Liam P
Lost in the Labyrinth: Where Lust and Longing Collide in the Pixelated Dark:
This film is not simply a horror movie; it’s a captivating exploration of human fragility in the digital age, a visceral descent into the isolating depths of loneliness and desire. It’s a story told in the flickering glow of screens, in the hushed whispers of late-night video calls, and in the raw, unflinching portrayal of a man on the brink.
Brendan Bradley delivers a performance of astonishing vulnerability as Chris, the weary single father navigating the wreckage of a broken marriage. He doesn't just portray loneliness; he embodies it. We feel the weight of his exhaustion in the slump of his shoulders, the tremor in his voice during strained FaceTime conversations with his estranged wife, Sharon (Olivia Grace Applegate, delivering a performance of quiet strength and palpable anxiety). We witness his yearning for connection in every hesitant swipe on his dating app, a modern ritual of hope and rejection played out in the cold light of his phone. While other reviews have focused on Rachel Cook's undeniable allure as Adra, it's the terrifying juxtaposition of her ethereal beauty with the chilling emptiness behind her eyes that truly elevates this movie. Adra is not just any seductive character. From the moment her luminescent, sensual gaze captures Chris, Cook’s performance crackles with a sinister energy, embodying the age-old temptation of a man seeking relief from the crushing pain of loneliness.
R.J. Daniel Hanna’s direction is masterful, wielding cinematic language with precision. His inventive camera usage gives the film its power. What some have mistakenly dismissed as a low-budget aesthetic is a brilliant use of visual metaphor, turning the mundane into the menacing. The tight framing of the initial screen-based scenes reinforces the sense of being boxed in. As the story intensifies and Adra draws Chris further into her world, the frame expands, especially during scenes of Adra in her horrifying true succubus persona. These scenes, best viewed on a large screen, possess a visceral, otherworldly power that will burn indelible images into viewers' imaginations long after the film ends. The subtly pulsing electronic score by Andrew Brick Johnson amplifies the creeping dread and the tension simmers during Chris and Adra's disturbing online rendezvous, becoming a terrifying, sadistic, yet darkly prescient crescendo. Hanna masterfully balances the eroticism of the genre with a thought-provoking discourse about how genuine intimacy manifests in our current reality.
Critics might mistakenly criticize the often exaggerated dialogue. However, it serves as symbolic caricature and a thought-provoking modern trope. The disjointed conversations highlight the chaotic dissonance created by our digital lives. Through masterful editing and intimate setting intercuts, such as when Eddie flirts with Adra while his mortified mother unknowingly yells at him through his monitor, the film captures the tragicomedy of colliding digital worlds. Ron Perlman as Dr. Zephyr brings an unsettling gravitas to the film. His pained intensity and quiet desperation in his attempts to communicate across the digital divide to a lost soul embody the movie’s key themes. Perlman masterfully encapsulates the universal desire for a safe, meaningful, and genuine connection, no matter the cost. The fact that his scenes were filmed in virtual isolation enhances the unnerving nature of his character, a victim of his own descent alongside Chris.
With reality colliding profoundly with demonic desire and the need for connection, Succubus sets a new standard in horror. It explores how these desires manifest in the digital age, raising a disturbing question: as we open ourselves to the digital void, will those whispers haunt us too, these desires as old as time itself?
Rated 5/5 Stars •
Rated 5 out of 5 stars
11/01/24
Full Review
Kyle H
This movies was terrible. The only way I can see it being currently at 81% positive reviews is because Rachel Cook's OnlyFans members must have given it high ratings, even though her acting was terrible. Avoid this movie.
Rated 1/5 Stars •
Rated 1 out of 5 stars
10/26/24
Full Review
Alexander M
Drowning in the Shallow End: A Digital Nightmare for the Overstimulated Soul:
This film is a dark jewel, a shimmering exploration of loneliness, desire, and the seductive pull of the digital void. It's a story of psychological unease that unfolds not in darkened basements or fog-shrouded graveyards, but in the sterile glow of a laptop screen, the echo of a disembodied voice on a video call, the relentless ping of a dating app.
Brendan Bradley gives a performance of remarkable sensitivity as Chris, a man teetering on the precipice of a breakdown. This is not the tired trope of the pathetic, emasculated male; this is a raw, unflinching portrait of a father, a husband, a person grappling with the crushing weight of modern life. The scene where he sits catatonic, tears silently streaming down his face as Ron Perlman's Dr. Zephyr delivers a chilling warning, is both heartbreaking and terrifying. Some might call Bradley's acting in these moments "droll" or "listless," or even a "phoned-in" performance, but they clearly weren't paying attention. The quiet intensity he gives, his nuanced portrayal, embodies what other actors and reviewers fail to grasp.
