On a dark, stormy night, A Night of Horror: Nightmare Radio unfolds as a curious watch. An anthology that brings together existing horror shorts under one banner, it is a fitfully entertaining film that feels like an effective snapshot of the industry is now. A radio DJ sits in his studio taking calls and spinning some yarns. And as he talks a series of stories unfold that take in a breadth of subgenres. It doesn’t always work but it is an enjoyable watch for genre fans.
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Where Nightmare Radio is worth your time is as a showcase for some exceptional horror talent. The opening story, In the Dark Dark Woods (directed by Jason Bognacki), plays out as an interesting twist on the invisible man narrative, hinting at a subtext that just about manages to elevate the material. Pablo . S. Pastor’s Into the Mud manages an ending that makes some its initial dependence on genre tropes worth while. Meanwhile Joshua Long’s Post Mortem Mary is a wonderfully creepy period piece, following a mother-and-daughter photography team who capture a last portrait of the deceased. It helps that this short never outstays its welcome, crafting a supernatural story with a sting in the tale, performed well be an accomplished ensemble. 

But probably the best of the bunch is The Disappearance of Willie Bingham. Matt Richards’ short feels less strictly horror and more a dystopian drama. It’s essentially a particularly mean Black Mirror episode playing out in the space of ten brief minutes, effectively satirizing our often cruel penal system.

There are issues with A Night of Horror: Nightmare Radio. With a net cast wide there are segments that leave a greater impression then others. The connecting story feels particularly lackluster as our radio DJ seeks ways to link such a disparate collection of stories. Portmanteaus particularly work when it feels like there is a strong connection through them, which feels absent here. And it can’t help but leave an impression that the roster of directors whose works are in this film are an all-male collective, seemingly reflecting the troubling history the horror genre has had with diversity. Speaking as a love of all things grisly and spooky, the widest range of voices we have the better for the viewer. It is just something to reflect on as this anthology reaches its climax.

Nightmare Radio gives fans of horrors a snack box of bitesize horror treats. If aspects of its don’t quite click together, there is enough here to recommend seeking, even if it is just for the two or three shorts that manage to bury under the skin and live an impression.

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Occasional you’ll come across a horror film that will linger. One that will return to you late at night, that you will dwell on long after it ends. This is the case with Death of a Vlogger, a found footage/mockumentary that effectively builds a dread-filled atmosphere that washes over viewers and grip us tight. It emerges as one of the most interesting and effective genre debut in British cinema in the past decade.

The eponymous vlogger is Graham, a YouTube success story who appears to be in the midst of a haunting. Things start small and low key; a moved mug, a slammed door, but build in frequency and intensity as Graham uncovers a potential reason for the presence that has emerged. And all the while he finds that maybe the biggest threat of all is the online ecosystem he is a part of.
Tapping into today’s climate, Death of a Vlogger is an intriguing watch, complete with talking heads that offer context to the wider story around its protagonist. There is an adept understanding of the internet and, separately, horror. There is far less reliance on jump scares here then of a subtly shifting environment that makes the viewer scour the frame for the potential ghost. Proceedings are, mostly, confined to Graham’s flat and it gives an edge of a banal reality to the supernatural goings on. It makes the film all the more endearing and sadder in how the narrative develops.

This film very much belongs to Graham Hughes, who marks himself as a talent to keep an eye on. Hughes directs, writes, produces and edits Death of a Vlogger and is on screen for much of the running time. So it helps that in each area he proves particularly accomplished. As the lead character he gives a complicated performance, leaving the viewer in suspense as to what extent his terror is genuine right until the end moments. The film is a wonderfully ambitious watch, particularly as the haunting develops. Hughes directs and edits with aplomb and it leaves me excited to see what comes next.

​Annabel Logan gives a heartfelt supporting turn that points to the tragedy in the title, while Paddy Kondracki feels suitably insufferable as a not-so-helpful fellow vlogger.  It all hangs together nicely, chilling the viewer whilst offering something more complicated then you’d expect about the real world. There are occasional shortcomings that comes from low-budget indie cinema, but Hughes’ film could teach a thing or two to Hollywood about how to approach the ghost story in a modern-day setting. Here’s to the blossoming of another homegrown horror talent.