Two paramedics, Victor and Demian, are on their shift when they are called to pick up a woman, Sylvia, and take her to the hospital. In her burnt hands she is clutching a golden medallion, chattering hysterically that there is more where it came from.
While Victor has a playboy lifestyle to maintain, Demian has overdue bills, mounting debt, and a daughter to take care of after the illness and passing of his wife. Finding any of this treasure would help beyond measure. The pair set out to find this mystery treasure trove and bag the riches.
Beneath Sylvia’s house is the basement of an old house that belonged to a wealthy European engineer named Anton ages ago. The story goes, while Anton acquired his wealth, his wife, Hilma, fell ill and passed away. No amount of money in the world could save her, or bring her back, so Anton resorted to the dark arts of the occult in a final attempt to return her to him.
As the dark arts are wont to do, it went very bad for Anton, he was turned into a creature known as The Engineer, a being with supernatural, electromagnetic powers. He was dragged into another dimension, never to be seen again.
When Victor and Demian raid the basement they inadvertently activate a dimensional portal. In doing so, they unleash The Engineer, who is willing to do anything to recover the treasure that allows him to travel between dimensions.
Remanente: Voltagem / Remanence: A Voltage Cosmic Tale is a fresh cosmic horror outing from Brazilian veteran filmmaker and special effects artist Kapel Furman (Skull: The Mask, Embodiment of Evil).
What Remanence lacked in budget (believe us, we know), it more than compensated for in ingenuity and creativity. Shot on less than a shoestring, the lo-fi aesthetic is one of its greatest assets. The practical effects, both in make up and creature, are a recognition of horror’s hands-on legacy—messy and goopy, inventive and engaging. The violent deaths are pulled off with a sense of playfulness and creativity that elevates the film’s modest production.
Taking pages from the books written by great practical visual effects artists like Stan Winston, Rob Bottin, and Rick Baker, Furman was very hands on with their film. From writing and directing they designed the special effects, the character, even to go as far as fabricating the cosmic creature puppets and giving them life on screen. He is a true, contemporary hero of visual and practical effects. Remanence resists the urge to overcompensate with digital effects. Their use is minimal and does not undermine the grounded, physical nature of what’s on screen.
This is a delightfully stripped-down cosmic horror—made with the “keep it simple, Stupid” philosophy. The film leans into a straightforward narrative, allowing its strengths to shine where they matter most: atmosphere, texture, and tactile filmmaking.
This is the kind of movie that feels tailor-made for midnight screenings. Its breezy, no-frills plot avoids unnecessary complications, making it an ideal end-of-day festival watch. There’s no demand for overanalysis—just sit back, surrender to its scrappy charm, and appreciate the confidence behind its economical storytelling.