Rachel Cook's Adra is incandescent, enigmatic, everything a succubus should be. Cook gives us a creature of mesmerizing allure and primal magic, a haunting blend of innocence and danger, hope and despair, vulnerability and power. Her transformation in the movie's brutal, practical-effects-driven finale, from dream-lover to demonic power, is a feast for the eyes and captivates the viewer completely.
Director R.J. Daniel Hanna creates an atmosphere of creeping unease, using technology itself as a tool of terror. The intrusive buzzing of notifications, the pixelated glow of screens, the hushed intimacy of video chats: all become instruments in a symphony of dread and disturbance. The electronic score pulses, mirroring Chris's unraveling mental state.
What some have criticized as excessive dialogue is, in fact, another layer in the film's complex tapestry. Ron Perlman as the disgraced scientist adds another dimension to the film's exploration of loneliness and longing. His limited online interactions and detached performance make him a poignant, modern trope. The disjointed conversations emphasize social anxieties. Through masterful editing and darkly comedic moments, like Eddie receiving maternal guidance mid-flirtation (unaware his mother is on camera), the film skewers the absurdities of our digital world.
This is a film that will stay with you, a visceral experience not for the faint of heart. Is it excessive? Perhaps. But that is precisely where its power lies. Do we, seduced by the promise of connection and trapped by our screens, truly know the nature of the darkness lurking just beyond the screen, in ourselves, or those digital whispers promising a fulfillment that isn't remotely there?
Rated 5/5 Stars •
Rated 5 out of 5 stars
10/26/24
Full Review
Aiden S
The Siren in the Screen:
This isn't your garden-variety demon flick. This is a film that burrows deep under your skin, a chilling exploration of modern anxieties wrapped in a seductive, darkly humorous package. It's a story about connection, or rather the desperate lack thereof, in a world saturated by screens and superficial swipes. From the first unsettling scene of a desperate scientist, Dr. Zephyr (a magnetic Ron Perlman), trying to share his world-altering research via shaky webcam footage, the film establishes a unique visual language, a claustrophobic intimacy born from our dependence on technology.
While some have criticized the film's heavy reliance on screen-based interactions, this "flaw" is precisely its strength. Director R.J. Daniel Hanna masterfully uses the familiar glow of phones, laptops, and the unnerving surveillance of the baby monitor not only to tell a story, but to create a chilling metaphor for our increasingly mediated existence. We become voyeurs, trapped alongside Chris (a captivatingly vulnerable Brendan Bradley) in his digitally walled world. We see his desperation mirrored in every hesitant swipe, every furtive glance at his phone as he searches for solace in the void of online dating. The camerawork by Jimmy Jung Lu reinforces this isolation, utilizing tight close-ups that highlight the subtle tremor in Chris's hand, the flicker of doubt in his eye, intercut with quick, distant camera angles of Rachel Cook's mesmerizing portrayal of the sultry Adra. Cook's Adra radiates both deep connection and raw animal lust across the miles. These isolated shots become more unsettling still when Chris realizes this virtual siren he's come to depend on is not human, but otherworldly. This shock-and-awe reveal during a terrifying, sadistic, and almost darkly comedic dream sequence ends with a scream, a whisper, and something unforgettable, perhaps the truest nightmare horror onscreen ever imagined.
This movie succeeds where others, like Hanna's earlier work in Miss Virginia, focused primarily on social commentary. It subtly blends important themes surrounding masculinity and vulnerability through an eerie, hypnotic score by Andrew Brick Johnson. Quiet synth chords mix with pulsating bass lines to echo that ancient, timeless, primal desire, especially during Chris' poignant monologues, including his heartbreaking, soul-baring confession after the tragic end. By emphasizing each character's inevitable emotional, psychic, and physical breakdown, the film achieves a horror of an entirely different magnitude.
Some reviewers have criticized certain secondary characters, such as Chris’ mother, for their awkward, over-intrusive, and overly verbose conversations. However, I found this a creative storytelling and casting choice. These characters become caricatures within a story unfolding for and through Chris and Adra’s respective digital spaces, a familiar trope within modern online personas. In these portrayals, we suddenly realize just how alienated Chris has been feeling while simultaneously emphasizing the very reasons this intelligent young man has fallen for Adra's allure. A standout moment involves Chris interacting with Adra on his laptop, unaware that his mother and wife are observing him through the baby monitor, as his friend Eddie makes inappropriate remarks during a simultaneous conversation. When Eddie's mother enters the frame to chastise him, unaware she's on camera, it creates a nail-biting blend of techno-horror and dark comedy. This juxtaposition of intimate settings (office, bedroom, and home) reveals a unique visual and thematic narrative brilliance.
Ron Perlman's portrayal of Dr. Orion Zephyr, the disgraced scientist desperately trying to redeem his tarnished reputation through online interactions with Chris, adds another layer of thematic depth. Perlman's brief, almost detached performance captures Orion's emotional isolation, lending a poignant gravitas to his pivotal role. The fact that his scenes were filmed in virtual isolation enhances, not detracts from, the power of his storyline, making them all the more unnerving.
