V/H/S/Beyond

If you told me in 2012 that a lo-fi, shaky-cam experiment like the original V/H/S would eventually spawn a seven-film dynasty, I probably would have assumed you’d spent too much time huffing the chemicals off a magnetized tape. Yet, here we are in the streaming era, and V/H/S/Beyond has arrived to prove that the franchise isn't just surviving—it’s actually evolving. While the series built its brand on gritty, urban legends and grainy analog hauntings, this latest installment pivots toward the stars, trading out ghosts in the basement for "dangerous lifeforms" and cosmic dread.

I watched this on a Tuesday night while intermittently trying to scrape a stubborn piece of dried candle wax off my coffee table with a fingernail, and honestly, the tactile frustration of the wax paired perfectly with the "sci-fi body horror" vibe of the film.

The New Frontier of Found Footage

The V/H/S series has always been a "sampler platter" of horror, but Beyond feels more cohesive because it tethers itself to a central theme: the unknown. In an era where every person has a 4K camera in their pocket, the "found footage" gimmick has had to adapt. This entry leans into that technological shift, utilizing everything from GoPros and body cams to high-end digital documentary rigs. It’s a smart move for contemporary cinema; it acknowledges that we are a society that records its own demise in high definition.

The standout segment for me, and likely for anyone who grew up on a diet of Aliens and first-person shooters, is "Stork." Directed by Jordan Downey (who did the incredible The Head Hunter), it follows a tactical police unit raiding a house full of "stolen" babies, only to find something much more Lovecraftian. Featuring the crew from Corridor Digital—Niko Pueringer and Sam Gorski—the segment uses their visual effects wizardry to create a relentless, "Doom-inspired" gauntlet of carnage. It’s easily the most adrenaline-pumping fifteen minutes the franchise has produced in years, and it proves that low-budget ingenuity can still kick the teeth out of most $200 million blockbusters.

From Bollywood to Body Horror

One of the strengths of the V/H/S format is its ability to showcase global voices. "Dream Girl," directed by Virat Pal, brings us into the high-glitz world of a Bollywood set. It’s colorful, frantic, and features a twist that turns the "creepy fan" trope on its head with some truly gnarly practical effects. It’s a reminder that horror is a universal language, even when it’s being shouted over a choreographed dance number.

Then there’s "Fur Babies," directed by Christian Long and Justin Long. If you know Justin Long’s history with the genre (from Jeepers Creepers to the more recent Barbarian), you know he has a twisted sensibility. This segment is... well, it’s a lot. It’s a "peta-gone-wrong" nightmare involving a doggie daycare that is less about grooming and more about radical taxidermy. It’s the kind of segment that makes you want to hug your golden retriever while also checking their paws for human fingers. It’s dark, mean-spirited, and darkly hilarious in a way that feels very "2024 internet subculture."

Cosmic Dread and Streaming Savvy

The final segment, "Stowaway," marks the directorial debut of Kate Siegel, written by her frequent collaborator (and horror royalty) Mike Flanagan. This is the "prestige" piece of the anthology. It’s slower, more atmospheric, and deeply unsettling, following a woman documenting her search for UFOs in the desert. It lacks the "jump-scare-a-minute" pacing of the other shorts, but it lingers in the brain. It’s a great example of how these streaming-exclusive films can take risks that theatrical releases won't; it’s a quiet, depressing ending to a very loud movie.

The "Special Presentation" framing device by Jay Cheel—which ties the shorts together as a pseudo-documentary about alien encounters—is a bit hit-or-miss. It’s a necessary evil for the format, but the framing narrative is about as necessary as a screen door on a submarine. You’re here for the shorts, not the interstitial interviews with fictional "experts," even if Mitch Horowitz plays his role with a delightful, eerie sincerity.

Ultimately, V/H/S/Beyond is the most consistent the series has been since V/H/S/2. It understands the current cultural anxiety regarding AI, surveillance, and our place in the universe. In an era where franchise fatigue is a real disease, this series keeps finding new ways to infect its audience. It’s a testament to the "indie-to-streaming" pipeline that Shudder has mastered; giving creative control to genre nerds and letting them get weird with it.

If you’ve got five minutes before your bus—or better yet, an hour and fifty minutes alone in the dark—V/H/S/Beyond is a ride worth taking. It’s messy, loud, and occasionally disgusting, which is exactly what a horror anthology should be. It doesn't need to be an "instant classic" to be a hell of a lot of fun right now. Grab some popcorn, ignore the static, and just remember: there really is no safe space.