To think that a photo of a renovated hobby shop in Oshkosh, Wisconsin, would circulate online for years before eventually being anonymously posted to 4chan’s paranormal-themed board in 2019, spawning the popular creepypasta about a never-ending extradimensional complex known as “The Backrooms.” If that weren’t enough, a then-16-year-old Kane Parsons further popularized the lore with a viral horror short film titled The Backrooms (Found Footage). He subsequently expanded the concept into a popular analog horror web series, inspiring countless other creators to develop their own interpretations of the mythos. Funny how history plays out. Now, here we are: a now-21-year-old Parsons has gone from directing YouTube horror videos animated in Blender to directing the A24-distributed science fiction psychological horror film Backrooms. Not only that, it’s surprisingly good.
In 1990, in the Santa Clara Valley, California, Clark is a failed architect-turned furniture store owner who runs Cap’n Clark’s Ottoman Empire, where he also serves as the store’s mascot, Cap’n Clark. He’s depressed, struggling with alcoholism, and coping with his recent divorce, even living in his own store where he’s struggling to make ends meet. He confides in his therapist, Dr. Mary Kline, who is highly regarded in her field, but quietly burdened by the weight of unresolved trauma from her own upbringing. One day, during a power outage at his showroom, Clark stumbles upon a strange doorway in the basement that leads him into a surreal dimension beyond reality, an endless complex made up of seemingly empty rooms. Worried about his well-being when he fails to turn up for his sessions, Mary sets out to find him.
Moving beyond the humorous origins of this lore, Backrooms excels as liminal-space horror that thrives on psychological dread, with the titular setting serving as much a character as our two leads. The cosmic complex, a semi-conscious ecosystem of seemingly endless corridors, has an eerily familiar quality, resembling an abandoned corporate space with ugly mono-yellow wallpaper and constantly humming fluorescent lights. And yet, there’s something about this environment that feels inherently wrong. The deeper one goes, the more convoluted and unsettling this maze becomes, coupled with everyday real-world objects that, alongside the architecture, grow increasingly glitchy and distorted, some literally fusing with the setting.
The atmosphere and mood are appropriately nightmarish and deeply unsettling. Given the film’s slow pace, it uses ambiance to build tension and deliver effective scares, complemented by some incredibly creepy and uncanny imagery. Like the characters, we find ourselves compelled to explore the Backrooms, drawn by the sheer disbelief that something like this could exist and by the surreal nature of what lies within them. Sometimes, what happens onscreen is so bizarre and absurd it even provokes awkward laughs from the audience.
Another major element of terror in Backrooms is the feeling of being watched and stalked by an unseen threat until it’s too late, a fear brilliantly encapsulated in the film’s terrifying opening found-footage sequence. Given the isolated setting, aimlessly wandering through a largely vacant environment creates a growing sense of unease, as if being monitored by an undetected observer. This takes the form of the mysterious corporation Async Research Institute and the unsettling truth that our characters are indeed not alone in the Backrooms, and that they eventually encounter grotesque entities known as Still Life that, though vaguely human in appearance, behave in profoundly inhuman ways, one of them being inherently aggressive to anyone who enters the labyrinth.
A core theme of Backrooms is memory and how it can become distorted over time, serving as a driving force for the film’s psychological horror. As we come to know our two leads, we delve into their psyches to explore what made them who they are today. Through memories of trauma, regret, and loss, the story explores how unresolved pain can trigger depression and lead one to feel trapped and isolated from reality.
For Clark, his pain stems from his sadness and anger over his past mistakes that led to the collapse of his marriage and career ambitions going nowhere, choosing to drown his sorrows in alcoholism while clinging to excuses. Not helping matters is his largely unsuccessful furniture store, where he is so desperate that he resorts to playing a cheesy pirate mascot in a futile attempt to attract customers through commercials. Mary, meanwhile, copes with unresolved grief from her troubled upbringing under her mentally ill mother, choosing to become a therapist to help others heal and, in turn, try to heal herself. These memories are what the Backrooms thrive on, and once the characters enter it, their distorted reflections become a dangerous labyrinth they must navigate. The glitchy, imperfect reflections of these memories are also disturbingly relevant in the current age of generative artificial intelligence, where reality is imitated by AI, yet devoid of the emotional authenticity of the originals. The metaphor about describing a dog to someone and then asking them to draw it greatly encapsulates the film’s central themes.
Clark is a complex character because, despite his flaws, there is a tragic and relatable quality to his sorrow. Even his low-budget commercials, where he’s dressed as Captain Clark and adopts a phony pirate accent, though humorous, also carry an inherent sadness, as one can sense the underlying desperation. Yet, though he is a man frequently dealt the short end of the stick, it becomes clear that he is also self-destructive and far from blameless for his misfortunes. The moments where his pent-up rage comes out are especially revealing as he refuses to own up to or take accountability for his mistakes, including the implications regarding his troubling relationship with his ex-wife, Barbara. Chiwetel Ejiofor delivers a remarkable performance as Clark, balancing a profound sadness with a revealed angry side.
As for Mary, her genuine compassion and willingness to go out of her way as a therapist to help others immediately makes her an admirable character. She is also tragic in her own way, earning the audience’s sympathy as she struggles with the profound pain of trying to move on from her traumatic upbringing under her mother, who suffered from mental illness. Though her selfless empathy for others, such as Clark, is rewarding, her trauma is an itch she just can’t seem to scratch, making her feel trapped in her own mind. At the same time, the fact that she has her limits when pushed too far helps ground her to the madness unfolding around her, including Clark’s deteriorating sanity. Renate Reinsve’s performance is appropriately grounded and understated, while also nailing the inner pain she carries and the overwhelming confusion and terror she experiences upon entering the titular otherworldly complex.
Easily the other standout character in the film is the primary antagonist, Pirate Clark, a towering, aggressive Still Life copy of Clark who is a masterclass in uncanny-valley horror through both its design and on-screen execution. At first, there is an initial comedic element in the film’s central monster being revealed as a grotesquely distorted version of the “Cap’n Clark” pirate mascot. However, amusement turns to dread and horror the more we watch it. The way it moves and behaves is unnerving, and its towering presence, unsettling face, and disturbing vocalizations make it a terrifying creature. It’s scary yet oddly sad at the same time, functioning as a twisted manifestation of Clark himself, embodying his rage, grief, and self-loathing. Props must be given not only to the exceptional blend of practical effects and CGI, but also to Robert Bobroczkyi’s chilling physical performance that made the monster believable.
On the subject of the production values, Backrooms is both a visual and auditory marvel. The sets are massive and a sight to behold, and the mixture of practical effects and CGI only add to the appeal. Complementing this is the excellent cinematography by Jeremy Cox, which captures the unsettling nature of this endless complex while heightening the psychological dread experienced by the characters. Additionally, the seamless blending of first-person found footage sequences with third-person cinematic presentation make it all the more visuallly distinct and all the more terrifying. Adding to the atmosphere is the score by Edo Van Breemen and Kane Parsons, which further reinforces the film’s immense sense of unease.
The origins of how this lore was conceived are undeniably humorous, yet what Kane Parsons delivers with Backrooms is something not only admirable given this is his first feature film, but also genuinely immersive and scary. It takes an outlandish concept and plays around with it in a way that’s entertaining yet also surprisingly thoughtful.
