It’s pretty audacious for someone to make a mixtape. You may like that person. Heck, you might even think you love them. But giving someone a mixtape of all things is also kind of like saying, “Here’s a collection of emotions I’ve decided you should feel, in an order I’ve personally determined, for reasons that probably won’t make sense to anyone but me. Enjoy!” Oh.
The ninth installment of the beloved “V/H/S” franchise takes that potentially weird premise to terrifying cinematic extremes, with the new anthology streaming on Shudder on October 9. This time, the night’s entertainment includes four short films and a few musical interludes, all based on the theme of… sound? It’s a perfect excuse to make another “V/H/S” movie for sure. But “V/H/S Mixtape” also shows that it’s becoming increasingly difficult to maintain the series’ sense of novelty.
More broadly, the element of surprise goes along with found footage. Following a seven-year hiatus following the franchise’s significant low point, “V/H/S: Viral,” “V/H/S” made its return in 2021. Today, the brand’s managers are a mix of experienced producers and relative newcomers, who have kept the fan base alive by harnessing the IP to platform filmmakers with a remarkable range of creative talents.
In “V/H/S Mixtape” (the first installment released under new franchise owners Spooky Pictures and Image Nation Abu Dhabi), the assembled artists are also at notably different places in their careers. Veteran director and Spike Lee collaborator Ernest Dickerson brings decades of filmmaking experience, while French horror director David Moreau is fresh off the success of 2024’s “Mads.” Wu-Tang Clan’s RZA and electronic musician Flying Lotus also contribute their unique sensibilities — with Ghost frontman Tobias Forge making the directorial debut.
But it’s rising animator Renee Zan who makes the strongest case for the franchise’s continued relevance as a showcase for unconventional horror talent. It is becoming increasingly difficult to define the boundaries of contemporary found footage, and it cannot be denied that a vertical video randomly inserted into someone’s feed can deceive them in a way a feature film cannot. Against that increasingly unpredictable digital landscape, Zahn’s contribution, “Dance, Dance, Dance, Dance,” is all the more impressive for adapting a decidedly antiquated broadcast format: the children’s puppet show.
Featuring the original creations of Jim Henson’s Creature Shop, a quick look back at the long-canceled “Curious Chorus” children’s program reveals a brutally cruel satire about Hollywood’s greed. Barbara Crampton (long may she reign!) plays a studio executive with the manic confidence of a drug-addicted Suze Orman who presides over a botched attempt to reproduce beloved characters via digital scans.
The premise begins with some vaguely harrowing commentary on the death of linear TV before plunging into a first-person chase sequence that feels like going through a deranged theme park’s haunted love tunnel. Screenwriter Zoe Cooper supplies a total of four potential victims for Xan to dispatch, and the puppets quickly select the first three in some amusing and inventive ways. It’s the fourth meat sack who isn’t so lucky, suffering a dragged-out death that’s not only uncomfortable to endure but oddly embarrassing to watch.
From the recent dramatic horror hit “Buddy” to the surreal Showtime series “Kidding,” there are a surprising number of genre productions that have succeeded in turning cute bunches of something seriously messed up into vehicles. What sets “Dance, Dance, Dance, Dance” apart is its masterful control of the inevitable, deriving its power through the brutal thoughtfulness of its torture. This segment’s instantly annoying jingle serves up an earworm that you don’t want in your head while you’re watching someone else lose – but like a secret fan’s unwanted playlist, this bite-sized nightmare thrusts you into what Zayn has prepared for you, whether you like it or not.
The rest of “V/H/S Mixtape” is less agile, causing the outing to waste most of its time.
For his part, Morrow contributes “Heartbeat”, with something like “The Descent” and “The Backrooms” showcasing a nonsensical duet of survival horror that has been done better before. When a pair of urban explorers venture into an underground facility involved with sinister audio experiments, the segment’s vlogging setup is caught between its familiar visual format and the installment’s overarching musical theme.
