Don’t Blow It
Directed by Corin Hardy
Starring Dafne Keen, Sophie Nélisse, Sky Yang
Released February 6th, 2026
Rated PG-13
There’s a sweet scene in Whistle that admittedly made me feel old. In this scene a teenager named Chrysanthemum (Dafne Keen) is listening to cool music and their love interest Ellie (Sophie Nélisse) says “hey this is cool music” and Chrys says “yeah, it’s from my dad’s collection.” That’s not the only element of Whistle that made me feel my age. The frequent jump scares in the film are accompanied by ear piercing noises that are mixed so loud that my ears were ringing long after the movie ended. I wonder if that’s a YouTube horror thing? I don’t care for it. You should be able to scare me without yelling “BOO!” Now get off my lawn. End of rant.
There is a same sex romance in Whistle, but the film doesn’t make a big deal about that. Back in the day, this would have been a huge part of the movie, but here it’s just an accepted part of who the characters are. I’m showing my age again, but it’s wonderful that we’ve come this far as a society that it’s not something played for shock value or played for laughs or punished with character deaths. It’s just who Chrys and Ellie are. Sophie Nélisse is fine as the pre-med student Ellie, but it’s Dafne Keen who shines as the tortured, music loving, substance abusing Chrysanthemum. In addition to acting chops, Keen has a striking face, and more than once I felt like the filmmakers made her up to look a bit like Sherliyn Fenn as Audrey Horne in Twin Peaks.
Director Corin Hardy brings a slightly gothic vibe to Whistle, recalling the 90s genre classics The Craft and The Crow. Hardy was at one time attached to direct a remake of The Crow but was replaced by Rupert Sanders, who released his horrible version in 2024. Maybe that’s why Chrys’ cousin Rel (Sky Yang) is obsessed with a comic book character dubbed “The Revenger” – to the extent of dressing up as him for a Halloween party – that for all intents and purposes is The Crow. Eagle-eyed viewers will spot people dressed as other iconic movie monsters during Whistle’s Harvest Celebration set piece, and you may catch other genre references across the rest of the film, such as (Andy) Muschietti matches, (Paul) Verhoeven steelworks, and a teacher named Mr. Craven (Nick Frost).
Fear of death (and of aging) is a plot point in Whistle. Owen Egerton’s screenplay features a pretty neat idea – once cursed, you die now from whatever would have killed you in the future. So if you were supposed to die of lung cancer in however many years, the illness would just take you all at once right now. If you were supposed to die years later in a car crash, you’d instead die now from those injuries as if you were in a car crash, even if you were standing in your bedroom. This makes for some really interesting and gory visuals. And how does one become cursed? By blowing into the Olmec death whistle, of course. Duh.
How exactly does this skull-shaped artifact end up in the possession of hapless teenagers and why on earth would any of them put the ancient device on their lips? That’s not important. They do, and are summarily cursed. Too bad, so sad. Whistle is an unapologetic throwback to those glossy nineties high-concept slasher-adjacent movies such as Disturbing Behavior and Final Destination, complete with an attractive, diverse cast of characters and needle drops aplenty. You’re gonna hear Concrete Blonde, you’re gonna hear Chvrches, you’re gonna see teenagers yell and scream as they’re terrorized and torn apart. Good times!
As fun as the pop music needle drops are, I also really enjoyed the score by Doomphonic. I have no idea who Doomphonic are, but they knocked this soundtrack out of the park. It’s very creepy, dark techno music that pumps and pops and feels eclectic. I stayed through the end credits just to hear more of the score and there’s even a neat flourish right at the end. The score is available now on streaming services. I recommend that you check it out. But I do not recommend that you blow on any ancient whistles you find laying around, no matter how cool they look.