If I did single-word reviews, this one would earn a resounding wow. Based on a series of creepypasta web shorts, Backrooms (2026) is a startling, trippy mix of psychological horror and pitch-black humor that also delivers more than its fair share of stunning artistry and uncommon beauty.
Clark (a brilliant Chiwetel Ejiofor) is the frustrated owner of Cap’n Clark’s Ottoman Empire, a sad stripmall furniture store. Drowning his sorrows in alcohol, Clark is reeling from a collapsed marriage and shattered career dreams. His one attempt at self improvement is therapy, which is provided by Dr. Mary Kline (Renate Reinsve), who sells books via local-access infomercial and has her own troubled past. Clark’s struggles to move forward are disrupted by an odd discovery in the store’s basement: a portal which leads into an eerie, extradimensional space. It appears to be an abandoned extension of the store, but the more he explores, the more unnatural it becomes: a soulless, retail interior built like a maze and extending infinitely, like a nonsensical museum full of Escherian optical illusions and unsettling still-life sculptures. Clark’s excursions into this impossible space lead him to try to collect evidence of it with his assistant manager Kat (Lukita Maxwell) and her boyfriend Bobby (Finn Bennett), to prove to Dr. Kline that he isn’t mad. But his Quixotic search grows increasingly dangerous, and eventually draws Dr. Kline — and all her traumatic baggage — into an eerie, inexplicable trap.
Backrooms had me at “mysterious portal to a weird, impossible space,” but it never looks back. Its spare, haunted period 1990s aesthetic immediately sets a surreal tone. It’s got Reinsve, increasingly one of my favorite actors, whose sterling track record of role selection suggests a discerning eye. Then there’s Ejiofor, whose commanding presence centers the psychodrama brilliantly; indeed, he’s so exceptional he manages to upstage Reinsve (which I didn’t think was possible). But the real star is the sheer filmic craft of it all. Less a jump-scare slasher than a subtle Lynchian nightmare, the film oozes surreality, but without obscuring it with murky photography or shadowy obfuscation. In a cinematic era where poor lighting in rampant, Backrooms is a rarity, especially for horror: it’s full-on bright, making its creepy visuals all the more unnerving in that you can see them clearly. Each shot is a work of art, often Gilliamesque in its googly-eyed clarity. Add to all that mindfully constructed, layered supernatural and psychological mysteries that make you question the sanity of virtually every character, and a powerful, indelible final moment? The result is an unforgettable, mindfuck masterpiece.
