What criteria did you take into consideration when selecting the films for this section of the festival? What unites them beyond their classification as horror, thriller, or fantasy?
For me, it’s crucial to choose films that fascinate me and whose characters stay with me long after watching, and I believe this year’s selection achieved that very well. All the stories have strong female characters and very relatable themes – issues that resonate with everyday life. For example, in Sister Midnight, the protagonist is a complex woman navigating personal and societal challenges in a way that’s both vulnerable and powerful. The Ugly Stepsister subverts classic fairy tale tropes by focusing on a female character who confronts prejudice and self-acceptance. Noise features a woman dealing with the anxieties of urban life and isolation, portraying resilience in the face of invisible struggles.
We see a remarkable geographical diversity in this year’s selection — from South Korea to Ireland, Belgium, Spain, and the Nordic countries. How do different cultural perspectives influence the way fear or tension is constructed in these films?
Different cultural contexts shape not only the themes but also the emotional resonance of the fantastic. For instance, South Korean cinema often builds tension through social critique – fear emerges from deeply human conflicts like inequality, familial pressure, or moral ambiguity. What I find particularly striking are the quiet tones in these stories: they can be surprisingly cruel and far louder than one might expect, leaving a lasting, unsettling impact. Films from the Nordic countries tend to evoke dread through atmosphere and isolation, drawing on their vast, often unforgiving landscapes. Irish or Spanish works might weave in folklore and superstition, connecting the fantastic to centuries-old traditions that still feel hauntingly relevant today. Belgian cinema, meanwhile, often leans into true crime elements, blending realism with the uncanny in ways that make the fantastic feel disturbingly close to reality. If I had to choose, I find the South Korean perspective particularly compelling at the moment. The way Korean filmmakers intertwine genre elements with societal commentary produces layered narratives where fear isn’t just external – it’s rooted in structures of everyday life. It feels both immediate and universal.
What would you say to viewers who may not be big fans of horror but are curious?
I’d recommend starting with Sister Midnight, an Indian-Swedish-UK co-production. It’s unlike anything you’ve probably seen before – highly entertaining and visually striking, with cinematography on a very high level that really draws you in. If you’re interested in true crime and enjoy true crime podcasts, then Maldoror would be a great pick. It blends elements of horror with real-world darkness in a way that’s both compelling and thought-provoking.
Which of the films in this edition surprised you the most, and why?
All seven films in this year’s section genuinely surprised me in their own way – that’s precisely why they made it into the final selection. Each of them managed to stand out and challenge my expectations in different aspects, but I believe Maldoror will especially spark a lot of conversation after the festival.
Some of the selected films use horror as a way to comment on social issues. How important is it for you that these films also include a symbolic or critical dimension?
That symbolic or critical dimension is what elevates these films beyond entertainment. Genre cinema has a unique power to engage with social issues in ways that feel immediate, emotional, and thought-provoking. In this year’s Full Moon selection, I think every film demonstrates that potential: A Whale offers a surreal lens on isolation and disconnection, The Home reflects on care and neglect in society, Frewaka brings forward questions of guilt and tradition, Maldoror explores the darkness lurking beneath human nature, Sister Midnight looks at marginalization, The Ugly Stepsister subverts familiar narratives to confront prejudice, and Noise captures the anxieties of modern urban life.
How has the horror genre evolved in recent years? Are there any emerging trends in terms of style or subject matter?
It has evolved significantly, expanding far beyond traditional jump scares and monster tales. We’re seeing a growing emphasis on psychological depth, social critique, and genre blending. Stylistically, there’s a noticeable trend towards more atmospheric and slow-burning narratives, where tension builds subtly rather than relying on immediate shocks. At the same time, some directors experiment boldly with visuals and storytelling structures (A Whale), creating films that challenge conventional expectations (Sister Midnight). Another emerging trend is the global diversification of horror voices — stories from different cultures bring fresh perspectives and new mythologies (Freewaka), enriching the genre with a wider range of fears and anxieties.
Why do you think audiences remain so fascinated by supernatural or macabre stories? What do these films offer us beyond thrills and scares?
I believe genre films offer so much more than that. In fact, they’re often among the first – alongside documentaries – to address urgent and relevant issues, giving us new perspectives on the world around us. They allow us to reflect on our fears, hopes, and uncertainties through the lens of the fantastic. At the same time, we enjoy the thrill itself – it’s a release, a bit like riding a rollercoaster. That moment of tension followed by relief lets us experience fear in a safe space and, for a brief time, break free from everyday routines.