This contender for symbolic horror serves up a fresh batch of making the audience wonder “whose really crazy in this situation? me or the character I’m watching”

What starts as a slow, melodic drive into mayhem ends up feeling like a mashup of Honey, I Enlarged the Ants meets Stranger Things—but without the kids.

I won’t sugarcoat it—I wasn’t completely hooked throughout. This film drags its point through the mud one too many times. Scratch on scratch off… we get it. Can we move on?

What took me out of the experience was how repetitive the metaphors felt. The film keeps hammering the same ideas into your head while simultaneously veering off into completely unrelated subplots, leaving a bitter taste in the mouth. This padding is exactly what stretched the runtime past an hour and forty minutes. By the end, I was left scratching my head—was this a cryptic depiction of self-realization, deeply buried traumatizing acceptance, or a psychological horror film about mental dissociation and grief? Maybe all three? WHO’S TO SAY?

Now, let’s talk performances. Kelly Marie Tran absolutely pours her heart into the role of “Val.” But the way the film transitions between disjointed character arcs felt so unnatural, and that’s 100% due to the pacing. This entire concept could’ve been executed in an hour and fifteen minutes max, yet we’re taken on an overlong journey of diverging nightmares and ethereal uncertainty that left me begging for a break.

Visually, the film goes all-in on aesthetics. The spatial shots, dynamically shifting lighting, arch framing, and angelic compositions were beautiful—but at times, too poetic and self-indulgent. I get the whole “self-help is disingenuous” angle and how the film repeatedly throws that back at Val, but the execution feels cliché and uninspiring. Even at the very end, when we get a “just kidding, it’s not over” shot, it’s hard to feel anything but exhaustion.

Now, I don’t want to sound too negative, because there were aspects that this film absolutely nailed.

For one, the mirror-shattering sequence during Val’s DIY demon exorcism? Chef’s kiss.

And the sheer insanity of the climax? It felt straight out of an eldritch horror-inspired Dark Souls boss fight.

Finally, the pleasantly understood but dark realization of the reason behind her practice to hold her breath underwater.

Let’s talk about Robbie (Miles Robbins). Jesus, that man deserves Husband of the Year. Nobody likes dealing with writers (pause), but Robbie held the reins—and at one point, they even held him down. And after all of that, he still stayed? That’s loyalty, folks. Me? I would’ve been out faster than that ant crawled up her nose. (Kidding… kind of.)

While I wasn’t fully enthralled by the core plotline, the film presents an important variety of complex emotional struggles. It ultimately delivers a simple but effective truth:

You’re your own worst enemy, and the only way to truly break free is to confront what’s holding you back in the first place.

This journey is gritty, painful, and deeply personal—one that, in the words of Robert Frost, is a “road less traveled” by many. Grief is a natural deterrent to healing, and everyone processes it differently.

That said—would I recommend this film? Not necessarily. But if you’re into melancholic slow burns with the occasional monstrous abomination thrown in for horror, give it a shot.