Still Ohio

2026 HORRORIGINS FILM FESTIVAL REVIEW! The Rust Belt gets a shiny new buckle with the classy high-concept horror flick Still Ohio, written and directed by Kaylin Allshouse in her feature debut. Ana (Fernanda Lopez) is transferring out of Boston College to Tulane University in New Orleans in order to be with her longtime boyfriend, Doug (Bradley Beachum). Instead of picking her up himself, Doug makes arrangements for Ana to join a carpool of his friends in Buffalo. Ana waits for hours outside a donut shop until Henry (Michael Zapesotsky) finally shows up in an old station wagon. Making out in the back seat are Julia (Sofia Uribe Angelopoulos) and Johnny (Jake Melamed), who are also heading back to school. They take off, crossing over the Ohio state line on an old highway road.

Ana (Fernanda Lopez), Julia (Sofia Uribe Angelopoulos), Henry (Michael Zapesotsky) and Johnny (Jake Melamed) gather inside the gas station in Still Ohio.

“When she asks the others about their friendship with Doug, she finds out that no one in the car really knows him at all.”

They stop at a lonely gas station, with Henry making Ana fill the tank. On the way out of the store, a creepy-looking weirdo (Cashton Tate Rehklau) makes a pass at Ana, making her feel icky. They are driving all night, as Ana is trying to get to Doug as soon as she can. When she asks the others about their friendship with Doug, she finds out that no one in the car really knows him at all. They come across a mangled deer in the road, with Henry wanting to call it in as a road obstruction. They can’t get phone service on the road, so they pull over at the next gas station. The next gas station looks exactly like the first one, same bathroom, same attendant, same everything. Then the same creepy weirdo shows up, heading straight to Ana with an evil grin…

Sentimentality drew me to review Still Ohio, as I moved there in the mid-90s because of something I read in Film Threat. Turns out the University of Toledo offered the cheapest film school in the country. An aspiring filmmaker could access cameras and such there at an in-state tuition that was much lower than renting equipment yourself. Ohio also offered fifteen-cent loaves of bread, two-dollar six-packs of beer, and Camel cigarettes for $1.36. It was a cost of living where even minimum wage could still get you a quality of life. As long as you had a car that didn’t break down constantly. Without reliable transportation, Ohio soon became an impossible ice-bound nightmare, which I had to flee to Austin from. So the concept of driving and driving while still being stuck in Ohio sounded as warm and familiar as a steaming bowl of Cincinnati-style chili mac.