When recording audio, ‘room tone’ is the captured silence at the beginning of the track that sets the datum of noise against which the rest of the sound can be measured. It’s supposed to be a nice and quiet reference point. If this concept were instead used for the psychological thriller ‘Backrooms’ to characterize its opening thematic and environmental mood, the room tone would be a blood-curdling, blaring scream. It was incredible how everything that followed was experienced within the context of that heightened anticipation, tension, and heart rate so that even the more quiet, empty shots existed in a thick cloud of suspense.

Having watched the trailer, I kind of knew what to expect, but then I found myself full-body-clenching at the start and not exhaling until the very end. Seriously, in the opening scene alone, my middle fingers were pushed halfway against my ears, my eyes were near clenched shut, and I was pushing my way back into the reclined leather seat. Suddenly, I was 9 years old again. The giddy dance of anticipation was fed and affected by nearly every element of the film.

To start, the use of set design, camera movement, and score was masterful. Those three elements alone provided an absolutely uninterrupted and relentless distortion of the senses. The disorienting, bizarre effect seemed so simple but was just uncomfortable enough to keep me from settling back down. The oddly constructed rooms were slowly introduced, but continued to devolve more and more. As doors opened on floors and ceilings and crooked, MC Escher-style stairs ran into nothing, the logical part of my brain seemed to protest against the visual conundrum.

More confusing yet was how each and every painfully slow point-of-view camera pan down an irregular yellow hallway found me holding my breath and waiting for a classic black silhouette of some poorly lit ghoulie to appear. And even though that never really came, I was certain it was going to time and again. The nonstop, unnerving anticipation dominated from start to finish.

But the most impactful of these mood-setting elements by far was the haunting score. Alien, distorted horns and strings that had a certain not-quite-human-voice element maintained the unending tension even as the big twists were over. The big monster reveal, for example, didn’t even feel like a release because the music and environment continued their overwhelming march.

All of this was only enhanced by the incredible performances. Chiwetel Ejiofor did a spectacular job selling a character that was so different from his usual roles. I’m very used to seeing him as someone in power, like his strong, dominating villains in Dr. Strange and Four Brothers. But here, he is so effectively an emasculated, washed-up divorcee who is so ready and desperate for what he finds in the basement of his failing furniture store. And what’s more, his excellent delivery makes the fact that the entire enigmatic labyrinth is based on Clark’s toxic psyche that much more believable. His failed attempt at a career in architecture, disinterest in compromising his self-centeredness, and the lack of people in his life are all dimensions encountered in the topsy-turvy alternate reality.

Renate Reinsve’s character, Mary, on the other hand, is strong where Clark is weak. She’s overcome real trauma and built an entire early 90’s self-help-on-tape empire off her memories of struggling to escape her agoraphobic mother and her love-hate relationship with her prison of a childhood home after it was bulldozed. She has real issues compared to Clark’s mostly self-induced alcoholism, and yet is able to navigate the depths of the backrooms and come out on the other side.

Now, the real fun in watching Backrooms – if you’re not into the whole near-chemical-induced-stress-test thing – is standing around afterwards trying to interpret the very strong symbolism throughout. Why do the memories distort over time? Did Mary have an advantage in surviving because of her own “loops” thesis? Is that scary echo-faced lady supposed to be Clark’s ex-wife? Is that “other” Clark’s face made out of papier-mache?

If you’re into bazaar and cerebral spectacles treated with the thickest layer of shocking psychological thriller frosting spread on top, then go see Backrooms. And see it while it’s still in theatres. I just don’t think it would have the same impact at home. Plus, you don’t want it to, like, seep into the fabric of your house’s spacetime and start slowly corrupting your subconscious while you sleep.

Matt Hebert is an engineer and self-published author. His dopamine-fueled creative pursuits have spanned from chicken keeping, sand sculpture, acting, and public speaking, but writing is nearest and dearest to his heart. He lives in Bellevue with his wife and two daughters. You can find him on Instagram at @jerkofalltradeshebert or email him at matt.hebert.books@gmail.com

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