Liz Whitman (Olivia Clari Nice) is a troubled young woman plagued by a crippling fear of the dark. However, sleepless nights become the least of her worries when a particularly harrowing lucid dream episode turns dangerous, sending her into a world where a mysterious figure is in hot pursuit. An all-out mind-bender of the experimental kind, Seayoon Jeong’s indie horror feature Nyctophobia is a unique beast.
From a conceptual perspective, the film is fascinating from the get-go as it showcases Liz’s fears tangibly. She refuses to crawl into bed without the lights on, and when she finally commits to sleeping, she can only accomplish it by lulling herself into a trance with the help of metronomes. This kind of induced “lucid dreaming” is meant to be a safe haven and a method of self-preservation, but slowly but surely, her fears begin to bleed over. It’s a complex, constantly intersecting plot with real-world implications and supernatural shenanigans, all of which are handled brilliantly by Olivia Clari Nice in the lead. She is simply outstanding in a role that’s guaranteed recognition for accomplishing so much with so little. She slips in and out of some surprising dream scenarios that are physically, vocally, and spiritually demanding without missing a beat.
It’s always interesting to see how different storytellers approach the idea of a dreamworld. Everybody has a different set of rules and a varying vision of how it should look and feel. In Nyctophobia, the sheer number of compositions, locations, and visual labyrinths that Jeong and her team put forward are staggering. They are highly elaborate and creative where Liz, and we the audience, never know what will come our way. The cinematography (Michael Candelori) in particular is stellar and relies on selective splashes of color, a unique style that thankfully never gets gimmicky. When the saturation is all the way down, the feature balances delicately between modern flourishes and past influences like the original Twilight Zone series. And while it would be more than appropriate to drone on about Nyctophobia’s effective use of a monochromatic palette paired with this aforementioned coloring, the sound design (Charlie Hurtado) is arguably just as impressive. The foley work of Leandro Villalobos in particular stands out, and in a story that relies heavily on silence over spoken dialogue, it definitely elevates Jeong’s vision.
Jeong places a lot of faith in her audience to carry through some of the more abstract concepts of the film. It’s a slow-burn in the truest sense that eschews all manner of cheap thrills we have gotten used to from modern-day horror and leans into the psychological aspect with vigor. Does it stick the landing? It certainly has its issues where pacing and narrative structuring go, operating a bit on the vaguer side of things that might not appeal to everybody. But what is undeniable is its impact in the moment—an emotionally taxing experience that rewards patience. So if, for example, you love the kind of auteur-driven horror pieces that A24 has been pushing out recently, you’ll probably have a great time with Nyctophobia and its many subliminal messages.
