This is the feature-length debut from director Donnie Hobbie, and frankly, it’s a shot of adrenaline for anyone who misses the days when movies were built out of neon, smoke machines, bucket-loads of Karo syrup blood and wall-to-wall heavy metal.

Jump Scare, a struggling all-female metal band, hits the road in search of inspiration. They head to a remote desert shack—the same spot where their heroes, the legendary band Blitzgasm, mysteriously vanished years earlier. The band is a powder keg of personality clashes, featuring bassist Kye (Shannon Dang), Val (Chelsea Talmadge), Debbie (Madison Abbott), and Jen (Erin Ruth Walker). Keeping the chaos barely contained is their long-suffering roadie, Dale (Casey Morris).

Before the chainsaws come out, the movie spends a good chunk of time letting the band bicker. It’s a great dynamic. They’re constantly at each other’s throats, screaming about the purity of metal versus the sell-out temptation of sampling and pop hooks. It’s snappy, profane, and genuinely funny, which is a blessing, because it makes you actually care when things inevitably go south.

They quickly discover their neighbors are a clan of Bible-thumping cannibals. The family is led by the terrifyingly devout Karen (Natasha Estrada) and a group of very strange, very dumb men—including none other than genre legend Eric Roberts. Seeing Roberts pop up in a project like this is always a treat; he’s the king of the “I’ll do anything once” genre landscape, and he leans into the depravity here with his usual effortless, wild-eyed charm.

What elevates Jump Scare from a standard slasher is Hobbie’s visual confidence. He isn’t just telling a story; he’s crafting a drugged-out nightmare. The film uses disruptive text inserts and aggressive cutaways that scream The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, not just as an inspiration, but as a blueprint. There’s a meta-layer here where the band actually realizes they are living through the very slasher tropes they’ve seen on screen, which adds some cynicism that plays perfectly against the mindless brutality.

You can watch this either in-person or virtually at the Chattanooga Film Festival. For more info, visit the official site.