The Haunted Forest blends retro horror with authentic atmosphere, filmed at Maryland’s iconic Markoff’s Haunted Forest. By combining 80s-inspired scares with modern storytelling, it delivers suspense, mystery, and a chilling Halloween vibe that horror fans won’t want to miss.
This movie made it’s world premiere at FrightFest Film Festival in London on August 23rd.
When Keith Boynton’s The Haunted Forest goes beyond honouring classic horror tropes from the 1980s and earlier, it becomes more than just a tribute to the era; what’s offered is a welcome surprise. The faux introduction instantly sets a nostalgic tone, recalling vintage drive-in B-movies. It also primes viewers for a chilling tale unfolding in the days leading up to Halloween, where the biggest mystery is: who’s hiding behind the mask in this slasher film throwback?
That sense of mystery extends into the real-world backdrop, which feels just as much a character as the cast itself. Even more compelling is the decision to film at Markoff’s Haunted Forest in Poolesville, Maryland—an iconic haunted attraction that adds authenticity and atmosphere. It’s easy to imagine horror fans booking tickets after seeing how immersive this setting is. Yet, the film never feels like a commercial; instead, it fully earns its eerie tone.
The Matt Rife Haunted Museum is reopening the infamous Warren collection to the public—but is it spiritual stewardship or a paranormal publicity stunt? This article explores the ethical questions behind haunted attractions, dark tourism, and belief turned into business.
The Ed and Lorraine Warren Occult Museum—long shuttered and steeped in controversy—is reopening, and not everyone is pleased. It may well be called the Matt Rife Haunted Museum from now on. He and YouTuber Elton Castee have acquired the Warrens’ former home and infamous collection of allegedly haunted objects. Whether they’ll actually spend much time there is unclear, but what’s known is their plan to invite guests to stay overnight—a move that’s sparked swift and polarized reactions across social media and Reddit. The whole affair feels less like spiritual stewardship and more like Night at the Museum meets reality TV, raising a critical question: when belief becomes business, who pays the price?
Some celebrate the return of a nostalgic destination; others—especially the spiritually inclined—see a reckless publicity stunt. This revival raises a larger question: what happens when belief becomes a business? When haunted places turn into entertainment, ethical lines blur. If spirits act up, who is responsible? This article explores the ethics of paranormal tourism, examining belief, exploitation, and the risks of turning the supernatural into a commercial venture.
The Power of Belief
For many, haunted spaces aren’t mere curiosities—they are sacred places only the brave or curious dare enter. Proper public investigations require waivers to limit venue liability, and insurance is essential. Even in the absence of physical harm, these places can affect visitors mentally and emotionally. The line between psychological suggestion and spiritual threat is thin. Zak Bagans’ Haunted Museum in Las Vegas requires waivers, signaling either genuine caution or clever marketing. Whether for liability or atmosphere, it acknowledges risk.
Rife’s museum has yet to implement such precautions, raising questions about accountability. This split mirrors public opinion. Some view the Warrens’ collection as spiritually volatile; others dismiss it as theatrics. That divide depends on belief: a 2023 survey found 61.4% of Americans believe in ghosts, and 67% report personal encounters. Belief creates demand—and with it, risk.
What’s Driving the Acquisition?
Rife claims a lifelong obsession with ghost hunting. On The Joe Rogan Experience episode #2033, he said, “I have definitely witnessed things that, for the life of me, I cannot explain.” (also available on YouTube) Yet his focus seems more psychological than spiritual. Discussing death and psychedelic experiences, he speculated, “That’s probably what happens in death,” showing fascination rather than faith. His project could evolve into interactive reality TV, capitalizing on guests’ reactions and shared fear. This risks reducing belief to spectacle, treating haunted spaces as mere props. Though Rife likely means no harm, his lack of experience suggests he’s unprepared to steward such a complex legacy.
The Warrens’ own reputation complicates matters. Some see them as pioneers of paranormal investigation; others view them as sensationalists chasing fame. All of that is explored onAustin Harvey’s essay on Allthatsinteresting.com; Their decision to display cursed items while allegedly ignoring past visitor incidents proposes they prioritized public interest over spiritual caution.
For instance, the Annabelle doll is notorious for supposedly cursing those who speak ill of it, but only two incidents stand out: Dan Rivera toured with the doll and died shortly after, though no official cause has been verified. An urban legend claims a priest who mocked the doll later died, but the Warrens never revealed his identity, blurring fact and myth.
Blurred Boundaries: Entertainment or History?
The Warrens built their careers blending pseudoscience and religious belief. And in the search for box office dollars, Hollywood transformed a few of their best-known cases into a blockbuster franchise. With Rife’s acquisition, their legacy in paranormal pop culture is now placed deeper into entertainment territory. He claims the museum will help people “experience and learn” about haunted history. But what is actually being taught? Who controls the narrative? Without a strong ethical framework, the experience may stoke fear without context or respect.
Museums—like archaeological institutions—serve as caretakers of cultural memory. The Society for American Archaeology warns against selling or displaying artifacts purely for profit. Stewardship means preserving the integrity of materials—haunted or not. Brighton & Hove Museums host ghost-themed events and have strict codes against sensationalism.
Museums like the Molly Brown House strike a balance: they conduct ghost tours with historical grounding and transparency, shaping narratives instead of letting folklore overshadow facts. I have to also state that most walking ghost tours focus on the story of this individual before they died; it’s less about the haunting but more about the legacies left behind, which makes them more educational than anecdotal. Until Rife’s project gets a mission statement out, we don’t know what his plans are.
