Rod Blackhurst is no stranger to shifting genres. From his Emmy and Critics Choice–nominated Netflix documentary Amanda Knox to the Tribeca Audience Award–winning Here Alone and last year’s gritty crime thriller Blood for Dust, his filmography defies easy categorization. His latest feature, Dolly, which just premiered at Fantastic Fest, may be his most audacious leap yet: a lo-fi, grimy, and oddly tragic horror tale that feels at once familiar and entirely new.
Dolly follows Macy (Fabianne Therese), who is abducted by a hulking, childlike figure in a porcelain mask (played by professional wrestler Max the Impaler) and forced into a nightmare of “playing doll” to survive. With nods to The Texas Chain Saw Massacre and The Hills Have Eyes, the film embraces practical effects, surreal dread, and a twisted fairytale logic that Blackhurst says comes straight from the movies and books that haunted him growing up without a TV in rural New York.
Speaking with me about the project, Blackhurst was candid about its origins: “I needed to make films that were far more like the things I love… shotgun-blast movies that throw you right into the grinder. With Dolly, we’re planting the flag. We’re starting a franchise built off the things I love in cinema”. That ambition is already taking shape. The sequel, a prequel exploring Dolly’s origins, has been written and is slated for production.
The production itself reflects Blackhurst’s fiercely independent ethos. Shot entirely on Super 16mm in Tennessee over just 19 days, Dolly was made with longtime collaborators at Witchcraft Motion Picture Company. It also carries deeply personal stakes: Blackhurst delayed open-heart surgery to finish the film, gambling on its success to help support his wife and two daughters, one of whom even appears in the film.
Anchoring the madness is Therese’s grounded performance as Macy, who navigates terror and absurdity with raw resilience. Seann William Scott and Ethan Suplee add surprising dramatic weight, while Max the Impaler, in their first acting role, embodies Dolly with an unforgettable physicality and presence.
“Every moment had to come from Macy’s grounded reality,” Blackhurst explained in our conversation. “Even when things descend into madness, it needed to feel like a nightmare that could really happen to you”.
With its mix of grotesque invention, indie grit, and sincere emotional undercurrents, Dolly feels like the start of something bigger. Blackhurst has called it the kind of film a 13-year-old him would have begged to rent at the local video shop. Today, it might be the kind of film horror fans trade stories about after a midnight screening, whispering about the hulking figure in the porcelain mask.
I had a great time speaking with Rod, and it is hard not to share in his excitement. Could Dolly be the next big horror franchise? Time will tell, but for now, it is proof that horror can still feel dangerous, handmade, and alive.
Jessie Hobson