Oddity — The Damn Doll That Scares No One (But Almost Does)

'''''''''''''''tweets_alternativos:'''''''''''''''

• "Damian McCarthy (@damian_mccarthy) dirige Oddity como si fuera un combate de boxeo: golpes bajos, algún uppercut brillante y un final que sabe a KO técnico. @KeeperPics @NowhereFilms"
• "Carolyn Bracken (@carolynbracken) en Oddity: una actuación que hace que ese maniquí de madera parezca el único personaje cuerdo de la película. Respetable, pero no invencible. #TerrorIrlandes"
• "Oddity: 98 minutos de atmósfera densa, un maniquí que da más pena que miedo y un guion que se enreda en su propia madeja. @ClaquetaAcida le da un 7/10: aprobado, pero con moratones."

I left the theater feeling like I’d just witnessed a boxing match where the favorite spent the first few rounds dancing on the canvas. Oddity isn’t a film that knocks you out right away, but it lands some precise jabs, a few unexpected uppercuts, and an ending that, while it doesn’t leave you flat on the mat, does make you wobble. Damian McCarthy, director and screenwriter, steps into the ring with an Irish horror offering that reeks of old wood, basement damp, and the kind of quirks that genre festivals adore but mainstream audiences eye with suspicion. It’s not Hereditary, nor does it need to be. It’s smaller, more intimate, more... Irish. And in a genre oversaturated with jump scares and demonic possessions, that’s a feat in itself.

The problem is McCarthy seems more interested in crafting atmosphere than telling a story. And damn, does he succeed. From the first frame, Oddity wraps you in a thick fog of mystery, with Colm Hogan’s cinematography turning every shot into a tenebrist painting. Dark interiors, misty exteriors, faces lit by candles or the dim glow of a lamp—everything is calculated to make you feel like you’re inside a fever dream. Or a nightmare. But here comes the first liver shot: the film moves like it’s got lead in its gloves. The first 40 minutes are an exercise in patience, a setup that takes its sweet time introducing Darcy (Carolyn Bracken), the blind medium still obsessed with her twin sister’s death. And while Bracken delivers a remarkable performance—hands down the best thing in the film—the script forces her to run in circles, repeating dialogue and situations as if McCarthy’s afraid to hit the gas.

The wooden dummy, that oddity of the title, is the element that should be terrifying but ends up being the most pathetic member of the cast. It’s not the production design’s fault—it’s impeccable. The figure has the vibe of those old ventriloquist dummies, with glassy eyes and a grin carved by someone with a wicked sense of humor. The problem is McCarthy doesn’t know what to do with it. Sometimes it feels like a supernatural MacGuffin, other times like mere set dressing, and in the key moments... well, let’s just say the dummy has less presence than a Marvel extra. There’s a moment where Darcy interacts with it in a long take that should be chilling but ends up feeling more ridiculous than anything. It’s not a technical flaw—the shot’s well-executed—but a conceptual one. It’s as if McCarthy had watched too many horror films and decided what mattered wasn’t scaring you but appearing to scare you.

Where Oddity does land a punch is in its sound. The sound design is a goddamn marvel, a symphony of creaks, whispers, and sharp knocks that raise the hairs on the back of your neck. There’s a scene where Darcy’s at home and we hear noises upstairs. No music, just silence and the sound of dragging footsteps. Those seconds of tension are the best the film has to offer, proving McCarthy knows how to play with primal fear—the kind born from what you don’t see. The score by Steve Lynch also deserves praise, with minimalist chords and the occasional string stab that feels ripped from a Hitchcock film. But, like everything in Oddity, even the good has its dark side: the music sometimes blares too loud, as if Lynch’s afraid we won’t hear it, and ends up shattering the atmosphere McCarthy worked so hard to build.

Direction and staging: Damian McCarthy’s ring

McCarthy directs Oddity like he’s in a boxing match against boredom. He knows he can’t win by KO, so he opts for a war of attrition: lots of small jabs, the occasional straight to the chin, and the hope the audience doesn’t doze off before the final round. His greatest virtue is patience. He’s in no rush to tell the story, and it shows in the film’s slow, almost contemplative pace. But it’s also his biggest flaw, because there are moments when that patience turns into self-indulgence. McCarthy falls in love with his own shots, his careful framing, his slow transitions, and forgets that a horror film—no matter how artsy—needs to move. There’s a scene where Darcy walks through her house with a flashlight, illuminating objects and walls like she’s searching for something. The shot lasts long enough for you to wonder if McCarthy’s trying to pay homage to The Blair Witch Project or if he just forgot to cut.

