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[TV Review] The First Ever “Thanksgiving of Horror” is a Holiday Highlight for “The Simpsons”

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“The Simpsons” mix things up and turn their horror sensibilities towards Thanksgiving in an anthology episode that’s both funny and frightening.

When you’ve been on television for over 30 years and turned out over 600 episodes, it’s not unusual to want to experiment with form and take some swings. In its more recent years, The Simpsons has attempted left turns like doing a conventional Halloween episode rather than purely a “Treehouse of Horror” episode. The Simpsons takes a similar risk here by turning Thanksgiving into another centerpiece for horror. There was once a time when this series treated Thanksgiving as a cathartic time for Bart to learn lessons about family, but we’re now at the opposite end of the spectrum. That being said, not only is “Thanksgiving of Horror” very funny, but as far as recent Simpsons episodes (and even “Treehouse of Horror” installments) are concerned, it’s a stronger entry in the series.

“Thanksgiving of Horror” very wryly begins in a moment of self-parody as it evokes the setting and atmosphere of the show’s earliest “Treehouse of Horror” efforts. Marge jokes about how the obligations and responsibilities of Thanksgiving can be a frightening thing, but her cursory warning that we now just generally live in dark times where everything is depressing and overwhelming does ring true. Make no mistake, this episode doesn’t try to tap into some deeper social commentary, but it does create a surprisingly poignant introduction to help segue into this anthology experiment when it just as easily could have done nothing at all.

Some of the later entries in the “Treehouse of Horror” series have lost their punch or embraced crazier ideas due to how there have been over two-dozen of these installments. Thankfully, “Thanksgiving of Horror” doesn’t suffer from this fatigue and manages to come up with some engaging stories that effectively balance silliness with slaughtering. This is perhaps best demonstrated in the episode’s first story, “A-Gobble-Ypto.” This is a tremendously bizarre idea that riffs on Mel Gibson’s battle epic, Apocalypto. The unique angle here is that the Simpson family and a good deal of Springfield become turkeys, while the rest of the town are rampaging pilgrims who are on the hunt during the very first Thanksgiving.

To this story’s credit, “A-Gobble-Ypto” plays out mostly without dialogue and is instead filled with the incessant warbles of turkeys. Just like in Apocalypto, all of this silliness is juxtaposed with abject carnage. It’s a little jarring to watch turkey versions of the Simpsons get their heads blown apart and become reduced to viscera. There are some especially brutal explosions here and a number of graphic beheadings, but it’s this heightened gore that helps make this story stand out. Also Helen Lovejoy’s, “Won’t somebody think of the Pilgrims?” makes this whole thing worthwhile.

The Fourth Thursday After Tomorrow” is perhaps the weakest of the three installments, but it does verge into what’s eerily the most plausible territory as it plays around with A.I. Homer gets Marge a virtual A.I. assistant for the kitchen, but what initially seems like an advantage soon turns into something more sinister. The episode builds off of the idea that systems like Alexa get to thoroughly learn who you are, yet this goes one step further where the A.I. inside Marge’s kitchen assistant is actually a tiny virtual version of her. This turns into a fascinating struggle where Marge is competing against herself as Homer becomes more drawn to this less complex and “easier” version of his wife. It raises some scary concerns about where technology is headed and it actually succeeds in being thoughtful with its resolution. It’s also just an exceptionally strong Marge story by all accounts.

The Last Thanksgiving” is the final entry in the episode and it shifts the focus to Bart, Lisa, and Springfield’s younger generation who wake up from their cryo-sleep on a space shuttle. “The Last Thanksgiving” initially feels like it might be playing around in Ender’s Game territory, but soon an innocent gesture to conjure the familiarity of a Thanksgiving dinner throws the crew of the ship in danger. “The Last Thanksgiving” is like a combination of both The Blob and Alien in the best possible ways. A gelatinous cylinder of cranberry sauce gains sentience and tries to steal the bones of everyone on board. The way in which this entity rips the bones out of its victims and reduces them to empty skin husks is genuinely disturbing. This manner of execution is much more upsetting than if it simply ate or murdered them. The way in which Martin pleasurably sacrifices himself to the growing mass is also particularly eerie.

