Roses Have Thoughts

In Malum, director Anthony DiBlasi revisits the infernal groundwork laid by his 2014 cult horror Last Shift, recasts it with a sharper, more feverish palette and expands on the lore due to the increased budget. The result is a chilling, blood-slicked reimagining that melds psychological dread with grotesque cult imagery, delivering a refreshingly intense horror experience that exceeds expectations for a remake, while keeping most of the elements that made Last Shift so enjoyable.

The plot is lean but effectively crafted: Jessica Loren, a probationary officer, volunteers for a solo overnight shift at the soon-to-be-demolished police station where her father, a hero cop with a tragic legacy died in a brutal manor while investigation a local cult. What begins as an eerie if routine vigil spirals into a nightmarish odyssey of demonic hallucinations, blood rites, and suppressed family truths that slowly come to light as the night progresses.

Jessica Sula commands the film with steely presence and raw vulnerability. As Officer Loren, she grounds the chaos with a committed performance as a police officer dealing with things she would never be prepared for. Her wide-eyed dread and unravelling mental state evoke sympathy without sacrificing credibility, a balance that elevates Malum beyond many of its genre peers and the 2014 original.

DiBlasi’s direction is ruthless and stylised. Gone is the clinical sterility of the original; in its place is a grimy, almost tactile sense of decay. The station is rendered as a labyrinthine purgatory, (think backrooms vibes) alive with dripping shadows, strobing lights, and malevolent whispers. Each corridor becomes a potencial descent into madness or a new truth come to life. The film wears its practical effects proudly, from twitching cultists to terrifying gore, all realised with a commitment that pays off in sheer visceral impact. You know what you’re in for after the first five minutes.

While Malum is primarily concerned with atmosphere and terror, its themes of legacy, trauma, and the corruptibility of institutions thread flow throughout the plot, something that was attempted in the orinial, but budget constaints made it patchy at best. The notion that evil is not only inherited but institutionalised gives the film a certain mythic heft and leaves the film open for sequels (though it does work well as a standalone).

Still, the film isn’t without its flaws. The pacing wavers during the second act, with a few moments of exposition arriving heavy-handedly. Some supporting performances lack the polish of Sula’s lead, espeshally the mother (Candice Coke), who tired hard, yet the matterail isnt there for her. And the narrative occasionally loses its grip on clarity in favour of spectacle. But for fans of Lovecraftian unease and cult horror, these are minor quibbles.

The real triumph of Malum lies in its commitment to the grotesque, both visually and emotionally. This is a horror film unafraid to show its teeth, to immerse the viewer in a world of escalating dread, and to ask, without mercy, what happens when we confront the sins buried in our bloodlines. In short, Malum is a grim and gutsy horror ride that honours its origins while pushing deeper into madness. A worthy addition to the canon of modern cult horror.

IMDB