Movie Review: Posthouse

Posthouse is a chilling, atmospheric entry in contemporary Filipino horror—one that leans heavily on mood, memory, and metaphor rather than cheap scares. Directed with a clear reverence for cinema’s past, the film blends folklore, generational trauma, and the lost history of Filipino silent films into a haunting, introspective experience.

The story follows Cyril (Sid Lucero), a troubled film editor estranged from his daughter Rea (Bea Binene). While restoring an incomplete and allegedly cursed silent horror film from the 1920s, the two unknowingly unleash a malevolent manananggal. What begins as an act of preservation slowly becomes an excavation of buried pain, as the film-within-a-film mirrors Cyril’s unresolved trauma from childhood.

What makes Posthouse compelling is how its horror operates on both literal and symbolic levels. The silent film Cyril watches and restores gradually reveals itself as a reflection of his past—a home invasion that claimed his father’s life and fractured his family. The manananggal, in this sense, is not merely a folkloric monster but a manifestation of Cyril’s lifelong fear, grief, and guilt. The original silent film’s narrative about a family terrorized by a manananggal echoes this trauma, reinforcing the idea that the true curse being passed down is emotional and generational.

Visually, the film is striking. Its atmospheric cinematography and deliberate pacing evoke nostalgia with a chill, serving as a clear homage to lost silent horror cinema. The vintage, brick-walled locations are particularly effective—creepy yet stylish, lending the film an unsettling, almost timeless quality. Sid Lucero delivers a strong, restrained performance, grounding the film’s heavy themes with emotional weight and credibility.

While the film does drag slightly in the middle, its stylistic confidence and thoughtful approach will likely resonate with viewers who appreciate art-house horror. Posthouse may not cater to everyone, but for those drawn to slow-burn, symbolic storytelling, it is a rewarding experience. 

Fresh, distinct, and quietly haunting, Posthouse stands as a promising new take on Filipino horror—one that honors the past while confronting the monsters we inherit and carry within us.

My Verdict: 3.5/5