The Twisted Ones

This was a passable enough Appalachian folk horror that neither bored nor excited me. If anything, I'll remember this as being a (possibly unintentionally) funny story with a recurring gag of a neverending NPR pledge drive going on in the background of multiple scenes. Also amused with the concept of a person being such an absolute piece of shit sonofabitch that everyone hates that literal supernatural beings stay away from your property because your vibes were so rancid. Of course, when said asshole finally dies (the protagonist's hoarder grandmother in this case), the house is seemingly no longer off-limits: enter inciting incident.

There was a little more telling than showing going on at the very end and I would've been happy with letting a little more of the premise go unexplained but again, I didn't hate this.