Haunt movies have become a bigger part of the horror landscape over the last few years. Films like Haunt, Hurt, and Hellfest have all been relatively successful in providing scares that make us question the sadism of the people providing our fear, especially when we clamor for more, holding the belief that everything we’re witnessing is safe and on the level. That may explain my almost instant allure to Keith Boynton’s The Haunted Forest. These films are typically loaded with gimmicky scares and characters suppressing their fears, which often leads to panic and chaos when they discover their next. There really isn’t anything quite like a haunt film.

Holding its World Premiere at FrightFest, The Haunted Forest beckons with some beautiful poster art of our protagonist Zach (Grayson Gwaze) in the center wearing the skeleton makeup from the film’s first Haunt sequence, surrounded by other characters, killers, and carnival rides, with a dueling light and dark notion in cold and warm hues. It may only be August, but it had me jonesing pretty hard for apple cider and haunted hayride.

In the film, Zach is drawn to the macabre, spending his time doodling zombies and masked killers, waiting for his Friday afternoons to head to his cousin Mark’s (Cedric Gegel) house to have the best October weekend before the one next week. Mark runs Markoff’s Haunted Forest, and his well-being depends on the theme park’s ability to make money over spooky season. Zach quickly becomes infatuated with makeup artist Sarah (Kaitlyn Lunardi), and the two begin seeing each other. To say Zach is living the dream is pretty accurate, until things start to go south and people begin leaving the park hurt, if they manage to leave the park at all.

The angle with The Haunted Forest is an interesting one, to say the least. Where fans of haunt films will have their obvious expectations, Boynton doesn’t proceed. Instead, the director offers a more dramatic prose against developing a bloodlust film. Zach begins to have trouble sleeping at night, causing it to affect his schoolwork so much that his friend Carly (Meghan Reed) begins taking notice. As the accidents at The Haunted Forest begin to grow, so does Zach’s fear of what or who may be next.

Boynton’s mystery is far from the jumpscare-addled gorefest I and others may have thought they’d be getting. While I respect the surprising avenues the film thematically travels, I’m unsure that it leads to a good overall experience.

Many moving pieces within The Haunted Forest lead to a compelling exploration of romanticized violence. As Zach tries to put the pieces of what he’s seen and heard together, unlocking the clues necessary to reveal the killer, his violent imagination begins to torment him with the gruesome and deadly events that he’s been surrounded by. Suddenly, this creative idea to terrorize customers of the haunt or create violent comic book doodles becomes less appealing because of his proximity to the victims. Meanwhile, the surrounding community is energized by the bad press, and it doesn’t stop Zach from donning a costume and putting on the makeup week after week. Perhaps that also speaks to work culture and the little bit of PTSD we’re all feeling in a post-COVID society.

That idea of romanticized violence comes in a variety of forms within Boynton’s film, including stories regarding the indigenous peoples who once resided on the land, bridging a ghost story within The Haunted Forest, creating lore and atmosphere while speaking to the harm of whitewashed history. It’s no secret that the past is often rewritten by the winners. Yet, it’s frequently that disrespect for the past that also restarts cycles of violence and hate, an idea symbolized by a specific artifact within the film that connects to the concept of traversing a haunted labyrinth magnificently, and adds plenty of unique modern commentary as well.

Subtextually, The Haunted Forest is written well, well enough for me to want to get a better understanding of the man behind the camera. After viewing, I took in Boynton’s 2021 Lili Taylor-led drama, The Winter House, to get a better sense of the director. I saw a lot of the same patience and excellent dialogue, with The Winter House inexorably lending itself to some beautiful cinematography. That’s not to say that aspect isn’t present within The Haunted Forest, it’s just not nearly as effortless. But what I noticed most between both films were their story elements, and the difficult connective tissue that adjoins transitions, particularly in each film’s finale. It’s set up to work slightly better in The Winter House, whereas The Haunted Forest winds up feeling rushed at the end, despite the building setup.

The Haunted Forest is Boynton’s first horror feature, but it doesn’t always outwardly feel like a horror movie. Don’t get me wrong, it’s oozing with whodunnit veracity and a cast of characters waiting for you to point your finger toward. However, the brief reset scenes between Zach’s time at The Haunted Forest seem to chew up pace and atmosphere. First, they reset the rising action with established scare tactics, such as the comic book doodles, that don’t affect the plot, then we’re stuck with mundane moments while wanting more spectacle. I get that this is the point Boynton is trying for, but it provides a difficult tempo. This also has an effect on the fine work by composer Will Clarke, whose wielding score is understated throughout, but often feels sidelined in crafting something surreal and moody. The final act plays especially strange, as another character vying for Zach’s affection raises concerns of plot contrivances.

While bountiful in production value and brimming with young talent (I genuinely believe Grayson Gwaze is bound for big things), The Haunted Forest still misses the mark. It’s a clever study in subversive horror, but it never pops in a way that satisfies the film’s surface-level story beneficially. Though Boynton is trying to explore the allure of horror films, he somehow obscures the message along the way. The Haunted Forest is a bold undertaking, one that, in some ways, I was still happy to see as an indie horror fan, even if many other mixed emotions complicate that happiness.