Written and directed by first-time filmmaker Lim Dae-hee, Holy Night: Demon Hunters follows three underground demon hunters, operating like private investigators who are too unorthodox to be cops and too accepting of the occult to be associated with the church.

The demon-hunting trinity is led by Ba Woo (Ma Dong-seok), a beast of a man capable of solving most of his problems with his bulking fists. Whatever slips through Ba Woo’s fingers is typically dealt with by Sharon (Seohyun), a woman who can sense and exorcise demons. Then there’s Kim Goon (Lee David), a demon hunter in training who is the team’s tech support.

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A neuropsychiatrist named Jung-won (Kyung Soo-jin) is trying to help her sister Eun-seo (Jung Ji-so) who is in desperate need of an exorcism. With the church unable to assist with their stance on exorcisms, it’s up to Ba Woo and his team to save Eun-seo.

It feels like Holy Night: Demon Hunters is the second installment of a franchise that nobody knew about. A prequel webtoon called Holy Night: The Zero is available on Naver Webtoon and is currently 13 episodes long. The webtoon could add more depth to the film since Holy Night: Demon Hunters seems to struggle to keep your interest for its measly 92-minute duration. Like Richard Kelly’s Southland Tales though, viewers shouldn’t have to read or watch something else to fully appreciate a director’s vision.

The action horror film teases a real-world takeover by not only demons but Lucifer himself. The credits introduce the audience to every demon that could come into play. Holy Night: Demon Hunters barely scratches the surface of the ideas it introduces, so it’s a bit confusing why so many aspects are shown and not utilized. The film then decides to vaguely describe semi-intriguing backgrounds for characters barely seen through to completion.

Ba Woo is using all the money he’s making as a demon hunter to build an orphanage. He grew up as an orphan. And the people from the orphanage he grew up in were slaughtered by his best friend, whom he viewed as a brother. The two of them gained a demonic power, and Ba Woo used his power for good while his brother became a demon.

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The majority of the rest of the film is devoted to Eun-Seo, her exorcism, and which demon has possessed her. The exorcism Sharon uses on her is broken down into six stages (and a piece of bamboo since it thwarts off demonic energy for whatever reason). The six stages of exorcism are presence, deception, break point, voice, clash, and expulsion.

Most of the characters in the film are underdeveloped. Ba Woo is a big, buffed dude struggling with both literal and inner demons inside of him. Sharon is in the same boat, and her power could easily sway her to the dark side. Apart from asking for a raise and being the most sympathetic of the bunch, Kim Goon doesn’t do much.

Jung-won is so annoyingly written. The character is meant to be a burden by being in the room during the exorcism for no reason other than being an obstacle, making stupid decisions at every turn, and being an inconsolable crier at every turn.

The VFX in the film is a mixed bag. Sometimes they look almost great, like when Ba Woo punches demon-possessed people, as smoke seeps from their bodies or the weird shadow demon that haunts him throughout the film. But the CGI highs come with a lot of visual lows, and Holy Night: Demon Hunters struggles with decent-to-janky CGI the majority of the time.

Holy Night: Demon Hunters is a punchier version of Constantine. There are some fun sequences, but the film is a bummer overall. Ma Dong-seok typically chooses great projects to be a part of, and it’s unfortunate that Holy Night: Demon Hunters feels so rushed and incomplete. A big dude storming around the city punching demons into submission sounds so awesome, but somehow Lim Dae-hee turned it into this thin, dull, and lifeless attempt at purification.

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Chris Sawin is a Tomatometer-approved film critic who has been writing about film for over a decade. Chris has … More about Chris Sawin

Mentioned In This Article: action Capelight Pictures Don Lee Holy Night: Demon Hunters Horror Ma Dong-seok Movie Review Movies

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Authorities have identified the inmate accused of stabbing incarcerated rapper Tory Lanez with a self-made shank as 41-year-old Santino Casio, who is serving a life sentence for murder.

Casio allegedly attacked Lanez, whose legal name is Daystar Peterson, around 7:20 a.m. Monday in a housing unit at the California Correctional Institute in Tehachapi, according to the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation.

Peterson is serving a 10-year sentence for shooting rapper Megan Thee Stallion in 2020. He was transported to an outside medical facility for treatment and is currently in fair condition, prison officials said Tuesday afternoon.

An Instagram account ascribed to Lanez said the rapper was stabbed 14 times — including seven wounds to his back, four to his torso, two to the back of his head and one to his face. The 32-year-old Canadian artist was said to have suffered two collapsed lungs but was “in good spirits” and “pulling through.”

Casio has been placed in restrictive housing while prison officials and the Kern County district attorney’s office investigate the attack.

The alleged assailant was sent to the California Correctional Institute from Los Angeles County in 2004 after being sentenced to life with the possibility of parole for second-degree murder, first-degree attempted murder, use of a deadly weapon and inflicting great bodily injury, according to the CDCR.

While in prison, Casio has been sentenced for two additional crimes.

