Robbie Banfitch’s debut, The Outwaters, was a kaleidoscopic vision of found footage horror, a vibe-driven, sun-drenched, chaotic creation that left me craving more. For his sophomore feature, Banfitch tethers his family to a decidedly different brand of genre curiosities. An emotionally moving and fully-formed narrative give Tinsman Road an entirely different feel from what came before. Once again, Banfitch writes, stars, directs, and edits, holding full control over the eerie atmosphere that permeates from the very first frame. Expansive and bone-chilling, Tinsman Road puts the fictional Lyle family under the microscope for maximum faux documentary found footage shocks.
Some years ago, Noelle Lyle disappeared without a trace, wandering along Tinsman Road only to never be seen again. Her brother, Robbie (Banfitch), returns to his old stomping grounds for the first time since Noelle’s assumed demise. Matriarch Leslie (Leslie Ann Banfitch) seems convinced that she sees signs from Noelle to indicate that her spirit still lingers the halls of their family home. She hears soft footsteps on the stairs, and Noelle’s music box goes off on its own deep into the night. Leslie urges Robbie to make a documentary about these signs, exploring the link between spirituality and their sister. But his focus lies elsewhere—perhaps there’s something Robbie can unearth that will prove definitively what really happened to Noelle.
Throughout the first act, Robbie does the legwork with his interviews, highlighting locals and their take on Noelle. As with The Blair Witch Project before it, these interviews come across authentic, and add a layer of believability to the world of Tinsman Road. As the days spent at home with Leslie turn to months, Robbie becomes more fixated than ever in finding answers. When he discovers a set of cassette tapes and a player in Noelle’s room, they become the unending soundtrack to his journey. The investigation stays captivating throughout, always supplemented by a growing sense of dread.
Clocking in at almost exactly two hours, there’s a quiet patience behind the way Banfitch unfolds the horrors this time around. If we did not buy the dynamic of the mother/son relationship, it would not work nearly as well. Perhaps it shouldn’t be such a surprise that the real-life bond transfers seamlessly to the cinema screen—Leslie and Robbie, still locked somewhere in separate stages of grief, will make viewers fully invested in their plight. The natural way the story unfolds makes it feel more human and deeply personal than The Outwaters.
What happens when we die? Is there a heaven or a hell? Are ghosts real? Many of these questions are asked during Tinsman Road, and even without embracing steadfast answers, the slow build totally immerses you in its grip. Each time the night rolls around, a horror-seasoned brain may expect something eerie to be creeping out from the corners of the screen. By the time Robbie suits up with a giant backpack ready to camp, it becomes impossible to look away. Without spoiling anything, we do indeed eventually discover more about Noelle that is enough to provide plenty of nightmare fuel. The sound design provides countless moments that stick, such as the blaring loudness of the music box “Swan Lake” tune that has been permanently seared into my brain.
Ultimately, Tinsman Road is a complete experience from beginning to end, one with surprising emotional resonance that speaks to the power of intimate indie storytelling. It frames the horrors in the repetition of early nightly terrors a la Paranormal Activity, yet builds towards a climax far more human in nature. Love it or hate it, few will ever forget their trip down the woodsy trails of Tinsman Road.
Audiences at 2025’s Brooklyn Horror Film Festival got lost down Tinsman Road.