In our increasingly artificial virtual world, with reality colliding evermore profoundly with another world filled with demonic desire and a desperate need for connection (no matter its horrific cost), Succubus sets a new paradigm not just within the modern urban-legend myth genre, but within horror itself. By exploring not just where and when such desires can occur, but how they manifest in our digital age, the film taps into a primal fear: will those digital whispers haunt us too, as these desires, now more than ever, become as ancient as ancient stories themselves?
Rated 5/5 Stars •
Rated 5 out of 5 stars
10/24/24
Full Review
Francesca K
Really inventive psychological horror movie. Loved it. Modern parable for dating in the digital age.
Rated 5/5 Stars •
Rated 5 out of 5 stars
10/14/24
Full Review
David W
Whispers of Desire, Screams of Truth: A Modern Gothic Masterpiece:
As a casual moviegoer, I often find myself gravitating towards lighter fare: rom-coms or action flicks that offer pure escapism. However, something about Succubus whispered to me, promising a journey beyond the ordinary. I'm so grateful I heeded that call, for R.J. Daniel Hanna’s film has not only captivated me, but profoundly shifted my understanding of modern storytelling within the horror genre.
Brendan Bradley's portrayal of Chris, the beleaguered new father adrift in a sea of self-doubt and loneliness, is nothing short of breathtaking. He embodies the everyman with heartbreaking authenticity, drawing us into his vulnerabilities and anxieties as a single dad struggling to reconnect not just with a potential new partner, but more importantly with himself and his almost broken family unit. We see in the actor not pity, but sympathetic understanding. The humor from other, lighter aspects within Chris’ character offers some relieving sighs while building and maintaining tension, leading to its inevitably horrific resolution.
Rachel Cook's portrayal of Adra transcends the typical "monster" trope. A fiery intelligence dances beneath the surface of her dark presence onscreen, illuminating a captivating creature of ancient, timeless yearnings. She owns every scene, captivating with slow deliberation, then delivering a masterfully primal, powerful final full-body form performance. She manipulates not only Chris within her wicked web of desire, but also the viewers, keeping them enthralled with her subtle allure, then shocking with her chilling revelations. In both her appearance onscreen and as only a whispered promise via phone and video chat, we feel an otherworldly magnetic pull toward this succubus, this personification of feminine fortitude, prowess, and magic.
In a particularly interesting transition, Hanna starts his film in the confines of online communication: texts, and antiseptic screen time. Cleverly so, we are asked to divide our attention between video chats and chat screens. It's an anxiety-inducing and all-too-familiar feeling. Attention is divided, and motivations are diluted. At this point, we sort of understand why Chris might give in to the siren call of Adra. Then, the film's scope eases beyond screentime to the real world. This is easily one of the more elegant transitions between found footage and traditional cinematic storytelling that I have seen in a while. Production design by Eric Peterson also shines. Props like baby bottles, monitors, even simply a glowing red wall become imbued with a sense of unease and foreboding. Peterson masterfully uses the mundane to amplify the growing horror.
The technical aspects of the film are equally impressive. Cinematographer Jimmy Jung Lu creates a series of haunting close-ups during Chris' intimate scenes with Adra and startling far-range shots during dream sequences that give you chills; the images are burned into your memory long after the film ends. While some scenes offer almost a Polanski feel from Repulsion, each frame is not cliché, nor merely imitative. R.J. Daniel Hanna gives a unique modern twist with Succubus, offering artful, genius visuals.
Succubus goes beyond simple scares. Hanna uses horror as a lens to scrutinize the shadows cast by our digital lives. The film becomes a battleground, challenging the protagonist, and the audience, to confront the reality that the digital world, while connecting us in one way, may consume us in another. The film creates these digital interactions in a very down-to-earth and authentic form, giving a creepy, real feel of plausibility and disturbance.
This movie, while having many aspects that are unique, delivers more through story and character-specific monologues; in Bradley’s, then Adra’s yearning, desperate cries not to cause pain but for validation, before descending or rising powerfully – hauntingly – towards some unknown resolution. This leaves audiences pensive as end credits roll, begging each and all, including and especially lifelong fans of not merely thrillers but rather any connoisseur for stories involving human spirit versus falling victim to that evil existing perhaps in many places: inside and perhaps throughout even our technology. This Succubus delivers. With thought-provoking style, it offers a few scares, a little sensuality, and haunting beauty. It challenges and perhaps provokes viewers to consider that age-old universal need within: Where do we go? How far can anyone even go? And who do we, how might we, eventually allow technology into those once-deemed intimate, most guarded private spaces within us, between souls? And more importantly, at what sometimes horrific, shocking, terrifying price – as played to masterful levels in Bradley’s raw, honest yearning cry – not just before, but during and now always, will viewers know what is haunting us?
Rated 5/5 Stars •
Rated 5 out of 5 stars
10/26/24
Full Review
Read all reviews
>