In 2008, he was sentenced to six years for assaulting a prisoner with a deadly weapon. Then, in 2018, he was sentenced to two years for possessing a deadly weapon in prison.

Peterson was sentenced in August 2023 for shooting Grammy-winning artist Megan Thee Stallion, whose legal name is Megan Pete. He was convicted in December 2022 of assault with a firearm, illegal possession of a firearm and negligent discharge of a gun.

The “Savage” musician has alleged that Peterson has continued to harass her from prison by directing his fans and online trolls to disparage her online. In January, a Los Angeles judge granted Pete a restraining order against Peterson until 2030.

Staff writer Richard Winton contributed to this report

Less a narrative feature than an impressionistic work of art, Jia Zhangke distills the past twenty years of his life through the perspective of Qiaoqiao (Zhao Tao) in his latest film, Caught by the Tides. The only “newly” shot portion for the movie occurs during its final half, set in 2022 during the COVID-19 pandemic, as Qiaoqiao reunites with her former lover, Bin (Li Zhubin), for the first time since their separation. What precedes this section is a non-linear assemblage of footage shot by Jia, either for his past films, such as Still Life, Ash is Purest White, and Unknown Pleasures, or footage he kept for himself until today. 

Watching such a movie feels truly daring, as Jia moves away from his linear works into associative territory, linking one piece of shot-on-video footage with another, completely different, celluloid image. The most impressive moment occurs near its end, as the movie cuts from a top-down shot of a ballroom, where a group of people dance during the pandemic, to a fish-eyed digital zoom of a supermarket CCTV camera, first honing in on a pack of oranges, then clumsily careening around the space, desperately looking for an image to focus on. The camera follows Bin inside the market as he reunites with Qiaoqiao. From there, pure cinema occurs. 

Bin reunites with Qiaoqiao and, despite the face masks they are wearing, the two immediately recognize each other’s eyes. Jia lingers on their masked faces for a bit before Bin removes it, to the shock of Qiaoqiao, still unable to process that he’s in front of him, after so many years apart. It’s one of the most potent images in post-COVID filmmaking, where the director is able to find purpose in the sanitary limitations of the era, showing us that connections were still possible, despite the tragic situation the characters were living in.  

Many filmmakers have tried to express the COVID-19 era in film, but have failed to draw anything meaningful out of it. The only artist who got something out of the anxieties such an event drew was Steven Soderbergh when he made his paranoia thriller KIMI in 2022. Radu Jude also tried to say something out of such an event with his unofficial duology Bad Luck Banging or Loony Porn and Do Not Expect Too Much from the End of the World (both are masterpieces, by the way), but no filmmaker expressed dramatic power the way Jia does in this particular section with Caught by the Tides, let alone letting the silences of his (masked) actors speak in ways that words cannot. 

Zhao Tao’s performance is entirely silent, barring a section taken from Unknown Pleasures where the protagonist sings. But there isn’t a spoken word uttered by Qiaoqiao throughout the entire movie, and Jia lets us sit with her in silence, contemplating her future and the choices she has made that ultimately lead her to where she is during the pandemic. Even her exchange with Bin, preceding their breakup, is told through intertitles, with only their looks as the point of reference to make us feel their emotions. To some, that may be an alienating way to watch a movie, especially when Jia flows from one scene to the next without tangible linearity, a massive departure from what he is usually known for. 

However, there’s something so emotionally stirring in Zhao Tao’s portrayal of Qiaoqiao, whether in the repurposed footage from Jia’s past films or what was shot for this movie, that makes the experience so worthwhile. The best parts of acting are conveying everything you want to say without having the need to say anything. Few actors can accomplish this feat well and express a litany of emotions like this, yet Zhao Tao does it so effortlessly. Her forced smile hides feelings she doesn’t want to put forward, even though we can clearly read them. Qiaoqiao isn’t happy, and her current trajectory ensures she won’t find the peace she wants. 

It’s only during an interaction with a robot, in one of the year’s most moving exchanges, that we get to see the real Qiaoqiao, who warms up and happily smiles, for the first time, after the machine tells her, “Mother Teresa once said, if you love until it hurts…there can be no more hurt, only more love.” It’s the first occasion where we see her feel something, and the rest of the film, where Qiaoqiao ties up all of her past loose ends, gives her the courage to do what she needs to do to move on. It’s simultaneously heartbreaking and profoundly affecting, even if Jia’s associations sometimes lose their meaning, particularly in the movie’s midsection. 

That said, even if Caught by the Tides sags and loses its intent in a few places, Jia Zhangke knows he has to anchor his decades-spanning emotional journey through the eyes of his wife and creative partner, Zhao Tao. It’s through those sullen, devastating looks that pierce the artifice of cinema and touch us so profoundly that we’re ultimately moved by this daring proposition from one of China’s greatest formalists, caught in the tides of the past and present, and offering us no solutions for a future that doesn’t look as promising as it might have been envisioned, by Qiaoqiao, or society itself…

SCORE: ★★★1/2

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