Fantastic Fest 2026 Review: PLAY HOUSE is a Sturdy House of Horrors

Nicolas Curcio does not, as they say, throw away his shot. Play House is the product of Fantastic Fest's inaugural Fantastic Pitches, where Curcio took top honors. The result is an effectively chilling commentary on the housing market (among oodles more), featuring felt puppets, black mold, and psychic realators. James Urbaniak slam-dunks Creepypasta vibes as a VHS Mr. Rogers type, but this isn't a Buddy or Mr. Crocket rewrite. Curcio and co-writer Kirby Gladstein blend true-crime tension, incinerated innocence, and cursed video tapes while maintaining balance—congratulations are in order.

Wayward Elliot (Will Harrison) is in a rut. He's currently in a no-contact zone with ex-girlfriend Cath (Jessica Sula), his mother just passed, and out of his plentiful hobbies, he’s a master of none. So Elliot does what any quarter-life-crisis person would do: buy a dilapidated SoCal fixer-upper that's been rotting for decades. In Elliot's mind, his choice represents commitment and responsibility—perhaps winning Cath back. Instead, under his clanky water heater, he finds numbered video tapes of a children's show no one's heard of that gets more unsettling with each episode: Mr. Morton's (James Urbaniak) Monster Alley.

What's fun about Play House is how Curcio finds a fearful entry point to scenes no matter the approach. They're jabs versus haymakers, yet the lighter punches keep momentum rolling. Whether it's a ghostly image in basement shadows, a quick creature peek, or Urbaniak's forced smile as Monster Alley turns sinister, Play House stays frightening. It's a shapeshifter in that way; the film's horrors are flexible and on rotation. That mirrors Elliot's journey and the overall story, since we're not quite sure what teases will give way to the next act's overlay.

Curcio and Gladstein's screenplay is a bowl of gloomy millennial gumbo: the Boomer-directed zingers; Reddit hole fascinations; YouTuber celebrity personalities; lost media whimsy. Elliot's influencer best friend (played by Jordan Gonzalez) literally "Parent Traps" Cath and his boy at one point, flexing the film's comedy chops—minutes before the film's heart-stopping pivot. It's the true millennial experience, wading through life's hopelessness with bad puns and momentary escapes. That's how Elliot can see beauty in an affordable home covered in fungus; rugs still rank with mildew and squatter stench. In more ways than one, Elliot is left to clean up the mess left behind by past generations—the core distress of Play House.

But in terms of genre unease, that's stoked by Monster Alley. It's not just about Urbaniak's plastered-on smile, playing squeaky-clean for the camera. His hand puppets appear homemade; Lamb Chop's Graveyard Play-Along, in a way. But worst of all, the children's voices off-screen playing each character carry a whimpering fearfulness, like they're being held at gunpoint. Zieke the Zombie with an exposed brain; Buttons the Clown and his bloody, dangling eyeball; Grinner's Slimer-like appearance and smile; Shelley Skeleton's crudely applied face; there's a deadness to Mr. Morton's supporting cast that greatly accentuates his plucky and inorganic facade—the setup before Monster Alley invades Elliot's actual life.

What's enjoyable about Play House is how its spine-tingling moments are never easy to predict. Sure, Elliot and Cath's rekindling as they renovate his dingy abode is rom-com sappy. Elliot needs something wholesome to protect, and Harrison's charming Average Los Angeles Guy affability is easy to root for. But as far as Monster Alley, Mr. Morton, and the obvious nefariousness of his never-before-seen television show (of not even public-access quality), Curcio keeps us guessing as to which route horrors will follow. Glimmers of everything from The Black Phone to The 'Burbs to Sinister to Momo pull Elliot in different directions until the third act crystallizes.

However, Play House's mix-and-match quality does feel indebted to its comparison points. That's beyond playtime purgatories where children's hosts turn out to be psychopaths or demons. Transparent figures have been seen before; Elliot's puppy-dog sense of disillusionment is run-of-the-mill. Even Monster Alley's childhood-lost quality feels routinely familiar, perhaps only because we're in an influx of such titles. Not to say Curcio is a copycat; far from it. But it's hard not to recognize setups that have been notably executed prior, and still feel the same overloads of enthusiasm.

All said, Play House isn't playing around. Curcio's feature directorial debut has solid bones and bumps all through the night. There's a home-sweet-home quality that nestles under our skin; a despicable ruse. Urbaniak is a memorable bastard; a Captain Kangaroo wannabe at his most desperate and deranged. But through it all, the mixed-media seediness and interpersonal conflicts, Play House stays composed and unflappable in its mission: to scare the heck out of audiences.

Movie Score: 3.5/5