Succubus

The Plot: A new father struggling with fatigue, emotional insecurities, and a failing marriage joins a dating app, only to swipe right on what may be an inhuman presence.

This is perhaps the WORST movie made in 2024. Perhaps in the past ten full years. There is nothing to recommend it so I am shocked by the "ten" ratings saying this is a classic.

It's downright horrible on every level.

The direction is less than mediocre. The dude who directed this trash should never work again. The pace is literally slower than pouring honey in a glass.

You will find yourself saying -- can we get to the point already?

Plus, the script is way sub-par and the acting is mediocre at best.

Generally, the horror genre has not been the go-to category for streaming services lately, with most product mainly imitative, paying only lip-service to the classics. 2024 however has a different feel to it, with some very talented people, both in front of and behind the camera, approaching the core notion of horror from new and interesting angles. Check out for example the novel scripting in ABIGAIL, LONGLEGS, and the completely unforgettable (even if you actually want to) THE SUBSTANCE. SUCCUBUS 2024 continues this trend. Creator R. J. Daniel Hanna, best known for the well-received social drama MISS VIRGINIA 2019, goes genre-hopping here. He attempts to deliver a product that both scares and educates at the same time. The really scary (!) thing is that it almost hits both targets, with a tale that is unique enough to hold attention, and alert enough to flag the "horror" of Social Media in our daily lives. Perlman as supporting actor always adds gravitas to any production, and Rachel Cook will likely bring in enough of her worldwide fans to put SUCCUBUS on the 2024 Leaderboard. ((Designated "IMDb Top Reviewer." Please check out my list "167+ Nearly-Perfect Movies (with the occasional Anime or TV miniseries) you can/should see again and again (1932 to the present))

I didn't have high expectations but the movie turned out to be quite good. It kept me on the edge of my seat and wasn't bored at all.

The actors were all good. Rachel Cook's performance was great. I was really surprised by it because after watching her previous movie (Kill Shot) I wasn't sure if she had much acting skills. But she was awesome in this one.

While the majority of the film was great, it completely fell apart in the final act. What an anticlimactic conclusion to an otherwise great little horror story.

Because of the stereotypical horror cliffhanger I would love to see a sequel especially if it doesn't pick up 6 months later but 20 years later or something like that. I think there is a lot of potential there.

(And just a sidenote: Was the full.frontal male nudity really necessary?)

If you thought this movie will be full of sexy demon scenes, you are dead wrong. Half of the movie is this guy going to Tinder while getting a separation from his wife and feeling guilty about it. There are some funny interactions there, but that's not the subject of the movie. Instead it's this demon lady who has an obsession with him, and which also influences people through screens. Meanwhile, the one who knows most about the demon is Ron Perlman, who mostly talks to our hero... you guessed it... via video chat. Yes, people on screens making films about people on screens which you watch on a screen. Human experience in a nutshell.

Trust me, stay away from this.

This film is a dark jewel, a shimmering exploration of loneliness, desire, and the seductive pull of the digital void. It's a story of psychological unease that unfolds not in darkened basements or fog-shrouded graveyards, but in the sterile glow of a laptop screen, the echo of a disembodied voice on a video call, the relentless ping of a dating app.

Brendan Bradley gives a performance of remarkable sensitivity as Chris, a man teetering on the precipice of a breakdown. This is not the tired trope of the pathetic, emasculated male; this is a raw, unflinching portrait of a father, a husband, a person grappling with the crushing weight of modern life. The scene where he sits catatonic, tears silently streaming down his face as Ron Perlman's Dr. Zephyr delivers a chilling warning, is both heartbreaking and terrifying. Some might call Bradley's acting in these moments "droll" or "listless," or even a "phoned-in" performance, but they clearly weren't paying attention. The quiet intensity he gives, his nuanced portrayal, embodies what other actors and reviewers fail to grasp.

Rachel Cook's Adra is incandescent, enigmatic, everything a succubus should be. Cook gives us a creature of mesmerizing allure and primal magic, a haunting blend of innocence and danger, hope and despair, vulnerability and power. Her transformation in the movie's brutal, practical-effects-driven finale, from dream-lover to demonic power, is a feast for the eyes and captivates the viewer completely.

Director R. J. Daniel Hanna creates an atmosphere of creeping unease, using technology itself as a tool of terror. The intrusive buzzing of notifications, the pixelated glow of screens, the hushed intimacy of video chats: all become instruments in a symphony of dread and disturbance. The electronic score pulses, mirroring Chris's unraveling mental state.

What some have criticized as excessive dialogue is, in fact, another layer in the film's complex tapestry. Ron Perlman as the disgraced scientist adds another dimension to the film's exploration of loneliness and longing. His limited online interactions and detached performance make him a poignant, modern trope. The disjointed conversations emphasize social anxieties. Through masterful editing and darkly comedic moments, like Eddie receiving maternal guidance mid-flirtation (unaware his mother is on camera), the film skewers the absurdities of our digital world.

This is a film that will stay with you, a visceral experience not for the faint of heart. Is it excessive? Perhaps. But that is precisely where its power lies. Do we, seduced by the promise of connection and trapped by our screens, truly know the nature of the darkness lurking just beyond the screen, in ourselves, or those digital whispers promising a fulfillment that isn't remotely there?