SOURHAVEN (2026)

The arrival of a mysterious stranger at an old allotment on the fringes of London triggers a chain of strange events and uncanny rituals that upend the lives of its tightly-knit community.

Aiden Salter, a reclusive nature writer with a debilitating personality disorder, spends his days sealed inside his council-block bedsit, obsessively watching the allotment community below — the only family he has.

Down on the plots, canalboat dwellers Alvie, Rayna, Shay and David cling to each other on the forgotten edge of London’s Lea Valley. Each night, a shared terror gnaws at them, haunting dreams that blur the line between sleep and something far darker.

When Aiden finally steps into their world, the allotment is already under threat: a vanished Ukrainian boy, a plot-holder’s horrific suicide and police preparing to shutter the gardens within days. All signs begin to point toward Aiden himself…and to Elsie Bierce, a notorious American occult publisher drawn to the site like a moth to flame.

As ‘Ourhaven’, branded “Sourhaven” by local tabloids, faces closure, it readies to unearth it’s most diabolical secret.

Director Statement

Harking back to the kitchen sink dramas of 1960’s/70s British cinema, thematically and tonally, SOURHAVEN summons the moral grit of Tony Richardson (Mademoiselle), the eerie restraint of Bryan Forbes (Séance on a Wet Afternoon) and the elegant dread of Jack Clayton (The Innocents).

The ensemble film unfurls as a slow-burn descent into the uncanny, recalling Roeg’s fragmentation and Lynch’s dream logic but the narrative is character-driven.

This is supernatural thriller by way of kitchen sink drama, a cinema steeped in hauntology: the spectral, folkloric undercurrent that defined 1970s British television (The Stone Tape, A Ghost Story for Christmas) and the writings of W.B. Yeats, Arthur Machen, M.R. James, and Alan Garner.