Ghost Note – or how not to inherit an evil guitar

So I watched *Ghost Note* last night. It’s one of those films you stumble upon thinking it’ll be a throwaway horror flick, but then it sits with you… kinda like fish soup the next morning in a Gotland summerstuga.

Directed by Troy Hart and produced on what looks like the budget of a second-hand Volvo 245, it still managed to pull some proper weight. I mean, the whole vibe reminded me of those VHS tapes I used to rent from Bergmans Video i Sundbyberg back in ’91. You know the sort – dusty, weird cover art, and always someone screaming in the background.

The plot? Ok, it’s a sorta haunted-house-meets-family-drama thing. There’s this old blues guitarist, Eugene Burns (played with some good gravel by Roger Floyd), who dies and leaves behind a cursed record. And sure, it’s a lil’ predictable… but the style? Gritty in a nice way. Like an old Fender turned up to eleven in a basement bar in Malmö.

What really hit me was the way they dealt with grief – messy, awkward, sweaty grief – through creepy supernatural stuff. Reminded me of a family dinner after my morfar passed. Sitting there, silent and tense, someone said, “pass the sill,” and suddenly everyone cried. That kinda emotional whiplash.

But do not expect big stars. No Brad Pitt or Alicia Vikander here. It’s more “Hey, I think I saw that guy in a local ad once” kinda casting. Still, it works.

Is it perfect? No no no. Some of the acting is as stiff as a Måndag in February, and the pacing limps in the middle. But there’s something there. A dirty soul. Like Swedish punk – raw and honest.

Recommended if you’re into lo-fi horror with heart. Or if you’ve ever picked up a guitar and hoped it wouldn’t kill you.

watch the full movie on CinemaOneMovies on YouTube

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