V/H/S/MIXTAPE (2026)

Studio:   Shudder
Director: Various
Writer:   Various
Producer: Roy Lee, Steven Schneider, Josh Goldbloom, Brad Miska, Michael Schreiber
Stars:    Various

Review Score:


Summary:

Shocking videos document murder, paranormal possession, revenge, and cosmic creatures in six stories involving macabre music.


Synopsis:     

Review:

After 2025’s “V/H/S/Halloween” (review here) hit a high in quality and critical reception that the anthology series hadn’t seen in a decade, 2026’s “V/H/S/Mixtape” induces whiplash by furiously shoving the long-running franchise back in the opposite direction. “Worst” is too subjective a term for a broad declaration about this movie’s rank among other “V/H/S” entries. Instead, more people might concede “Mixtape” is at least the sloppiest and schlockiest in both conception and execution.

In keeping with the very, very loose theme of music connecting this batch of shorts, Grodius Maximus of the “shock rock” group Gwar bursts onscreen for the first bumper, which isn’t a real wraparound, but rather a bunch of unrelated skits featuring the band’s various metalhead monster personalities. Grodius starts by saying, “We’re here jacking off in my mom’s room today” and introducing a zipper-masked gimp with, “I’m borrowing my mom’s butt boy.” Next, Grodius masturbates to “Mama’s titties” until he ejaculates green goo that brings a drawing of a hot dog to life. Grodius then says, “It’s covered in my cum, that’s kinda gross, I like that” before taking a big bite out of the bun.

All of this happens in the film’s first 60 seconds and that’s only the beginning of the grotesqueries Gwar has in store for their intrusive interstitials. During the next 60 seconds, Mama puts a gun to her head and blows her brains all over the wall because she’s upset the “boys are jacking off” without her.

I get that Gwar’s gimmick has always involved cartoonish yet extreme violence and pornographic parody. But fans who attend their shows choose to opt in to that experience. Gwar is still a niche novelty act. Forcing their brand of “humor,” which includes creature penises shooting neon fluids along with suicide as crass comedy, into the faces of general audiences is an aggressive way of alienating viewers right from the top.

The main movie gets going with “Dance, Dance, Dance, Dance.” It features genre mainstay Barbara Crampton overplaying the part of a stereotypical studio executive who plans to carelessly cannibalize an old children’s show by rebooting beloved puppets with digital animation. It also features puppets created by Jim Henson’s Creature Shop, although I’m not sure anyone would guess that based on how unmemorable the four main designs are. A predictable piece where these puppets come alive to kill the new producers, “Dance, Dance, Dance, Dance” would be average enough for an “it’s fine” if not for the muffled audio and poor video resulting from being shot on something that apparently fit in the palm of one person’s hand.

From the moment its title appears to the moment the movie moves to Gwar’s next bizarre but boring bit, “Another Cabin” lasts just two minutes and 40 seconds. Directed by Flying Lotus, this surreal sequence where a massive monster terrorizes a boy in the forest boasts eye-catching animation. This glancing blow also comes and goes so quickly, once you slog through the next hour and change, you might forget it ever brushed by your face.

“Heartbeat” centers on one of modern moviedom’s most overused and annoying character types: content creators. This particular pairing even unironically says, “Hit Subscribe, smash that Like button, and come along with us” before proceeding through a nondescript forest, then into an abandoned building, for a shaky cam jaunt. “Heartbeat” manages to squeeze out a genuinely claustrophobic moment or two, but if we’re still doing haunted building “found footage” in 2026, there has to be more to it than merely that moment or two.

Ernest Dickerson retells H.P. Lovecraft’s “The Music of Erich Zann,” practically beat for beat until the finale, with “The Music of Mr. Sze.” With its macabre montage of cultists, colossal creatures, and other eldritch evils, this segment comes close to inarguably qualifying as the highlight of “V/H/S/Mixtape.” Then it becomes a lowlight because Dickerson kneecaps the trippy chills of cosmic horror by populating his piece with sitcom sidekicks.

I had mostly shrugged off repeatedly silly sights like Mr. Sze’s series of worsening wigs and a clownlike landlady dressed as though she’s auditioning for the circus. Then after “The Music of Mr. Sze” hits its peak of otherworldly atmosphere, Dickerson again upends the eeriness by having the landlady return to shriek in a green Munster facemask with her hair done up in curlers. Whatever the idea was here, Dickerson’s bizarre directorial decisions murder what could have been a consistently unsettling mood.

“Premature Burial” is just a music video for the same-named song by a band called Repugnant off their album titled “Epitome of Darkness.” That title is misspelled onscreen as “Repitome of Darkness” in what is either a proofreading mistake or, well, I don’t know why else someone would have added an R. “Premature Burial” at least tells a visual story while the song plays. It also fulfills the first part of the film’s tagline, “low fidelity, high body count,” by being shot so shoddily, this might be the closet recreation of a retro MTV Headbanger’s Ball clip since it looks like you’re watching it off a tape of a tape playing on a 40-year-old tube TV.

Relative to the largely underwhelming segments that precede it, “V/H/S/Mixtape” finishes with its strongest short by default. RZA’s “Death Tone” chronicles a grieving girl following occult instructions to essentially “Evil Dead” her music producer father back from the grave. Once again though, gruesome shots of gory deaths such as exposed tendons played with a violin bow or a man’s spine pulled apart are compromised by cheapness in other areas. Sets such as a bar and a couple of street corners look like they were staged in the same small space as the main music studio. Then there’s the hard-to-ignore absurdity of a detective, who executes a search warrant with no other police officers present, being played by someone who almost certainly gets carded when buying beer.

Horror movies have an unfortunate history of rolling end credits over obnoxious garage metal songs. But the one that concludes “V/H/S/Mixtape” is such a chainsaw in the ear, the movie lands one last thud that reinforces the impression of a film that wants to be badass when it’s really just a loud lump of noise. Had I seen this movie in a theater, I would have had to exit immediately while plugging my ears in pain. Others likely would have done the same, although judging by many unimpressed reactions, their hasty escapes might have had more to do with clunky content than one unlistenable song.

NOTE: There is a post-credits scene.

Review Score: 40