This horror drama isn’t built on cheap scares; it’s about survival and the weight of feeling the world is against you. Some details are best left vague for those awaiting its VOD release, but after its FrightFest premiere, there’s every chance it’ll be fast-tracked for the spooky season.
What’s most compelling is the film’s exploration of masks. They don’t just conceal; they reveal hidden selves. Whether it’s the clown, pumpkinhead, ghost, sheep, or Founders’ Day masks, each carries symbolism rooted in folklore and literature. They say something about the wearer, even when what’s underneath remains uncertain. The result isn’t always outright terrifying, but it is haunting—reminiscent of Season of the Witch, though distinct in its own chilling way. Although the second act is slow to build on this, anyone willing to sit through this part will be in for a ride!
Bender delivers a powerful performance, charting Olivia’s journey from victim to observer to participant, as she wrestles with the darker parts of herself. There’s tension in every shift, and the film keeps you questioning whether her choices are right—or even survivable.
Adding to the unease is Curtis (Jake Weber), the cult leader whose calm authority has shades of a fallen Jedi. My comparison is deliberate: his Qui-Gon Jinn–like presence twisted toward menace makes him both magnetic and unnerving. His involvement with Olivia’s mother deepens the drama, and his behaviour speaks volumes without the film needing to oversell it.
Watching Self Help, I was reminded of Peter Weller’s thoughtful discussions on Renaissance art and symbolism that I heard years ago at Fan Expo Vancouver. That perspective came flooding back while seeing the film, helping me appreciate how masks in the story explore identity, hidden selves, and survival—even if Weller’s research wasn’t specific about this disguise, the ideas about this aspect of cosplay and use in comic book lore felt surprisingly relevant.
Ultimately, Self Help isn’t your standard slasher. It avoids splatter in favour of character-driven tension, and that’s to its credit. The mask metaphor gives it depth, the performances keep it taut, and the folklore undercurrent adds bite. For those who want more than blood and body counts this Halloween, Bloomquist offers a thoughtful and chilling alternative.
4 Stars out of 5
Self Help Trailer
