Maternal instinct proves fertile ground for horror in Laura Moss’ Birth/Rebirth. On one hand, a socially awkward pathologist (Marin Ireland) goes to strange lengths to conceive, for even stranger reasons. On the other, a nurse at her hospital (Judy Reyes) has a 6-year-old daughter until, suddenly, she doesn’t. Even more stranger circumstances bring the women together — in a twisted approximation of the modern family.

The blinder you are going in to Birth/Rebirth, the better it plays. Let’s just call it a dead-serious take on Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, surrounding an ongoing experiment into cellular regeneration using fetal pig tissue. Fresh from this summer’s The Boogeyman, Ireland is an actress I’ll watch in anything, so that she excels with chameleon-like skills as the film’s Victor Frankenstein analogue is practically predestined.

Other than an unmannered performance from 8-year-old newcomer A.J. Lister, the real revelation is Reyes (2022’s Smile). Best known for nursing duties on eight seasons of the TV sitcom Scrubs, she not only scores equal billing as a co-lead, but emerges as Ireland’s equal, seizing the opportunity she’s rarely afforded. Reyes is terrific as the mother so stuck in the initial phase of grief, she soon submits to requests of Ireland’s morgue-dwelling “mad scientist princess bitch” after initially finding them so repulsive.

Although the ending is abrupt, Birth/Rebirth is absorbing for the whole and a near-stunning directorial debut for Moss (wonderfully notorious for their 2016 trilogy of Porn Without Sex shorts), operating with appropriately cold, clinical precision. Multiple scenes would cause David Cronenberg great delight and mainstream audiences great distress. You know where you fall. —Rod Lott

Get it at Amazon.

If you dig Bigfoot movies, but wish they contained more marital strife, good news: Jon Garcia, the director of an actual movie called Sex Weather, gives you Summoning the Spirit.

Seeking a new start post-miscarriage, spouses Dean (Ernesto Reyes, TV’s American Gods) and Carla (Krystal Millie Valdes) buy a cozy house amid 5 acres of forest. While he dictates chapters of Oregon Trail historical fiction into a handheld recorder, she gets to know the locals, a bunch of New Age woo-woos with names like River and Clear who say they were called here “by the spirit.”

Living on a farm, these neighbors call themselves The Mountain People. They worship “the giants in the forest.” They have a podcast. They conduct daytime orgies. Regarding the latter, Dean asks, “Did you do stuff? Like sexy stuff?” And despite all evidence within the previous 75 minutes, Dean is shocked — shocked, I tell you! — by the realization The Mountain People are a cult.

A markedly different slice of sasquatch cinema, Summoning the Spirit dips all its toes into arthouse folk horror while also delivering on the most exploitable part of the film: Bigfoot, of course. You see the beast in the first five minutes — and not in the usual fleeting-tease glimpses. Every time the cryptid shows up, hell is raised and the movie instantly becomes better.

While that’s not enough in the long run to merit a glowing recommendation, it’s enough for a mild one. Plus, the Bigfoot costume is great. Thank God Garcia couldn’t afford CGI. —Rod Lott

Get it at Amazon.

After livestreamer Logan (Tyler Gene) goes missing while looking for a “haunted, mythological creature thing” at North Carolina’s Lake Tomahawk, a group of friends and fellow content creators search for him.

Of course, they have to document it, too — whether that’s out of care or for the clout is up for interpretation. Walking into a restricted area of the woods, the five flirt, argue, theorize, get lost and — eventually — run and scream. This is found-footage horror, after all.

I believe in the hands of a majority of microbudget filmmakers, Logan’s livestreamed prologue would be stretched out to be the whole movie, with each (p)added minute diluting its effectiveness (especially in the use of the buffering symbol at peak moments). Instead, The Wendigo takes the smarter route of going a layer deeper. To its credit, I was absorbed enough in the hunt that I kept forgetting its cryptozoological foundation. Antlers aplenty; no snow.

While the full result is imperfect, it’s start-to-finish better than most, no doubt aided by first-feature director Jake Robinson (also part of the primary cast) wrapping things up after an hour. With the last 15 minutes achieving a mild intensity, he doesn’t give you the chance to become bored. However, the final scene, involving a circle of people, finds him letting go of the restraint he otherwise ably demonstrates. —Rod Lott