Backrooms — A Descent into the Void

I sank into my seat at the Cine Doré with the kind of anticipation usually reserved for those who know they’re about to witness something different—something that reeks of found footage but promises to transcend the subgenre like a ghost refusing exorcism. Backrooms isn’t just a film; it’s a sensory ordeal that drags you into a labyrinth of jaundiced hallways, sticky carpets, and the relentless hum of dying fluorescents. Kane Parsons, a name hitherto echoing only in YouTube’s viral underbelly, has pulled off the impossible: turning an internet meme into a cinematic nightmare with blockbuster budgets and the soul of a cult classic. But is fear enough to sustain 110 minutes of runtime? The answer, much like the corridors of the Backrooms, is far more complicated than it seems.

The film kicks off with a single-take sequence already destined for the annals of modern horror: a handheld camera follows a group of furniture store employees who, after a power outage, stumble upon a door in the basement that shouldn’t exist. It opens into an endless hallway, bathed in that sickly yellow light we all recognize instantly. Parsons doesn’t reinvent the wheel—he sharpens it into a blade. The found footage here isn’t a cheap gimmick to skimp on effects; it’s a narrative choice that amplifies claustrophobia and paranoia. Every camera shake, every ragged breath, every stifled whisper in the dark reminds you this could be real. And that, my friends, is terror in its purest form.

But Parsons isn’t content with mere scares. There’s a visual ambition in Backrooms that transcends jump scares. The film treats architecture like a character: hallways twist, doors vanish and reappear, and low ceilings press down with physical weight. In one standout scene, the protagonist—played by a Chiwetel Ejiofor who looks plucked from a Lovecraftian fever dream—crawls through a ventilation shaft while a bird’s-eye shot reduces him to a tiny, vulnerable figure. This is the kind of image that haunts you for days.

Will Soodik’s script is another triumph. It’s not packed with quotable dialogue or grand monologues, but it’s brimming with details that build a coherent, terrifying world. The characters aren’t mere horror archetypes; they have motivations, fears, and chemistry that make their interactions feel real. There’s a moment where Ejiofor and Madison Hu (as a teen trapped in the Backrooms) debate whether to keep moving or stay put. The tension doesn’t come from what they say—it’s what they don’t: the fear of the unknown, mutual distrust, the creeping dread that any choice might be the wrong one. This is horror with a brain, not a cheap thrill factory.

Direction and staging: the art of getting lost (and making sure you stay that way)

Kane Parsons knows exactly what he’s doing, even when he seems not to. The film blends found footage with traditional sequences—a risky move that could’ve collapsed in lesser hands. But Parsons orchestrates the chaos with surgical precision. The long takes, like the basement opener, are masterclasses in tension-building without a single cut. The camera moves as if it’s alive, as if it too is trapped in the Backrooms, creating an immersion few horror films achieve.

Sound design is another highlight. Daniel Pemberton’s score (yes, that Daniel Pemberton of Spider-Verse and U.N.C.L.E. fame) is a mix of industrial drones, electronic hums, and distorted choirs, like transmissions from the bottom of a well. But the real terror isn’t the music—it’s the silence. Entire scenes unfold with nothing but the characters’ breathing, the creak of carpet underfoot, or the click of a switch that does nothing. Parsons understands terror doesn’t need noise to be effective—sometimes, the echo of your own breath is enough.

Ruth De Jong’s production design (Nope, Twin Peaks: The Return) is another win. The Backrooms’ hallways aren’t mere sets; they’re living, breathing spaces that shift and feel alive. Walls are caked in grime that looks real, fluorescents flicker with unsettling irregularity, and abandoned objects (a teddy bear, a typewriter, a dead phone) tell stories without words. This is the kind of design that makes you believe if you stare at a wall long enough, something might crawl out.

Performances: when fear is real (and so are the actors)

Chiwetel Ejiofor is the undeniable heart of Backrooms. His character—a man who wakes up in the Backrooms with no memory of how he got there—blends vulnerability and determination in a way that recalls Jeff Goldblum’s best work. Ejiofor doesn’t act fear; he embodies it. There’s a moment where his character, realizing he’s trapped, collapses against a wall and breaks down. It’s not melodramatic weeping—it’s a raw, choked sob, like the actor is exorcising a personal trauma. This is the kind of performance that leaves you breathless.

Madison Hu brings a much-needed freshness to the film. Her character, a teen who’s been lost in the Backrooms for years, is the perfect counterbalance to Ejiofor’s despair. Hu conveys a mix of resignation and hope that’s genuinely moving. In a pivotal scene, she tells Ejiofor: «Time doesn’t exist here, but fear does. And fear is the only thing keeping you alive.» It’s a line that defines the entire film.

The rest of the cast delivers, though none reach Ejiofor and Hu’s heights. James Ransone (Sinister, The Wire) stands out as a cryptic figure who seems to know more than he lets on. Ransone’s magnetic presence makes it impossible to look away, even when he’s doing nothing. This is the kind of actor who turns a supporting role into something unforgettable.

Technical breakdown: when terror becomes art

Jeremy Cox’s cinematography is nothing short of breathtaking. Cox, who’s proven his chops in The Ritual and A Quiet Place Part II, ensures every frame of Backrooms is a visual nightmare. His lighting is particularly masterful: the yellow fluorescents don’t just illuminate the hallways—they warp them, stretching shadows into grotesque shapes that seem to move on their own. Cox turns the mundane into the sinister with a mere camera angle.

Andrew Weisblum’s editing (The French Dispatch, Black Swan) is another strength. Weisblum knows precisely when to cut and when to let a scene linger until it’s unbearable. There’s a moment where the camera follows Ejiofor down a hallway for what feels like minutes. Nothing happens. No jump scares. No music. Just the sound of footsteps and the hum of fluorescents. And yet, it’s one of the most terrifying sequences in the film.

Daniel Pemberton’s score deserves its own paragraph. He doesn’t compose a traditional soundtrack but a collection of sounds that burrow into your brain like needles. There are moments when the music seems to vanish, leaving only a constant hum—the pulse of the Backrooms themselves. It’s the kind of score you don’t notice until it’s too late.

The best

• Jeremy Cox’s cinematography: Cox turns the Backrooms’ hallways into a character. His lighting and framing are masterful, and every shot feels like it’s ripped from a nightmare. This is the kind of cinematography that makes you want to rewatch the film just to study the shots.
• Production design: The Backrooms aren’t just sets—they’re living, shifting spaces that feel alive. This is the kind of design that makes you believe if you stare long enough, something might crawl out of the walls.

The worst

• Pacing in the second act: While the film starts with explosive energy, the second act loses some steam. It’s not boring, but it does sag. It’s like Parsons knows the destination but isn’t entirely sure how to get there.
• Lack of answers: Backrooms raises plenty of questions but doesn’t always provide answers. For some, this will be frustrating. It’s the kind of film that leaves you with more doubts than certainties—and not everyone’s willing to accept that.
• Underdeveloped side characters: While the leads shine, some side characters feel like afterthoughts. They’re not bad, but they’re clearly there to fill space. With a little more development, they could’ve been memorable.

The Verdict of Claqueta Ácida

• "El terror está en la oscuridad #Backrooms"
• "Un viaje al vacío #Backrooms"
• "La puerta al abismo #Backrooms"

• "The terror isn’t in the dark. It’s in the walls. #Backrooms"
• "A journey into the void—bring a flashlight (it won’t help). #Backrooms"

• "The door to the abyss is open. Step right in. #Backrooms"

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