The script is Oddity’s weakest link. McCarthy writes dialogue that sounds natural but sometimes falls into repetition. Darcy spends most of the film talking about her dead sister, her blindness, her wooden dummy... and while Bracken does an incredible job with the material, there are moments when you feel like you’re watching the same episode of a TV show on loop. The problem isn’t a lack of ideas but the execution. McCarthy has an interesting premise—a blind medium who uses a dummy to communicate with the dead—but he doesn’t know how to develop it without falling into clichés. The third act, for example, is a mess of predictable twists and rushed resolutions. It’s as if McCarthy decided it was time to wrap things up and just threw a handful of ideas at the screen without worrying about how they fit.

Performances: Carolyn Bracken takes the belt

If Oddity works at all, it’s thanks to Carolyn Bracken. Her portrayal of Darcy is the only thing keeping the film on its feet when the script starts to wobble. Bracken doesn’t just sell the blind woman act—something that’s hard enough on its own—but also gives her character a depth the script doesn’t always deserve. There’s a scene where Darcy sits on a couch, listening to a recording of her sister, and Bracken conveys so much pain with so little that it’s impossible not to feel it. It’s not a grandiose performance, full of screams and tears, but the opposite: restrained, almost minimalist, and that’s why it hurts so much. Gwilym Lee, known for his role in Bohemian Rhapsody, turns in a decent performance as Darcy’s love interest, but his character is so flat he might as well have been plucked from a 90s TV movie. Steve Wall and Joe Rooney provide some comic relief, but their characters are so cartoonish they end up breaking the atmosphere McCarthy worked so hard to build.

The best

• Carolyn Bracken’s performance: A sober, moving turn that elevates every scene she’s in. Bracken doesn’t just sell Darcy’s blindness—she gives her a humanity the script often lacks.

The sound design: A masterclass in psychological horror. The creaks, whispers, and sharp knocks raise the hairs on your neck and prove fear is born from what you don’t* see.

• Colm Hogan’s cinematography: Every frame looks like it’s been lifted from a tenebrist painting. The play of light and shadow, the dark interiors, the misty exteriors—it all creates an oppressive atmosphere that envelops you from the first shot.
• Steve Lynch’s score: Minimalist chords and string stabs that channel the best of Hitchcock. Though it sometimes blares too loud, the music perfectly matches the film’s tone.

The worst

The wooden dummy: It should* be the most terrifying element in the film but ends up being the most pathetic. McCarthy doesn’t know what to do with it, and its presence is more confusing than chilling.
The slow pace: The first 40 minutes are an exercise in patience. McCarthy falls in love with his own atmosphere and forgets horror films need to move*.

• The script: Repetitive dialogue, a rushed third act, and predictable twists. McCarthy has an interesting idea but doesn’t know how to develop it without falling into clichés.


• The supporting characters: Gwilym Lee, Steve Wall, and Joe Rooney are wasted. Their characters are flat, cartoonish, and shatter the atmosphere it took so long to build.

The Verdict of Claqueta Ácida

Oddity is like a boxer who makes it to the final round with more bruises than glory. Damian McCarthy delivers an Irish horror film with more style than scares, more atmosphere than narrative, and more good intentions than hits. Carolyn Bracken saves the day with a performance that deserves a belt, but the script trips over its own wooden dummy and ends up on the mat. It’s not a masterpiece, nor does it need to be, but it has enough brilliant moments to recommend it to fans of slow, atmospheric horror. That said, if you’re looking for jump scares that’ll make you scream like a maniac, stay home and watch insidious-la-puerta-roja" class="text-amber-400 font-black hover:text-amber-300 transition underline decoration-amber-500/40 hover:decoration-amber-300" title="[6.5/10 ⚡ Ácido Cítrico] Lee nuestra autopsia de «Insidious»" data-acid-interlink="insidious-la-puerta-roja">insidious" class="text-amber-400 font-black hover:text-amber-300 transition underline decoration-amber-500/40 hover:decoration-amber-300" title="[7.2/10 ⚡ Ácido Cítrico] Lee nuestra autopsia de «Insidious»" data-acid-interlink="insidious">insidious-fuera-del-mas-alla" class="text-amber-400 font-black hover:text-amber-300 transition underline decoration-amber-500/40 hover:decoration-amber-300" title="[6.8/10 ⚡ Ácido Cítrico] Lee nuestra autopsia de «Insidious»" data-acid-interlink="insidious-fuera-del-mas-alla">Insidious. The only thing that’ll knock you out here is sleep. 💀

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Ficha de Daños Colaterales en Sala

Certificado de impacto psicofísico emitido por Camilo K.O.

⚡ Desgaste Moderado

🥱 Bostezómetro

1 amago en el tramo intermedio; pestañeo pesado en las transiciones más innecesarias.

⏱️ Miradas de Pánico al Reloj

Minuto 36 y minuto 70 (comprobando cuánto quedaba de suplicio).

😬 Índice de Cringe Ajeno 0.9/10

☕ Prescripción Terapéutica

2 espressos para no dejarse vencer por la mediocridad cómoda.

💥 Punto de Descarrilamiento

"A mitad del segundo acto cuando la subtrama secundaria empezó a pesar más de lo que aportaba."