As Above, So Below in Hell — A Descent into the Abyss of Mediocrity

As Above, So Below in Hell: full review

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The celluloid unspools with a sinister crackle, as if the catacombs of Paris themselves are whispering into the projector’s ear: «Welcome to a journey to hell… without ever leaving your seat.» As Above, So Below in Hell (2014) is one of those films born under the sign of betrayed promise—a thriller that reeks of cold sweat and a script scribbled during a sleepless night with a bottle of cheap whiskey and a How to Write a Horror Hit in 10 Steps manual open to the wrong page. Directed by John Erick Dowdle, a man who previously gifted us gems like Quarantine (2008)—a remake that at least had the decency to sweat fear—and The Poughkeepsie Tapes (2007)—a canned nightmare that smelled like moldy VHS—this film presents itself as an homage to underground horror classics but ends up being a reminder that sometimes, the only thing beneath the surface is… well-lit garbage.

The industrial context of this movie is as predictable as the jump scare in a poorly executed boo! moment. We’re in 2014, an era when Hollywood had discovered that horror could be a profitable business if you added a dash of «realism» and a setting claustrophobic enough to make the audience feel trapped between fear and boredom. The catacombs of Paris, that labyrinth of bones and shadows that had already inspired doomed poets and tourists craving macabre selfies, became the perfect stage for a film that promised to revive the spirit of The Descent (2005) but with fewer spiders and more clichés. The problem is, while Neil Marshall understood that terror isn’t built with monsters but with the tension of knowing something—or someone—is watching you from the darkness, Dowdle seems to believe that flicking on a flashlight and screaming «Boo!» is enough to make the audience leap from their seats. Spoiler: it doesn’t work.

The script, penned by Dowdle and his brother Drew Dowdle, is a narrative Frankenstein stitched together with scraps of Saw, The Blair Witch Project, and a lost X-Files episode someone dug up from the discount bin. The premise is as old as horror cinema itself: a group of urban explorers—a mix of archaeologists with Indiana Jones complexes and YouTubers chasing likes—venture into the Paris catacombs to uncover a mystery that, oh surprise, is better left buried. What follows is a succession of scenes oscillating between the predictable and the ridiculous, with dialogue that sounds like it was written by a Netflix algorithm designed to churn out generic content. «What was that noise?», «We shouldn’t split up», or «This isn’t what it looks like» are phrases that echo in the theater like the ghosts of cinematic déjà vu. If hell exists, it surely has a screening room where they loop all the movies that have abused these clichés.

But not all the blame lies with the Dowdles. The horror industry has turned the genre into an assembly line where the goal isn’t innovation but repeating the formula until the audience can no longer tell the difference between a movie and an extended trailer. As Above, So Below in Hell is the perfect product of this era: a film that reeks of focus groups, test screenings, and producers glancing at their watches while asking, «When does the monster show up?» And when the monster does appear, of course, it’s so generic it could’ve snuck in from any other horror film of the last twenty years. There’s no identity, no personality, just the skeleton of an idea someone forgot to flesh out… or, in this case, scare out.

Direction: The Pulse of a Filmmaker Drowning in His Own Shadow

If John Erick Dowdle’s direction in this film had to be described with a visual metaphor, it would be a man trying to light a match in the middle of a hurricane. There are flashes of talent—moments when the camera moves with almost Hitchcockian intent, shots that recall the best of David Fincher in his most claustrophobic phase—but ultimately, the wind of mediocrity snuffs it all out. Dowdle proves he knows how to create atmosphere, how to play with darkness, how to use space to generate unease. The problem is, once that atmosphere is built, he doesn’t know what to do with it. It’s like constructing the perfect haunted house… only to fill it with circus clowns.

The film begins with an opening sequence that promises much: a long take in the catacombs reminiscent of Enter the Void (2009) by Gaspar Noé, but without its visual audacity or narrative madness. The camera glides between stacked bones like a curious ghost, and for a moment, you think you’re about to witness something memorable. But then the plot kicks in, and with it, disappointment. Dowdle seems more interested in following the rules of conventional thriller filmmaking than breaking them, and that’s a cardinal sin in a genre that thrives on transgression. The jump scares are so predictable you could set your watch by them, and the tension scenes resolve with all the grace of an elephant in a china shop. There’s a moment when a character hides behind a wall of bones, and the camera creeps closer, as if about to reveal something terrifying. But all it reveals is the director’s lack of imagination.

