Nyctophobia

Nyctophobia isn't your average horror film-it's an experience. Seayoon Jeong crafts a surreal, psychological journey through the mind of a woman gripped by fear and memory. What stood out to me was how the film trusted its audience to sit with discomfort, to embrace the strange and symbolic. Olivia Clari Nice gives a deeply vulnerable performance, carrying the story with silence, movement, and sheer presence. The nightmarish visuals-particularly the mannequin classroom and the clown cops-felt like lucid dreams gone wrong. It's experimental and slow-burning, but every frame feels deliberate. If you're expecting jump scares or typical horror pacing, this might not be your film. But if you appreciate atmospheric storytelling with emotional and artistic depth, Nyctophobia will stick with you. It dares to show that darkness isn't just something to fear-it's something to understand. A must-watch for fans of introspective, arthouse horror.

Out of the MANY movies I've rated this is only the 6th to get a 1/10, and it's WELL deserved. Most movies have some kind of redeeming quality, something that they do well. This doesn't. It's pretentious (black-and-white and all). It's agonizingly slow. It's surrealist with no real plot to give it direction. It's the kind of thing that's produced when a writer thinks far too highly of themself. It's as if the writer/director absolutely despises every single human being and wants to punish them.

This is supposed to be the various stages of falling asleep, but it's really just an excuse for surrealist slop. Every stage (and really, every scene) goes on FAR longer than it should. As in, five minutes for something that should have been 15 seconds. There are also numerous times when entire sequences are replayed with no variation whatsoever. I wound up skipping past her singing a boring song for at least five minutes. During the next stage I left the room to go do something, came back and the same thing was on the screen. It's not just that these scenes are boring and overly long, they serve no purpose because there's no plot to begin with.

There are more than a few elements that are reminiscent of Eraserhead (the writer/director is clearly a fan), but without the necessary talent none of the imagery has any impact. Things that are clearly meant to be creepy just come off as painfully dumb.

The only reason I even made it through this was a sort of fascination that a movie could be so bad and actually get released. It's like when your friend is proud of something and you don't have the heart to tell them that it's terrible. The movie is excruciating, and the only people that will like it are critics that want to feel intelligent.

There's a lot to admire in this film, even if the whole doesn't quite come together. It's a surreal, often hypnotic descent into the hazy, fragmented experience of falling asleep - or more accurately, of fighting sleep. The filmmaker clearly has a strong grasp of visual mood and tone, and there's a level of artistic commitment here that demands respect.

Stylistically, it's striking. The black-and-white cinematography, punctuated by vivid bursts of color à la Sin City, creates a haunting contrast that pulls your eye exactly where it needs to go. It doesn't just look beautiful - it feels intentional, calculated, poetic. The selective color isn't just a gimmick; it adds emotional texture, highlighting specific moods and memories like flickers in a dream.

The sound design is also worth noting - it's immersive, atmospheric, and often carries entire scenes. In moments where the visuals slow to a crawl, the sonic environment continues doing the heavy lifting, deepening the sensory experience in a way that feels deliberate and well-crafted.

That said, the film struggles with pacing. Several scenes linger far beyond their emotional or narrative weight. Repetition is used - perhaps as a way to mirror the cyclical nature of sleeplessness - but not always effectively. Some viewers may interpret the loops and long silences as meditative, but they can also feel like endurance tests.

There's no traditional plot to latch onto, and while that's not a problem in itself, the emotional throughline could've been more defined. The film asks for a lot of patience and offers atmosphere and abstraction in return. For some, that will be enough. For others, it may feel like a missed opportunity for a tighter, more layered narrative.

Nyctophobia is an experimental feature tackling insomnia and anxiety. It is a strange fantasy shot in stylish black and white interspersed with some splash of bright colors, a la Robert Rodriguez's Sin City.

The movie takes place over the course of a night as a woman suffering from nyctophobia (phobia of the dark) and insomnia tries to go to sleep peacefully. As so many would attest, it is not as easy as it should. She keeps getting interrupted by frightening visions in her bizarre dream. It is also implied she might be suffering from anxiety as well, exhibiting all too common hyper vigilance often associated with the disorder.

Depicted through a series of bizarre, macabre imagery, the disorder takes on symbolic presence marked by the presence of murderous clowns, somehow. They become the proxy for the monsters that haunt the mind, the villains our heroine must fight off in order to be able to sleep. The abstract imagery accurately portrays the never ending cycle of anxiety with its intrusive thoughts, scary worst case scenario in one's head. The visual is confidently conceived, well shot and atmospheric - a crucial element since the film hinges on its ambience.

The surreal approach works thanks to a stand out performance by the lead actress. She holds down the fort as the lone speaking character for the whole 90 minute duration. She's so dynamic in this role, always game for the film's many many insane sequences which count multiple dancing and action scenes. She's just as affecting in the quieter moment in the real world, capturing the desperation of sleeplessness.

On the weaker side, the film is a little bit repetitive in its bid to draw out the creepy factor. It seemingly does not realize it has made its point about two-third way through. As a result, the second half feels too indulgent and precious. Some editing here and there might be just what it needs.

All in all, boasting strong visual, impressive acting performance and a profound understanding of the disorder it portrays, the film is a work of art that largely works as a statement piece, though not really as a narrative piece.

This film will not hold your hand. It won't give you jump scares, tidy resolutions, or an easy sense of closure. Instead, it invites you into a quiet, often uncomfortable space - the kind that mirrors the disorienting experience of drifting in and out of sleep while carrying the weight of anxiety or trauma.

It's a risky approach, and for some, it may feel too abstract or slow. But to dismiss it as meaningless because it doesn't follow a conventional narrative does a disservice not only to the filmmaker - but to the idea of film as a vessel for emotional truth.

The visuals are haunting: black-and-white frames punctuated by sudden washes of color, like emotional memories bleeding into the subconscious. The pacing may be meditative, even glacial at times, but that slowness isn't empty - it's evocative. The repetition mirrors the looping thoughts of insomnia, the stagnation of emotional paralysis. These choices feel intentional, not careless.

What truly carries the film, though, is its mood. The sound design is immersive and organic, drawing you into the liminal space between dread and surrender. The long silences, the distorted lullabies, the feeling that time has stretched and bent - it's all in service of a raw, vulnerable experience that many mainstream films would never dare to explore.

Still, this is not a film for everyone. Its dreamlike structure and lack of traditional progression may alienate some viewers, and there are moments where even the emotionally invested may crave a bit more variation or narrative shape. But for those willing to meet it on its terms, it offers a strange and strangely beautiful form of catharsis.

It may not be perfect - but it's brave, deeply felt, and unlike anything else I've seen this year.