“Thanksgiving of Horror” is absolutely one of the goriest and most graphic installments of The Simpsons, even in terms of their crazier non-canonical entries. In spite of the copious carnage and bloodshed that’s on display here, this oddly feels just as much like it’s a showcase for science fiction as it is for horror. Granted, previous “Treehouse of Horror” entries have included sci-fi in their larger umbrella for horror, but it almost feels like this is The Simpsons’ take on Black Mirror more than anything else. This is most rampant in the episode’s second installment, “The Fourth Thursday After Tomorrow,” which doesn’t try to hide these comparisons, but there’s a heavy sci-fi flair in the final story, too. This isn’t a negative thing, but if there are future “Thanksgiving of Horror” entries it should be interesting to see which genre it skews towards more.

“Thanksgiving of Horror” is a wonderfully fun installment of The Simpsons that is worth checking out even if you’ve been sleeping on the series for the better part of a decade. Dan Vebber, one of the stronger writers of both Futurama and The Simpsons is responsible for the episode’s script and he gives it his all here. It’s an entertaining episode that would make a fine addition to anyone’s Thanksgiving (or Halloween) viewing lists. There’s such an obvious amount of love and joy that went into this production; one of the best little touches is that all of the crew names in the credits are changed to food puns, rather than the spooky ones that are done for Halloween.

It’s unclear if “Thanksgiving of Horror” will remain a one-off fluke or if The Simpsons will attempt “Christmas of Horror” or “Mother’s Day of Horror” in the future. However, this endeavor is enough of a success and the material feels different enough from their Halloween fare that it will hopefully turn into a tradition for The Simpsons. More annual excuses for horror is never a bad thing.

Daniel Kurland is a freelance writer, comedian, and critic, whose work can be read on Splitsider, Bloody Disgusting, Den of Geek, ScreenRant, and across the Internet. Daniel knows that "Psycho II" is better than the original and that the last season of "The X-Files" doesn't deserve the bile that it conjures. If you want a drink thrown in your face, talk to him about "Silent Night, Deadly Night Part II," but he'll always happily talk about the "Puppet Master" franchise. The owls are not what they seem.

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Movies

‘Recluse’ Review – Harrowing Haunted House Horror With Lots Of Skeletons In Its Closet [Tribeca 2026]

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Joan's burned father approaches in Recluse Review.

A haunted house story is tense, terrifying storytelling when it’s properly executed. There’s been a growing tendency in horror to blend together harrowing haunted house stories with traumatic homecomings. A family member’s illness or death triggers a return to something dark that was intentionally left behind. Recluse hits all the tropes that one expects to find in this type of horror film, yet it manages to push this story in a daring, disturbing new direction that uses sound as a superpower.

It’s a unique lens to experience a familiar story about family secrets, generational trauma, unresolved grief, and the importance of not just legacy, but preservation. It’s a hell of a directorial debut from Henry Chaisson that’s guaranteed to get under the audience’s skin as they’re dragged through this painful, toxic tale.

Recluse is a gothic haunted house story where an isolated audio engineer, Joan (Sasha Frolova), returns to her family’s estate to check in on her father after he suffers a terrible accident. Joan suddenly discovers something much more sinister that paints her family’s tragedies in a very different light. Chaisson’s debut functions as a fascinating companion piece to this year’s undertone, which does a lot of the same things. 

