The Haunting Power of 'Undertone': Why A24’s Horror Gem Transcends the Screen
There’s something profoundly unsettling about a horror film that relies less on jump scares and more on the eerie silence between sounds. A24’s Undertone, now streaming on HBO Max, is a masterclass in this art. Personally, I think what makes this film so remarkable isn’t just its technical prowess—though the sound design is nothing short of genius—but the way it taps into a universal human fear: the dread of the unknown, lurking just out of sight.
When Undertone premiered earlier this year, it was hailed as a theater-must-see, and for good reason. The immersive sound design, which feels like it’s whispering directly into your ear, is undeniably enhanced by a surround-sound system. But here’s the kicker: even on your couch, with nothing but your TV speakers, the film retains its chilling grip. This, to me, is a testament to its craftsmanship. Director Ian Tuason doesn’t rely on cheap tricks; he builds tension through restraint, leaving your imagination to fill in the blanks.
A Personal Story Wrapped in Horror
What many people don’t realize is that Undertone is deeply personal for Tuason. Inspired by his own experience caring for his terminally ill parents, the film is as much a meditation on grief and guilt as it is a supernatural thriller. The protagonist, Evy (played by Nina Kiri), is a lapsed Catholic grappling with her mother’s impending death. Her guilt, compounded by her strained relationship with her devoutly religious mother, adds a layer of emotional depth that’s rare in the horror genre.
From my perspective, this emotional core is what elevates Undertone above your average scare-fest. It’s not just about the ghosts; it’s about the ghosts we carry within ourselves. The religious symbolism scattered throughout the film—crucifixes, rosaries, and whispered prayers—isn’t just set dressing. It’s a reflection of Evy’s internal struggle, a battle between faith and doubt, love and resentment.
The Power of Negative Space
One thing that immediately stands out is Tuason’s use of negative space. The film is set almost entirely in Evy’s childhood home, a claustrophobic space filled with shadows and corners that seem to hide more than they reveal. The camera often lingers on these empty spaces, inviting you to wonder: Is something there?
What this really suggests is that the scariest things are often the ones we can’t see. Tuason and cinematographer Graham Beasley understand this instinctively. They don’t show you the monster; they show you the door it might be hiding behind. It’s a technique that feels almost old-school, harking back to the days of The Exorcist and The Shining, where the fear was in the suggestion, not the reveal.
The Podcast Within the Film
A detail that I find especially interesting is the film’s meta-narrative structure. Evy is a podcaster who, alongside her co-host Justin (Adam DiMarco), investigates supernatural phenomena. The heart of the film lies in the audio files they receive—recordings of a supposed haunting. These files are the film’s most terrifying moments, not because of what they show, but because of what they imply.
If you take a step back and think about it, this is a brilliant commentary on our modern obsession with true crime and paranormal podcasts. We’re drawn to these stories not just for the scares, but for the sense of connection they offer. Evy’s podcast becomes a mirror for her own life, a way to confront the ghosts she’s been running from.
Why Undertone Matters
In my opinion, Undertone is more than just a horror movie; it’s a cultural artifact. It speaks to our collective fear of mortality, our need for answers in the face of the unknown, and our tendency to project our own demons onto the world around us. What makes this particularly fascinating is how it balances its supernatural elements with a deeply human story.
This raises a deeper question: Why are we so drawn to horror in the first place? Is it simply for the adrenaline rush, or is it something more? I think Undertone suggests the latter. It’s a film that lingers long after the credits roll, not because of its scares, but because of the questions it leaves you with.
The Future of Horror
As someone who’s been following the genre for years, I can’t help but wonder what Undertone’s success means for the future of horror. Will we see more films that prioritize emotional depth over cheap thrills? Will sound design become the new frontier for filmmakers looking to innovate?
One thing’s for sure: Undertone has set a new standard. It’s a reminder that horror, at its best, isn’t just about scaring you—it’s about making you think, feel, and question. So, if you haven’t already, stream it on HBO Max. Just make sure you’re not alone.
Final Thoughts
Personally, I think Undertone is a film that will be studied for years to come. It’s a perfect blend of technical brilliance and emotional resonance, a rare gem in a genre often dominated by formulaic jumpscares. What this really suggests is that horror, when done right, can be as profound as any drama or thriller.
So, the next time someone tells you horror is just mindless entertainment, point them to Undertone. It’s a film that proves the genre can be so much more—if you’re willing to listen.
