Found Friday: V/H/S/ Halloween

“V/H/S/ Halloween” is one of the franchise’s best entries—grisly, inventive, and terrifyingly fun. A perfect October anthology treat.

MORBID MINI: V/H/S/ Halloween is a grisly, gory, and wildly fun anthology that nails tonal consistency. With standout segments like Diet Phantasma, Kidprint, and Home Haunt, it’s one of the franchise’s best—and a perfect October watch.

The V/H/S franchise has always been a strange beast: uneven, anarchic, and wildly unpredictable, but often at its best when it embraces chaos.

With V/H/S/ Halloween, the latest installment in the found-footage anthology, the chaos feels orchestrated into something cohesive and tonally consistent. Unusual for an anthology film, the segments don’t feel like a mixed bag shuffled together. Instead, we get the feeling of an immersive haunted house—each room different, each offering its own flavor of horror, yet all united by the thrill of the season.

This is one of the strongest entries in the franchise to date.

From inventive gore and gnarly practical effects to creatures that feel ripped out of the worst corners of your nightmares, V/H/S/ Halloween delivers a grisly seasonal treat that perfectly captures the spirit of October.

It’s gleefully gory, darkly funny, and pretty close to pitch-perfect across the board.

The anthology is strung together with one of the best wraparounds in the series’ history: Bryan M. Ferguson’s “Diet Phantasma.”

Kicking off the anthology and told in pieces between each short, it follows a group of focus group participants as they test a new diet soda with horrific side effects. It’s funny, grotesque, and pointed in its satirical jab at consumerism and corporate greed.

The effects here are jaw-dropping, ranging from absurd body horror to disturbingly realistic splatter. It’s a wraparound that never overstays its welcome, injecting energy every time it reappears. By the end, it’s clear this isn’t just connective tissue; it’s a full-fledged standout segment that sets the tone for everything that follows.

Anna Zlokovic’s “Coochie Coochie Coo” introduces us to “The Mommy,” a malevolent Halloween urban legend who kidnaps children. The short explodes with relentless, immersive chaos, like stepping into a first-person survival horror video game. The production design is a nightmarish house of horrors, with makeup effects that are jaw-dropping in their grotesquery.

At its core, this short also explores thematic weight: the terror of leaving behind childhood and the ambivalence of becoming an adult. But don’t be fooled; this is pure nightmare fuel, relentless in its pursuit of terror.

Spanish horror maestro Paco Plaza ([REC], Veronica) delivers one of the anthology’s most harrowing offerings with “Ut Supra Sic Infra”. A massacre survivor returns to the crime scene with police in tow, hoping to piece together what happened.

This short trades bombast for unnerving dread. The imagery is stark, the violence shocking, and the atmosphere suffocating. Some may find it slower or less flashy than other segments, but Plaza’s mastery of tone and his unshakable ending make it unforgettable.

Adult Swim comedy legend Casper Kelly (Too Many Cooks, Cheddar Goblin) provides exactly what fans might expect with “Fun Size”: a gonzo, wickedly funny, candy-soaked nightmare. A group of teens ignores a warning to take “only one piece” from a mysterious candy bowl, and the results are deliriously gruesome.

This is the anthology’s tonal sugar rush. It’s gleefully disgusting, outrageous, and ends on a note that’s equal parts hilarious and horrifying. Kelly thrives in finding hysteria in the mundane, and “Fun Size” proves he’s one of horror’s most mischievous tricksters. This will be a favorite segment for many viewers.

But lest you get lulled into a false sense of comfort following Perry’s campy, candy-coated treat, along comes Alex Ross Perry (Her Smell) to hammer home the horror aspect of this wildly effective anthology with “Kidprint”.

He turns a seemingly innocuous concept—child ID tapes sold by a video store—into something deeply sinister. The short spirals into one of the anthology’s darkest and most disturbing offerings, dragging viewers into a nightmare of loss, vulnerability, and irreversible violation.

There are no sacred cows here. Children are placed in jeopardy, and the results are as brutal as they are effective. It’s the rare short that doesn’t just scare but haunts, lingering long after the credits.

Micheline Pitt-Norman & R.H. Norman close the film with “Home Haunt”, a segment that feels like the ultimate Halloween blowout. A family’s DIY haunted house goes spectacularly wrong when a cursed LP animates its monsters. The segment escalates into absolute pandemonium, delivering outrageous practical effects and one of the anthology’s most satisfying finales.

It’s playful, it’s grotesque, and it’s exactly how an anthology like this should end: with the kind of over-the-top climax that leaves you grinning even as you squirm.

V/H/S/ Halloween is an anthology firing on all cylinders.

It’s consistent, inventive, and relentlessly entertaining. Every short feels like a contender for “best of the bunch,” and even the ones that don’t land as hard still swing for the fences with style.

Yes, it’s gore-soaked and unrelenting, and if you’re not into practical splatter, some of this may feel excessive. But for horror fans—especially gorehounds—it’s a deliriously fun, grisly, and thematically sharp entry. Most importantly, it nails the Halloween vibe better than any anthology in years.

This isn’t just another V/H/S film; it’s a Halloween tradition in the making.