The first thing that struck me about Kane Parsons’ Backrooms wasn’t the monsters, or, as they refer to them, “Simulacrums.”
It was the silence.
Not literal silence, but the suffocating quiet that exists between the fluorescent hum, the endless yellow hallways, and the feeling that reality itself has begun to decay. Kane Parsons has created one of the most unsettling cinematic experiences I’ve seen in years. It’s also the most ethereal film A24 has released since Men (2022), a movie that similarly refused easy explanations in favor of pure psychological immersion.
If you’re looking for a film that ties every thread into a neat little bow, Backrooms isn’t interested. It poses questions, hints at answers, then, like its main character Clark, leaves you wandering those endless corridors long after the credits roll. That’s exactly why it works.
Parsons understands that the unknown is always scarier than the explained.
Clark (Chiwetel Ejiofor), a struggling furniture store owner battling alcoholism and the collapse of his marriage, discovers a hidden doorway beneath his store leading to an endless labyrinth of fluorescent-lit rooms, impossible architecture, and something waiting in the darkness.
When his therapist, Dr. Mary Kline (Renate Reinsve), follows him into the mysterious dimension, the pair discover the Backrooms are far more than an alternate reality. They’re a fractured, living reflection of memory, guilt, fear, and trauma itself.
The Backrooms themselves become more than a location. They’re trauma given physical form. They’re grief. Regret. Addiction. Lost potential. A faulty copy of reality where every room feels familiar enough to be comforting yet wrong enough to make your skin crawl.
Every hallway seems to stretch forever, every flickering fluorescent light suggests something just outside your peripheral vision. The production design and cinematography create an oppressive atmosphere that becomes almost hypnotic. Rather than relying on jump scares, the film slowly suffocates you until you’re questioning every shadow.
The performances are wonderfully restrained.
Ejiofor could have played Clark as another man descending into madness, but instead gives us someone quietly unraveling from the inside out. His alcoholism, failed marriage, and crushed ambitions make him feel heartbreakingly human before the Backrooms ever get their hooks into him.
Renate Reinsve is equally terrific as the therapist Mary, bringing empathy and intelligence to a role that could easily have become exposition. She projects the exact sense of unease the film requires, grounding the increasingly surreal story with an emotional honesty that never feels forced.
The supporting cast, particularly Mark Duplass as the mysterious Async researcher, adds just enough texture to the mythology without explaining too much. That’s another strength of the film. It trusts the audience. Async remains fascinating precisely because we never fully understand it.
What surprised me most was how immersive the experience becomes. Parsons, who adapted the film from his CreepyPasta webseries, doesn’t simply ask us to watch the Backrooms. He makes us feel trapped inside them. Every new environment feels dreamlike and wrong, stitched together from half-remembered places that exist somewhere between memory and nightmare. Even when the film becomes surreal, it never loses its emotional anchor.
The horror isn’t just what lurks in the shadows. It’s the realization that reality itself can become unreliable.
That won’t work for everyone. Some viewers will undoubtedly leave frustrated that the film doesn’t explain every creature, every hallway, or every mystery. I wasn’t one of them. Horror has always been most effective when it leaves space for our imagination to do the heavy lifting. Backrooms understands that beautifully.
This is an audacious feature debut from Parsons, who proves that the eerie minimalism of his web series wasn’t a gimmick but the foundation for a remarkably confident filmmaker. He transforms internet folklore into existential horror without losing what made the original concept so haunting.
Like the best nightmares, Backrooms doesn’t end when you wake up. The film is in theaters and now on digital.
It follows you home, waits in the corner of your mind, and makes every empty hallway you walk through feel just a little bit different.
BOTTOM LINE: Backrooms isn’t just scary; it’s hypnotic. First-time feature director Kane Parsons crafts A24’s most ethereal horror experience since Men, delivering a film soaked in dread, trauma, and unforgettable atmosphere. It’s a REEL SEE.
The Geek is a working screenwriter, director and screenwriting instructor.
