Last night I leaned into spooky season with Tombs of the Blind Dead at SIFF Uptown, part of their “Scarecrowber” series — and honestly, it was everything I love about cult horror. There’s something oddly hypnotic about 1970s horror when it leans into atmosphere instead of jump scares. The film moves like a nightmare: slow, deliberate, full of dread that seeps in under your skin.
What fascinated me most was the sheer mood of it — the crumbling ruins, the silence that hums louder than any soundtrack, and those eerie, undead Templar knights rising from their graves. Watching it on the big screen with an audience who clearly appreciated the grain and grit of vintage horror made it even better. It’s campy, yes, but also genuinely unsettling in a way that lingers. A perfect October night in Seattle — fog outside, fear inside, and a crowd that gasped and laughed together through every dusty resurrection.
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