for a lot of things, to be fair. Fessenden’s Sam is a vampire with brilliant, earned world‑weariness whilst also being a bit of an idiot who can’t read a room. The Wolfman and Frankenstein live together in a symbiotic relationship; Sam lives out of town and only gets involved because he read Cassandra’s article. That’s his grand M.O., he just wants a look-see, like I said, he’s an idiot. There are also surreal sequences of Cassandra being stalked in her home, with her tormentor poking their head around corners and bending physics in ways you’d expect from the Animaniacs. In this otherwise grounded piece, these moments (and the way vampires move vertically) offer up some playful touches.

The ending feels less like a traditional horror blowout and more like a breakdown of social barriers instigated by bad‑faith actors. Yes, monsters and men face off, destroying lives and tenement‑style buildings, but the climax operates on a political level as much as a genre one. Ultimately, it’s about what happens when fear, misinformation and trauma collide and reach critical mass.

I can’t say it will be accepted as warmly across the board as it was by me — its politics are not subtle, and that alone is enough to drive people mad, shouting for “politics to be kept out of horror”. And those familiar with the original titles may not be as accepting or forgiving. Even so, I enjoyed Trauma or, Monsters All a great deal. It’s fun, relevant, consistently conceived and designed. Fessenden’s use of actors with theatre backgrounds (and his commitment to giving unknown performers opportunities on a bigger platform) elevates the tone and makes the world feel more realised. As Aitana Doyle said during the Q&A, “Everyone knows Fessenden in New York.” For me, those factors gives Trauma or, Monsters All a texture that feels like an antidote to what’s happening elsewhere in the genre, where everything is starting to feel too familiar. Its like the adage goes, “what is old is new again”.

ROB’S ARCHIVE – TRAUMA OR, MONSTERS ALL