Some horror films are scary. Some are weird. Some are unforgettable. And then there’s Tarot—a film that plays its cards so safely it might as well be wearing oven mitts. Marketed as a “mystery horror anthology,” Tarot is technically a movie in the sense that actors stood in front of a camera, but spiritually, it’s a collection of cautionary tales you’d hear from that one friend who really wants to be a psychic but keeps forgetting their tarot deck in the Uber.
Words like “destiny,” “fate,” and “intuition” get thrown around a lot in Tarot, but after 90 minutes of slow-burn setups and payoff-free chaos, the only destiny audiences might embrace is the desire to shuffle this film right back into the bargain bin.
An Anthology of Three Stories That Feel Like One Long, Bad Day
Horror anthologies can be brilliant: Creepshow, Trick ‘r Treat, V/H/S—each segment distinct, surprising, fun. Tarot tries the same thing but ends up feeling less like three stories and more like someone copied and pasted the same plot into three different Word documents, changed the job titles, and hoped nobody would notice.
To be fair, the anthology format should work here. The concept of tarot-themed horror stories practically writes itself. But in this film, each card symbolizes one thing consistently:
Questionable life choices.
Mostly by the characters, sometimes by the filmmakers.
Let’s examine the three “tales” that allegedly make up this deck of fate.
1. Santa’s Visit – Or, Why Are We Still Doing Christmas Horror Movies Like This?
The first story follows Ji-woo, a struggling single mom who leaves her daughter alone on Christmas Eve because she has to work at a convenience store. Already, we’re off to a cheery start. When Ji-woo discovers the Wheel of Fortune tarot card, it’s less “mysterious omen” and more “we printed this from Google.”
The horror escalates through video calls and ominous shadows—basically “Paranormal Activity: Family Plan Edition.” The creature, a demonic Santa Claus, is supposed to symbolize the dark side of Christmas. Instead, he looks like someone melted a mall Santa in a microwave.
The attic confrontation is meant to be suspenseful. Instead, it’s a reminder of how many horror movies end in an attic showdown because no one can think of a location more creative. The mom rescues her daughter, but the trauma lingers—mainly for the audience, who just sat through a creature design that looked like it came from the rejected bin of a Spirit Halloween sale.
By the end of the segment, the only thing truly monstrous is how seriously the film takes itself.
2. Going Home – The Taxi Ride Straight to Regret
Next up: Kyung-rae, a businessman in an extramarital affair—a character archetype so unlikable the horror doesn’t even need a monster. Just let him text his wife the wrong name; that’ll be scarier than anything here.
He finds the Fool card, symbolizing stupidity, recklessness, and—apparently—signing onto this movie.
The taxi driver goes off-route, the radio gets weird, and Kyung-rae becomes convinced the driver is a serial killer. As tension builds, panic sets in, and Kyung-rae kills the driver in self-defense… only to discover the man was innocent.
It’s meant to be a shocking twist, but considering how the film telegraphs EVERYTHING with the enthusiasm of a kindergarten teacher reading flashcards, “surprising” is generous.
From there, Kyung-rae is haunted by ghostly visions of the driver and his mistress, spiraling into paranoia. It’s atmospheric, sure, if your idea of atmosphere is “bluish tint and fog machine set to medium.”
The segment ultimately tries to say something profound about guilt and morality. Instead, it mostly says:
“Don’t cheat on your wife. Or get into taxis. Or watch this movie.”
By the end, Kyung-rae is losing his mind, which is relatable, because so is the audience.
3. Please Throw It Away – Time Loops, Demonic DoorDash, and a Whole Lot of Confusion
Finally, we meet Dong-in, a delivery driver who finds the High Priestess card. Representing intuition and hidden knowledge, the card could’ve led to psychological terror.
Instead, we get a Groundhog Day loop where Dong-in repeatedly delivers to the same creepy woman, whose vibe is somewhere between “possessed cult leader” and “customer who leaves one-star reviews for fun.”
Objects move on their own. Walls bleed. The woman morphs into a monster that looks like a cross between a deep-sea fish and a taxidermy project gone wrong.
And yet… nothing feels cohesive. The scares don’t build—they just happen, like a haunted funhouse operated by interns.
Dong-in tries to throw away the tarot card (the film’s title practically begs him to), but the card keeps reappearing. This is supposed to symbolize inescapable fate. Instead, it feels like the prop department only made one card, so they had to keep using it.
The final confrontation is chaotic, loud, and weirdly exhausting. Dong-in faces “the embodiment of his fears,” but by this point, the real fear is that the story may have another twist to drag us through. Luckily, it ends—unceremoniously, abruptly, like the filmmakers also realized they were out of ideas.
Performances: The Cast Really Tried, Bless Their Haunted Hearts
Cho Yeo-jeong is a phenomenal actress, but even she can only do so much when the script keeps serving lines like, “Who’s in the house?” with the depth of a fortune cookie.
Dex as Dong-in commits fully—but watching him fight a CGI-tinted monster made of sadness and jelly isn’t exactly the highlight of his career.
Ko Kyu-pil’s turn as Kyung-rae is convincingly panicked, but given his character’s moral compass, some viewers might be rooting for the ghosts.
The rest of the cast exists. They act. They emote. They get chased by metaphors. But the movie never lets them do anything memorable because the stories are too busy sprinting toward climaxes they never fully earn.
The Real Horror: The Film’s Own Pacing
The editing feels like three episodes of a TV show stitched together with duct tape and wishes. Transitions are abrupt, tonal shifts are jarring, and the pacing is inconsistent—slow when it should be tense, fast when it should breathe, and confusing everywhere.
It’s the narrative equivalent of a tarot reading done by someone who skimmed the guidebook two minutes before your appointment.
A Film About Fate With No Sense of Direction
Thematically, Tarot wants to say something about destiny, guilt, choices, and the butterfly effect.
But what it actually says is more like:
“Tarot cards are spooky! Please clap.”
Each story teases deeper meaning but never follows through. The film sets up questions without answers, symbolism without substance, and supernatural elements without rules.
It’s all mood, no marrow.
Final Verdict: Throw This Movie Away (The Title Told You To)
Tarot isn’t unwatchable—but it IS frustrating. It’s a deck stacked with clichés, half-baked ideas, and horror tropes that were already tired when flip phones were still in style.
It’s not scary enough to satisfy horror fans.
Not clever enough to be psychological horror.
Not insightful enough to be meaningful folklore.
Not campy enough to be fun.
It’s just… fine. And that’s the biggest curse of all.
If fate leads you to Tarot, remember: not all prophecies are worth fulfilling.
