*Moloch* does something slightly cheeky with folk horror. It takes all the familiar materials, the isolated house, the bog, the buried bodies, the inherited curse, then handles them with the impatience of a modern horror film that would quite like to make you jump out of your chair. That collision is its best idea. Early on, a picture hanging in an otherwise still house begins to move. It initially feels suspiciously like the film nudging us in the ribs and saying, “spooky, see?” Then *Moloch* keeps returning to that kind of intrusion. Figures appear where they should not be, sound arriv…
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