Nyctophobia

I recently watched Nyctophobia with my friends, and what an experience it was. We all gathered to watch it together, not really knowing what to expect, but by the end, we were all blown away. Some of us were scared, some were frozen in silence, and others couldn't stop talking about how real everything felt. It was the kind of film that doesn't just entertain-it sticks with you.

The story follows a woman suffering from an intense fear of the dark, and the way it was shown felt incredibly real. The fear didn't come from ghosts or monsters, but from the mind-those quiet moments, the darkness, the silence, and the feeling that someone is watching. It was haunting but in the best way.

The person behind this film did an amazing job showing what fear looks and feels like. Every shot, every scene, every moment felt carefully done to make us feel what the character was going through. The acting was so strong that even without much dialogue, we could feel her fear, sadness, and anxiety.

There were times we were all sitting still, not even moving, just waiting to see what would happen next. The atmosphere was so intense, and that made the experience even more exciting.

Even though it was scary, we had so much fun watching it together. We laughed, we screamed, we talked about it long after it ended. I honestly think this is the kind of film people should watch in every gathering. It's scary, deep, and unforgettable.

If you enjoy a good scare and something that makes you think too, Nyctophobia is the perfect film. You'll want to see it again-and maybe even share it with more friends.

Nyctophobia, in scientific terms, is a crippling fear of the dark and what it might be hiding. People with this condition have extreme anxiety when they're in the dark or think about darkness. Such people also have difficulty getting sleep and thus, their lives are in a perpetual state of fear and unease.

Written and directed by Seayoon Jeong, Nyctophobia is a 2024 horror feature that stars Olivia Clari Nice, Sophia Biscotti and David Rannan Ellner. The film is a story of a young woman Liz who struggles with nyctophobia. Tired, anxious and unable to sleep, Liz will find her worst fears realized as her condition slowly takes a turn for the worse. She desperately tries to fall asleep by entering her inner world where she can access her happy childhood memories. However, she ultimately becomes trapped in her lucid dream world and encounters her worst nightmare.

I never expected Nyctophobia to be as hard hitting as it turned out to be. Anchored by fantastic makeup and creature design, the film is genuinely haunting. I can only imagine how people with such a disorder manage to get sleep but what Nyctophobia does is that it manages to apprise general audiences that such a condition indeed exists and it is nothing short of hell.

Olivia Clari Nice as Liz Whitman is a revelation. Not only does her measured performance anchor the film, Whitman's journey of survival finds us rooting for her wholeheartedly. On the other hand, there are equally great turns by the bad guys. From the clown cops to the eerie dancing ladies, all monsters are terrifying and disturbing.

The 90 minute feature whizzes by in a flash, courtesy of brisk editing that keeps us on our toes. Jeong knows how to craft a potent horror thriller as the pacing switches back and forth allowing the audience to have a false sense of comfort before plunging them into chaos once again. Technically, the film manages to knock it out of the park. The black and white cinematography works well to illustrate the visual aspect of the fear. However, what works best is how color frequently manages to break through this monotonous palette. Each such instance signifies something important and this is one of the few visual tools that Jeong employs to make her story that much more engaging.

Thus, Seayoon Jeong's Nyctophobia is a potent film, one that successfully immortalizes a particular fear that is all too real. With haunting visuals and great performances, this one is a winner. Five out of five stars from me.

Nyctophobia is less a conventional horror film than a slow, surreal dive into the subconscious-a cinematic anxiety spiral wrapped in dream logic and drenched in atmosphere. Written and directed by Seayoon Jeong, the film follows Liz (Olivia Clari Nice), a young woman struggling with the titular fear of the dark. As insomnia eats away at her sanity, Liz slips into a dream world where childhood memories and nightmares blur, and nothing-especially not time or space-feels safe or linear.

What distinguishes Nyctophobia is its commitment to mood over plot. There's a confidence in how it lets its images and silences speak. Olivia Clari Nice gives a mostly wordless performance, grounded in physicality and expression. Her portrayal of Liz is both fragile and haunted, anchoring the film's more abstract elements in something deeply human.

The visual design is where Nyctophobia excels. From mannequin-filled classrooms to clown-faced authority figures, the film embraces a nightmarish surrealism that recalls Lynch or early Aronofsky, albeit with more heart and less edge. A carousel tunnel becomes a warping dream-puzzle, old televisions glitch with unsettling nostalgia, and color is used sparingly but pointedly-especially the saturated reds against grayscale backdrops. These touches give the film a lo-fi, arthouse texture that leans into the theatricality of dreams.

