‘Them Come Blood’ Review: Stylish Grindhouse Horror That Forgets to Grind

Grindhouse cinema has always thrived on excess. The blood is bloodier, the dialogue is campier, the violence is nastier, and the pacing doesn’t let up. Mike Cuenca’s Them Come Blood certainly understands the aesthetic of exploitation filmmaking, but underneath its buckets of gore, and vintage film grain, lies a shockingly boring horror film that never discovers the manic energy the genre demands.

The film follows a group of friends on a weekend road trip that quickly spirals into nightmare territory after they encounter three mysterious strangers at a local bar. Curiosity gets the better of them, leading them to a secluded brothel whose inhabitants promise to fulfill every visitor’s deepest desires. The catch? The hostess openly tells them they’re going to die. Rather than taking the obvious warning and leaving, the group stumbles willingly into what becomes a house of horrors.

For a film only eighty-three minutes long, Them Come Blood spends an astonishing amount of time doing very little. People just talk ad nauseum about unimportant stuff, which seems like an attempt for the audience to get to know our characters. There are so many characters with their own agendas, it’s hard to keep track. Every time the story is ready to launch into the central horror, it stops abruptly  to introduce entirely new characters and the lengthy conversations continue. The constant narrative detours rob the film of momentum, leaving viewers waiting far too long for the promised carnage.

Even once everyone finally converges inside the brothel, the film struggles to generate sustained tension. One of the strangest aspects of the screenplay is how casually nearly every character reacts to increasingly disturbing situations. They encounter bizarre strangers, unsettling rituals, and explicit warnings of impending death, yet respond with an emotional flatness that makes no sense. Instead of feeling trapped alongside the characters, the audience is left wondering why anyone remains there at all.

The ensemble doesn’t help matters. Writing an effective group of protagonists is notoriously difficult, and Them Come Blood rarely succeeds in distinguishing one personality from another. The friends spend much of the runtime engaging in conversations that neither deepen their relationships nor reveal meaningful individual characteristics. At times, they resemble an intentionally dysfunctional version of the Scooby-Doo gang, but without the chemistry or charm that makes ensemble horror-comedies work.

Ironically, the film’s strongest qualities are entirely technical. Cuenca, who serves as director, co-writer, editor, and actor, crafts a visually distinctive experience that proudly wears its influences on its sleeve. The grainy, grindhouse aesthetic gives the film the texture of a forgotten VHS tape, while natural lighting, harsh shadows, and unconventional framing create imagery that’s at least interesting to look at. Employing fractured jumps through time and space that create a persistent feeling of disorientation remains consistent throughout the film. This makes the horror seem like a natural extension of its visual language.

Still, style alone cannot even sustain 83-minutes. There is admirable ambition in Cuenca’s willingness to wear so many creative hats, but Them Come Blood ultimately feels like a production that could have benefited from additional collaborators willing to challenge its pacing, sharpen its characters, and streamline the storytelling. Sometimes another creative perspective is exactly what a project needs.

Them Come Blood faithfully recreates the look and attitude of grindhouse cinema. What it fails to capture is its pulse. Extreme violence can be entertaining. Extreme violence paired with prolonged stretches of boredom is a far more difficult sell. Despite flashes of visual creativity and an appreciation for exploitation aesthetics, this is one road trip I can’t recommend taking.