These two films make for a fascinating case of parallel thinking that tackles comparable subject matter through a similar lens, albeit in a bigger, less claustrophobic story in Recluse’s case. In fact, it’s the perfect horror film for anyone who was let down by undertone and didn’t feel like it brought enough to the table. It’s a considerably more conventional horror film, but this isn’t meant to denigrate its high quality. Recluse may hit some familiar notes, but it’s a scary, well-crafted haunted house horror story that goes for the jugular.

recluse horror movie

A gripping mystery that involves the tragic, unresolved circumstances that surround Joan’s mother teases a chilling connection to the recent horrors that have afflicted her father. Joan desperately tries to put these pieces together and give her family some sense of grander peace before she’s pulled under and becomes another victim of this festering curse that’s systematically worked its way through the Wyatt family. By doing so, Recluse digs into some deeper commentary on collective trauma, a very literal look at thesins of the fatheradage, and how one selfish decision can ripple through generations and fracture off into different dilemmas. By the end, Recluse has brilliantly flipped the powerful concept of legacy on its head by illustrating the horrors and sense of entitlement that can be born out of this idea.

A legacy is just another name for a curse under the right context.

Listenis a simple but powerful command from Joan’s father that she briefly obsesses over. In a way, it becomes Recluse’s grander mission statement, whether it’s in response to Joan listening to the people in her life, the signals that her body and mind are telling her, or the world’s greater whims. It’s important to reconnect with these grounding pillars, especially when it feels like control is slipping away.

Recluse excels with how audio and soundscapes can create entire universes that are full of rich details that transport individuals to these environments. There’s also a level of objectivity when it comes to audio recordings and the evergreen permanence that they’re able to provide. Joan’s career as an audio engineer makes sense for someone who wants to cling to hard evidence and proof of existence. It provides great insight into Joan without ever getting lost in contrived exposition.

Joan’s entire life is built around audio engineering, and so it makes sense that Recluse features excellent sound design that really goes above and beyond with its production elements. All of the sound design is expertly handled and turns the film into something special. These auditory elements intuitively keep the audience on edge so that they’re more susceptible to the actual scares that eventually strike. The smallest sound effect gets turned into a crushing, cacophonous assault. It’s a really effective way to build terror. Writer/Director Chaisson also handles the film’s music, which achieves a sublime, unnerving dissonance that further heightens the free-floating anxiety.

Tobey Poser in Recluse premiering at Tribeca 2026

The story at the center of Recluse is slightly generic in some respects, but the film’s visual language and tone make it feel distinctly memorable. It also doesn’t hurt that the home that Joan returns to is basically an eerie art studio that’s full of contorted paintings. Recluse never struggles to generate mounting dread and terror that pump through every scene. Powerful, thoughtful cinematography consistently reinforces the film’s themes. Joan is constantly reflected in different surfaces or viewed through mirrors. She’s also often confined to tight, constricting framing that all speaks to her refracted identity during this moment of loss and her attempts to regain agency and control by making sense of something that’s seemingly unexplainable. 

Recluse is full of truly disturbing visuals that make it seem like Joan is lost in a dream that turns out to be an extended nightmare. It’s a surreal journey reminiscent of invasive psychological horror like Silent Hill, with a touch of Sinister and Hereditary thrown in for good measure. There are so many individual frames that could endlessly fuel urban legends and creepypastas.

It does a great job with how it presents Joan’s fragile state of mind, where chilling flashes of the past sneak up on her and unresolved trauma manifests into unsettling imagery. There are endless shots that are obscured in darkness, or shadow is creeping in from the corners of frames like a suffocating force of nature. It’s very rare that a scene is fully lit. It leads to a very lonely, isolating atmosphere that’s easy to get lost in.

Chaisson’s debut stands out from the many other high-minded haunted house horror films without succumbing to the same pretensions that often drag down these stories. It’s a grief-stricken character study that’s full of upsetting visuals that scratch at something visceral and raw. The horror elements connect, and the answers to its grander mystery provide an appropriate and believable sense of closure. Those who are looking for an atmospheric horror film that isn’t afraid to be different while still channeling something real will appreciate Recluse.

Recluse made its world premiere at Tribeca; release info TBD.

4 out of 5 skulls

 

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