The short opens with a large “Presented in Holomax” title echoing the old-style anamorphic format trade names such as Cinemascope. But we’re in firm television ratio here and this mix of anachronisms brilliantly underpins all aspects of Cursed Words.

We push in on a man who waits trance-like at a local pub as other customers around him jovially drink traditional pints and play darts. Some older clothes and set décor give it a feel of the past – but again, what period it is, I don’t know – but this mix of old-timey quirkiness at odds with the modern and keeps the short off-kilter. It also creates a successful unsettling vibe perfect for any horror tale.

As time is called, the ding of the pub bell awakens the man from his thoughts and we see him hold a blood-stained letter with a wax seal featuring a pentagram.

The basic camera moves and shot choices echo classic black and white horrors and it becomes increasingly self-aware as the content of the letter is obscured by a large ‘censored’ sign. As he reads to himself from the letter, beads of sweat and a gulp of breath suggests something ominous forthcoming without the audience knowing what words are written.

And with a jolt from the sound of a storm and a sudden shattering of glass, our protagonist suddenly smashes his head to the table in self-inflicted terror. The pub patrons look on confusingly as the man violently hits his head again and again until grotesquely disfigured. He finally stands up with eyes rolled back, before his neck snaps and sticks a blade into his own skull. Woah!

Technical wise, the archaic style is spot on in every aspect. The sound is suitably gramophone-lite with record scratches and added spooky theremin soundscapes filling out the aural aesthetic. The black and white filter injects film scratches and a juddery projector feel to the proceedings.

The nods don’t stop there as some of the themes of the “undead” hark to the Universal movie monsters of the past, yet there is a more modern nod to the likes of comedies Inside Number 9 and The League of Gentlemen with dollops of jet black humour.

The story continues as a bar maid picks up the letter and reads the censored words aloud herself and suddenly all hell breaks loose with *SPOILER* a cacophony of bones breaking, fork stabbing, decapitations and body horror filling the pub.

The directors have thrown everything they can to inject Cursed Words with nasty nostalgia but also add new ideas too. 1931’s Frankenstein was subject to the enforcement of the Motion Picture Production Code censorship guidelines and the short self-referentially pokes fun and uses the trope to create an intriguing set-up.

The cast give it their all and the film gets surprisingly gory, and funnily enough words aren’t able to fully describe how off the wall the short is. And the gross special effect make-up is brilliantly nauseating as skin ruptures, blood drips and heads roll. Coming highly recommended, Cursed Words comes together because of its mix of fresh modern gore and the winning formula of time-honoured horror cinema, ultimately making it a satisfying slice of dark comedy and hellish horror.