Dark Tourism, Genuine Risk
Rife’s museum joins a growing trend called “dark tourism”—visiting places tied to death, tragedy, or fear. Ethical dark tourism honours memory, avoids spectacle, and engages respectfully with history. There are ghost tours that fall short. Belief sometimes leads to real-world harm: teens have fallen to their deaths exploring haunted buildings, and others were shot trespassing on “spooky” properties. One such incident happened in Seattle. Danger is not always paranormal—sometimes it comes from human recklessness.
Ghost tourism thrives on ambiguity, selling fear and wonder without confirming or denying anything. This “enchantment economy” relies on immersive experiences, emotional reactions, and shared mythology. Whether spirits exist matters less than the thrill of believing. That ambiguity complicates ethical responsibility. When belief drives engagement, the experience becomes real—emotionally and spiritually. Commercial ventures must choose: profit from fear, or guide people through it?
Generations of Ghosts—and Profits
Ghost tourism spans generations. Boomers and Gen X seek folklore and history; younger audiences chase adrenaline and shareable moments. Social media amplifies every scream, shadow, and shaky camera. But commodifying fear is centuries old. Marie Tussaud’s Chamber of Horrors (1802), Orton and Spooner’s Ghost House (1915), and Disneyland’s Haunted Mansion (1969) show haunted entertainment’s long cultural obsession. For better or worse, what’s important to realize is that history doesn’t excuse ethical lapses; if anything, it makes them easier to overlook.
By repackaging spiritual belief as a ride, we risk trivializing grief, trauma, and memory. Not all ghosts are monsters—some represent injustice, unfinished stories, or sacred warnings. When celebrities exploit these narratives for content and clout, they distort their meaning. Over the years, I’ve reviewed many shows featuring wannabe investigators, including Conjuring Ke$ha (review link here), and they don’t hold a candle to those seeking answers. I understand the sincerity behind figures like Henry Winkler and Dan Aykroyd, as I was fortunate enough to speak with them; others, however, come across as opportunistic rather than authentic.
Why We Still Believe
The question isn’t whether ghosts are real—it’s why we choose to believe. Spirits represent loss, guilt, or hope. They help us process the unknown. Treating belief as a gimmick disrespects its emotional and cultural weight. Paranormal shows often focus on scares, not stories. Genuine investigations help the living cope or guide spirits to peace. They ask questions, document, and respect each other. That’s very different from provoking shadows for clicks.
Ghost hunting blends folklore, theology, psychology, and grief. The best investigations explore all these angles; the worst ignore them.
Closing Thoughts
Rife’s project may not be malicious, but it demands scrutiny. To play host and be a “legal guardina” to a haunted legacy means more than owning property—it carries spiritual, historical, and ethical responsibility. If he wants to open the Warren Museum’s doors, he must do more than monetize belief. He must respect it. Paranormal tourism can offer education, insight, and healing—but only if approached with care.
Because if spirits exist—and they’re watching—we owe them more than spectacle.
For Further Reading That Can Effect The Fate of Matt Rife Haunted Museum
Only the most loved events are mentioned in this year’s Halloween Event Listing for the Garden City is considered.
The season for trick or treating is right around the corner, and instead of listing the usual staples that take place around Victoria, B.C., what’s offered in this year’s Halloween Event Guide are either new events and activities that sparked my interest. The lists I’ve published in prior years are generally still valid, and should be listed as related articles following this post. Because variety is important and not everyone is inclcined to revisit the same old thing every year, even I want something different to try!
Not listed are murder mysteries, themed board game nights and other similiar store hosted events where there’s limited seating. This list will be updated as more events get advertised. If you know of one that should get listed here, please do not hesitate to comment or contact us.
For a taste of the upper class and also being in a haunted hotel, The Fairmount has this unique event for locals and visiting tourists to partake in during the season. Not much information has been made available, but it sounds promising!
Canada is home to many haunted locations. Some are world-famous, like the Fairmont Banff Springs Hotel in Alberta, and others are more well known locally. On Vancouver Island, the site where the Cherry Bank Hotel once stood in Victoria, BC is one and Beban House located in Nanaimo, BC is another. For Canada Post, they have chosen to acknowledge many locations nationwide.
Their upcoming stamp set acknowledges mostly Eastern Canada and hopefully the year after, they can honour the West.
With Halloween around the corner, ’tis the season to get the spooks on all letter mail. In honour of this occasion, Otakunoculture presents a catalogue of previous spotlighted locations (complete with links to each scary story):
from 7 to 11pm daily continues to Nov 1st 10375 Wilson Rd. North Saanich, B.C.
Travelling down a dark and lonely road can be a terrible experience. Imagine getting lost, or finding yourself at a decrepit barn and your vehicle is low on gas. Let’s suppose everything is silent but that house you need to approach is the only place to find a phone so you can call a tow truck. You’re damning your cell phone because there’s no reception out in the countryside. Evil Acres has the potential to be just that if only …
The sad truth with some haunted attractions is that the producers are usually wanting to deliver a carnival style experience. I’d love to visit a haunted asylum aka Grave Encounters but that may not be coming for some time. To enter a haunted house when no one else is there is typically more terrifying. I can only imagine entering it with a few friends in search for something — like a treasured baseball with Miguel Cabrera‘s autograph that got tossed in there by an annoying nephew — but its labyrinthine corridors and odd reeking smells is suggesting otherwise.