Noise is a masterclass in psychological horror, and easily one of South Korea's most gripping horror films in recent memory. From its chilling sound design to its sharp cinematography, the film immerses viewers in an atmosphere thick with dread - and never lets go.
The story unfolds with an eerie simplicity that gradually unravels into something far more disturbing. The film relies heavily on tension, eerie silences, and - yes - a barrage of well-timed jump scares that had me on the edge of my seat throughout. Every shadow, every quiet hallway, every faint sound in the background plays into the paranoia, making even the stillest scenes terrifying.
What really sets Noise apart is the acting. The performances are raw, believable, and emotionally charged. The cast fully commits to the fear, grief, and desperation that builds as the story progresses, drawing you deeper into the characters' unraveling minds.
Cinematographically, the film is stunning. The use of muted colors, strategic lighting, and slow pans intensify the unease. Every frame feels intentional, every shot calculated to disturb - and it works brilliantly.
In a year already filled with horror releases, Noise stands out. It's not just scary - it's smart, well-crafted, and relentlessly creepy. If you're looking for an edge-of-your-seat thriller with depth and polish, this is it.
Verdict:
One of Korea's best horror offerings this year. Don't watch it alone.