Dowdle’s biggest mistake, however, is his inability to develop his characters beyond the most basic archetypes. We’ve got the charismatic leader with secrets, the strong but emotionally fragile woman, the funny guy who always cracks the wrong joke at the wrong time, and the guy who’s only there to die first. They’re textbook characters, so flat they might as well have been cut out of cardboard and taped to the set. And when the actors try to give them depth, the script sabotages them with dialogue that sounds like it was written by a Tourette’s-afflicted robot. «We can’t leave her here!» or «Something’s following us!» are phrases that echo into the void, as if even the characters know they make no sense.

Actors: A Cast Lost in the Labyrinth of Mediocrity

The cast of As Above, So Below in Hell is like a group of tourists lost in the catacombs: they all know they should be scared, but in the end, all they feel is confusion and a touch of secondhand embarrassment. Perdita Weeks, as Scarlett, is the only one who escapes the shipwreck with any dignity. Her performance has moments of genuine intensity, especially in scenes where her character confronts her own demons—both literal and metaphorical. Weeks manages to convey a mix of determination and vulnerability that makes you care, at least a little, about what happens to her. It’s a shame the script doesn’t give her more opportunities to shine, because when it does, she channels the great horror heroines like Sigourney Weaver in Alien (1979) or Jamie Lee Curtis in Halloween (1978). But, of course, this isn’t Alien, and Scarlett isn’t Ellen Ripley. Here, her biggest enemy isn’t the monsters in the catacombs but the cardboard dialogue she’s forced to recite.

The rest of the cast, however, is a parade of missed opportunities. Ben Feldman, as George, is the classic comic relief who only serves to remind you that hell has no room for humor. His jokes land like stones in a bottomless well, and his performance oscillates between irritating and downright unbearable. It’s as if someone took Rainn Wilson at his worst and blended him in a shaker with a How to Be Annoying in Life-or-Death Situations manual. Edwin Hodge, meanwhile, does what he can with the role of Benji, the catacombs expert who, oh surprise, turns out to be not so expert after all. His performance is competent, but the script condemns him to being little more than a plot device with legs. And then there’s François Civil, who plays Papillon, the group’s leader. Civil has charisma, but his character is so generic you could replace him with a mannequin and no one would notice.

The most frustrating thing about the cast is that there’s no chemistry. The actors seem to be in different movies, as if each received instructions from a different director. There are moments when they seem to be improvising—not in the good way, like in Cloverfield (2008), but in the «Oh God, what do we do now?» sense. The scene where the group debates whether to press on or turn back is a perfect example: it feels more like a high school theater rehearsal than a conversation between people trapped in a subterranean hell. If the goal was to convey desperation, all they convey is indifference.

Technical Aspects: When Cinematography Saves What the Script Damns

If there’s anything that saves As Above, So Below in Hell from being a total disaster, it’s its cinematography. Léo Hinstin, the director of photography, turns the Paris catacombs into a character in their own right—a labyrinth of shadows and bones that breathes and watches. The underground scenes are lit with a palette of cold grays and blues that recall Roger Deakins’ work in Skyfall (2012), but with a grittier, more organic touch. There are shots that are pure horror postcards: the light from flashlights slicing through the darkness like knives, bones stacked in patterns that seem to whisper secrets, water reflections on the walls creating an almost dreamlike effect. Hinstin proves he knows how to use light to build tension, how to play with shadows to hide—or reveal—what the script doesn’t dare to show.

But even cinematography has its limits. There are moments when the film errs on the side of over-illuminating scenes, as if afraid the audience won’t understand what’s happening. It’s a shame, because when Hinstin leans into the darkness, the film reaches heights of genuine macabre beauty. The sequence where the characters discover a chamber filled with skeletons arranged in a circle is a perfect example: the camera moves slowly, as if exploring a sacred place, and the lighting is so precise that each bone seems to have a life of its own. It’s a pity that, just as the film seems ready to take off, the script drags it back to earth with a cheap jump scare or a ridiculous line of dialogue.