That said, not everything works equally well. The clown motif, while tied to childhood trauma, feels tired in the horror landscape-even if this isn't strictly a horror film. Some sequences, like the disco room or the exaggerated vintage costuming, can feel more style than substance. The symbolic layering-though rich in suggestion-never quite coalesces into a thematically deep interrogation of fear, memory, or trauma. You get a mood, a feeling, a sense-but not necessarily a revelation.

Still, Jeong's refusal to spoon-feed meaning is admirable. Nyctophobia trusts its viewers to sit with ambiguity, and while the pacing is slow and intentionally disorienting, the film remains visually engaging throughout. It's the kind of work that prioritizes sensation over narrative clarity, and for those receptive to its dreamlike rhythm, it offers something rare in indie psychological horror: an aesthetic and emotional experience over easy resolution.

In short, Nyctophobia is flawed, but fascinating. It won't be for everyone, but if you're drawn to introspective, visually expressive films that explore mental states through experimental storytelling, this one might just get under your skin. It's not just about fear of the dark-it's about understanding what that darkness contains.

Seayoon Jeong's Nyctophobia is not just another indie horror experiment - it's a precise, slow-burning exploration of fear, memory, and the fragile boundary between reality and hallucination. Anchored by a minimalist yet haunting atmosphere, the film delivers a chilling experience that proves style and substance can thrive even in confined spaces.

The title, which refers to an intense fear of the dark, sets the stage for a narrative built almost entirely on psychological unease rather than cheap jump scares. From the opening frame, Jeong wastes no time establishing a tone of quiet dread. The film's lead - a woman struggling with trauma, isolation, and escalating paranoia - finds herself trapped in what seems like a safe domestic environment. But as night falls and the lights flicker out, the darkness becomes a character of its own.

What makes Nyctophobia compelling is how it uses the absence of light as a storytelling device. Jeong's direction is careful and deliberate, emphasizing shadows, negative space, and subtle sound design to suggest horror rather than show it outright. It's a smart and effective approach that harks back to the psychological thrillers of the '70s while maintaining a distinctly modern aesthetic.

Performance-wise, the film benefits immensely from its central actress (whose name deserves mention once the cast list is officially available). Her portrayal of escalating fear is nuanced - never over-the-top, yet deeply visceral. With minimal dialogue, she communicates a spectrum of emotions: dread, confusion, desperation, and ultimately, a resigned acceptance of her fate.

The cinematography is stark and claustrophobic, with tight shots and dim lighting that mirror the protagonist's deteriorating mental state. The editing is restrained, allowing scenes to breathe and tension to build slowly - a refreshing change from the frenetic pacing typical of mainstream horror.

That said, Nyctophobia may test the patience of some viewers. Its pacing is methodical, and those expecting constant thrills might find it too subdued. The narrative also leans heavily into ambiguity, especially in the final act, where reality blurs completely. But rather than feeling incomplete, this ambiguity enhances the experience, leaving space for interpretation and lingering unease.

Jeong's thematic exploration is subtly layered. Beyond its horror trappings, Nyctophobia touches on grief, trauma, and the unseen scars people carry. The darkness is not just literal - it's symbolic of unresolved guilt and the terror of confronting one's inner demons. This psychological underpinning gives the film surprising emotional weight.

In short, Nyctophobia is not bad at all - in fact, it's a striking and confident debut that suggests Seayoon Jeong is a filmmaker to watch. It may not reinvent the horror genre, but it respects it, and in doing so, it offers a thought-provoking experience for fans of atmospheric, introspective storytelling.

Nyctophobia looks stunning but doesn't have much narrative outside of the protagonist's struggle to break free from her nightmares and anxiety. By nature, experimental filmmaking doesn't require a narrative, but 90 minutes is quite a long time to not have a plot or character fleshed out beyond suffering from nyctophobia; casual viewers might find their attention waning after the first 30 minutes. Having said that, as an informative art piece, Nyctophobia succeeds at both representing symptoms of the disorder beyond just a fear of the dark and the general surreal nature of dreams and nightmares. The woman struggling to sleep peacefully, credited as Liz (Olivia Clari Nice), is dropped into many strange scenarios without much of a blink, rolling along with the dream "logic" even though it always roughly ends with masked figures blocking her path and even causing her harm. There's a recognizable pattern to her behavior and her dreams; there's even a sequence where she's taking a school exam, a common anxiety dream even for people without an anxiety disorder. All of this strangeness is sold through not only Nice's excellent physicality (there isn't much dialogue, so her body language takes center stage) but also through the overall look and sound of the film. The bursts of color throughout the otherwise black-and-white film are carefully measured, never feeling like too much, and the sound design is hypnotic, especially towards the end when Liz's sleep becomes more restful. While I do think it might have worked better as either a much shorter film or as the same length but with a more realized character, Nyctophobia is still a visually and aurally arresting piece for those into more arthouse films.