The pair describe being tortured by the silence of this bizarrely constructed cave as much as the film actually tries to make the audience experience it, and it’s disappointing from a director whose recent work has suggested a more astute command of sensory horror. “Heartbeat” still has a nice set piece, and actors Julie Clergerie and Ellie Kempfen boast some incredible chemistry. (Plus, if you’re paying close attention a little dirty tattoo joke gives the whole process some welcome levity.)
Dickerson’s “The Music of Mister Says” is infinitely more depressing, as the esteemed cinematographer brings visual sophistication to a boarding-house mystery centered on a string musician and a young man wearing smart glasses. As soon as those two elements meet, it’s clear we’re cooked, and you can’t help but wonder what might have happened if someone else had written Dickerson’s “V/H/S” contribution. That said, there’s something about being trapped inside another person’s questionable tastes that could really work for some horror stories, and the director appears surprisingly playful here at least.
Finally, RZA’s “Death Tone” fares somewhat better than those two segments, even if it plays like the micro-budget baby of “High Fidelity” and “American Mary.” Neela Jolen stars as a young sound engineer who grieves her recording-artist father while moving on to a great platform of her own. Unfortunately, her father’s musical achievements depended on some highly distorted methods, and she must find her own way in the family business – critics be damned.
Inspired by the dental-drill recording Billie Eilish famously used for “Bury a Friend”, “Death Tone” includes a spectacular sequence in which Jolene’s character remixes literal suffering into an aggressive rhythmic track. The actress is an extremely entertaining presence, and this premise practically demands an explosive music video finale. Instead, the onslaught continues to spread from one encounter to the next, leaving you with an unsustainable toll that needs to get bigger and end sooner rather than later.
As far as hosts go, GWAR’s shock-metal icons are visible throughout. Depending on your fondness for the notoriously disgusting performance group, this is likely to inspire either affection or instant exhaustion. A bunch of rude and disgusting animals, GWAR serves up some purposefully funny gross-out dialogue, but their “V/H/S Mixtape” segment is presented through such a cheap visual lens that it makes the band’s entire enterprise feel dated in a bad way.
Doing the same thing for over four decades, GWAR has been rolling in its accomplishments like a sweaty t-shirt. Generally, a great anthology wraparound should give the audience room to breathe – or gently make the entire film feel claustrophobic. The GWAR interludes try both and accomplish neither, while Forge’s contribution is surprisingly forgettable.
By contrast, Flying Lotus offers a moonlit, demonic animated interlude that’s beautiful and barely concerned about fitting the theme. In the end, it really doesn’t have to be, though it does make you wonder why the filmmaker didn’t try something weird after making movies like “Kuso.” Of course, that inequality is fully encoded in the “V/H/S” DNA by this point. Originally conceived by Bloody Disgusting co-founder Brad Miska, the anthology series has survived a small carousel of distributors, an explosive streaming-era revival and, most recently, the addition of a new financial partner.
None of this has erased the films’ core identity, and Zane’s contribution to “V/H/S Mixtape” in particular is proof that the series can still introduce horror fans to an extremely exciting cast – while also educating them about pop culture frameworks they may never have experienced in person. But balancing those levels comes with a strange paradox: Even as the “V/H/S” installments themselves remain fresh, the mat on which they fit feels increasingly uninspired. It’s an odd situation for a property whose modern reputation is built on cutting-edge innovation.
Perhaps, then, the solution is to stop insisting that “V/H/S” archives serve as complete tapes. For example, Troma Now’s streaming catalog has a randomizer built into it. It’s a single button that takes you to any nightmare that’s available in stock: a brilliant idea that, sure, probably zero people use reliably… but imagine something similar for the “V/H/S” segment! A miniature version of 2012 may suddenly follow one of 2026, with no promise that the next selection will be the same. If horror anthologies still make a good case for the pleasures of manufactured randomness, actual randomness might be more exciting — and in that sense, at least, “V/H/S Mixtape” has got the goods. So, do this: make a mixtape. Don’t commit to just one love letter.
Grade: C+
Shudder’s “V/H/S Mixtape” will premiere on streaming on October 9th.