The production design, by Stanislas Reydellet, is another of the film’s strong points. The catacombs are recreated with obsessive attention to detail: the bones, the inscriptions on the walls, the tunnels that seem to stretch into infinity… Everything is designed to make you feel like you’re down there, breathing the stale air and feeling the weight of history on your shoulders. But once again, the script doesn’t know what to do with all this potential. The catacombs end up being little more than a pretty backdrop for a story that’s not up to par.

The music, composed by Nathan Whitehead, is another element that could have saved the film if used more intelligently. There are moments when the score manages to create an atmosphere of genuine terror, with choirs that sound like they’re singing from the bottom of a well. But, like the cinematography, the problem is that the music is used too obviously, like a leitmotif announcing every jump scare with all the subtlety of a jackhammer. Instead of integrating into the narrative, it ends up being just another piece of generic sound design that feels like it was lifted from a 90s horror sound library.

The editing, by Elliot Greenberg, is functional but little else. There are moments when the film seems to speed up for no reason, as if the editor decided it was better to rush through the boring scenes instead of trying to give them rhythm. And then there are the flashbacks, which are as unnecessary as an umbrella in hell. They add nothing to the plot and only serve to remind you that, deep down, this film has nothing new to say.

The best

• Léo Hinstin’s cinematography: A visual masterpiece that turns the catacombs into a character in their own right, with lighting that oscillates between the poetic and the terrifying. Some shots look like they were lifted from a Francis Bacon painting, but with less hope.
• Stanislas Reydellet’s production design: The catacombs are recreated with obsessive detail, to the point where you can almost smell the mold and damp. It’s the only element that manages to convey the feeling of being trapped in a place that’s not of this world.

• The premise: The Paris catacombs are a perfect setting for a horror film, and the idea of exploring their mysteries is intriguing. Too bad the script isn’t up to the task.
• A few tense moments: There are a couple of scenes—like the one with the circle of skeletons—that manage to create an atmosphere of genuine terror, even if it’s only for a few seconds.

The worst

The script: An epic disaster, stuffed with clichés, ridiculous dialogue, and characters that feel like they were lifted from a Supernatural* fanfic. It’s as if the Dowdle brothers wrote the story on a napkin during a subway ride.
Predictable jump scares: If you can guess when the next scare is coming, the film isn’t doing its job. Here, the jump scares* are so obvious you could set an alarm for them.
Ben Feldman: His portrayal of George is so irritating you’ll want to join the catacomb monsters just to shut him up. He’s the most unnecessary comic relief* since Jar Jar Binks.
Lack of originality: The film brings nothing new to the genre. It’s like watching The Descent* (2005) but with fewer spiders, less tension, and more self-help manual dialogue.
Flat characters: Every character is a shallow archetype, so generic you could replace them with Lego* figures and no one would notice. Even Scarlett, the only one with potential, can’t escape the stereotype.
Uneven pacing: The film swings between well-built tension and scenes that feel like they were lifted from a Scooby-Doo* episode. The editing doesn’t help bring any coherence to this mess.

• The ending: No spoilers, but let’s just say it’s so anticlimactic you’ll want to go back into the catacombs just to find something worth your time.

The Verdict of Claqueta Ácida

As Above, So Below in Hell is a film that deserved to be buried in the same catacombs it depicts. A thriller that promises terror, suspense, and an unforgettable experience but ends up being little more than a guided tour of the genre’s clichés, with a script that sounds like a mad libs written by a Netflix algorithm and a cast that seems to be improvising rather than acting. The cinematography and production design save the furniture, but not even the talent of Léo Hinstin or Stanislas Reydellet can redeem a story that reeks of focus groups and missed opportunities.

If you’re looking for a horror film that will make you jump out of your seat, there are better options—like The Descent or As Above, So Below (2014), which, ironically, also takes place in the Paris catacombs and actually knows what it’s doing. If you want to see a talented director waste an interesting premise, then this is your movie. But if you’re after a cinematic experience that will leave you with goosebumps and the feeling of having seen something unique, then As Above, So Below in Hell is like a treasure map that only leads to a pile of old bones. It’s not hell, but it’s damn close. 💀

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