Pete Wright
You know that moment. You’ve been at a party or a dinner or someone’s house, whatever, and then something shifts. Nothing you can really name. The conversation maybe takes a turn. Maybe a joke lands wrong. A silence kind of covers the room. Someone’s smile lands a beat too long and you think, I should go. This is so weird. But you don’t, because leaving would be rude. Because you’re not sure you’re reading it right. Or because the cost of being wrong about whatever danger sits before you feels much higher than the cost of staying.
Tonight, we’re talking about three films that understand that calculus. The terrible math we do when the door is still open, but our feet won’t move. The Invitation, The Night House, and Caveat. Three stories about people who stayed too long and what was waiting for them when they finally tried to leave.
We’re calling this one “Overstayed,” or, as Tommy gave the title: “I Said Get Out,” in a text with me once.
This is not just about characters who stick around haunted houses or creepy dinners. It’s about the why. It’s about what keeps someone rooted when every signal says run. Is it grief? Is it guilt? Is it obligation? Is it poverty? These films are all about the trap that closes slowly, and the moment you realize you’ve already agreed to it.
I’ve got Kynan Dias and Chelsea Stardust and Tommy Metz III. Hello, team, and welcome everybody to Sitting in the Dark.
Tommy Metz III
Hello.
Kynan Dias
Hello, thanks for having us.
Chelsea Stardust
Hello.
Pete Wright
Oh, well thanks for coming to my party, everybody.
Tommy Metz III
Yeah, what an invitation.
Chelsea Stardust
Yeah.
Pete Wright
First, I just want to start with an orientation. As you might remember, fair listeners, I didn’t know what the hell I was doing when we recorded last time. I completely broke the model of telling you what movies we were going to talk about when we recorded our last episode, “All Smiles,” and so I had to tell you guys what we were doing over text.
Did it make sense to you what I was going for here? How does this concept sit with you from the perspective of horror? Kynan?
Kynan Dias
Totally makes sense, and you’re kind of on a roll.
Pete Wright
Makes sense. Then you’re kind of on a roll. There’s the home invasion thing, the “hey, don’t go in there” thing, and now “don’t stay there.”
Kynan Dias
There’s the home invasion thing, the “hey, don’t go in there” thing, and now, “don’t stay there.” So I don’t know where you want us to be, Pete.
Pete Wright
Jesus. I had no idea I was that transparent.
Kynan Dias
You’re not comfortable staying there.
Tommy Metz III
Yeah.
Pete Wright
I clearly live right in the now, but this is what I’m scared of.
Kynan Dias
Right.
Tommy Metz III
This is less of a podcast and more of a cry for help.
Pete Wright
Yeah, it’s exactly what it is. It’s an intervention.
Tommy Metz III
Yeah.
Pete Wright
Chelsea, the thing that I remember—and I think the challenge that we have here—is that when you saw the list of movies come through, you said, “Oh great, I hate The Invitation so much, but I can’t wait to talk about these movies.” Tell me about your orientation to this whole concept.
Chelsea Stardust
Well, I will say: the minute you sent them, I was like, perfect. This is chef’s kiss, perfect pairing. Yet again, another perfect pairing. Y’all are so good at this.
But I will say: I had seen all but one of these. I rewatched all of them—rewatched and watched for the first time. I dare say I feel differently about The Invitation now.
Pete Wright
Hallelujah.
Chelsea Stardust
I’m excited to dig into it.
Pete Wright
Amen. No, I’m not kidding you. We’ve been backchanneling about why—what the possible reasons are that Chelsea could hate The Invitation—and there’s like a parlay bet going on on the backside of this conversation. So I’m relieved to hear there might be a shift.
Chelsea Stardust
I try to revisit stuff that I didn’t like.
Pete Wright
All right, Tom—
Chelsea Stardust
I try to revisit and sometimes I change my mind. Sometimes I don’t. Most of the time I don’t.
Pete Wright
Totally.
Chelsea Stardust
But this one changed my mind. I’m excited to talk more.
Pete Wright
I’m very stubborn.
Chelsea Stardust
Tell me. Go ahead.
Pete Wright
All right, Tom.
Tommy Metz III
No, this made absolute sense to me, and it’s at the basis of so many horror movies: the suspension of disbelief. The idea of: would you stay if you were in this situation? If you put yourself in a situation, at what length?
And there’s been a really interesting—we’ve been getting more into movies. Like with the remake, I was thinking about Speak No Evil.
Pete Wright
Yeah.
Tommy Metz III
Speak No Evil.
Pete Wright
Speak No Equal.
Chelsea Stardust
Oh yes.
Tommy Metz III
Speak No Evil.
Pete Wright
Speaking of people: the whole population of “spike identity.”
Tommy Metz III
I don’t know where to put that.
Chelsea Stardust
Hated that movie.
Tommy Metz III
But the idea of niceties and social niceties, you know? The social contract, and how pushing that can go too far. So I thought this was a very exciting idea.
Pete Wright
Excellent.
I’ll tell you the things I was watching for, right? Because I think they all handle these constraints differently. The first is social versus solitary, because there’s a spectrum with these movies. The Invitation traps through other people. The Night House and Caveat are very much isolationist experiences.
What is the nature of the trap? Is it psychological manipulation versus supernatural pull versus contractual—like, I guess you can call Caveat contractual binding.
And then: what does our protagonist want in these movies? Do they want validation or answers or money? And how does wanting these things make us vulnerable?
And finally, because the conceit is all about overstaying: the films calibrate differently around when the protagonist’s awareness catches up to audience awareness. At what point do we, the audience, know things are bad—you should leave? With Caveat, it’s like from the jump. But the other movies, it’s like: when do you know, and when do they know that they should shift gears? And how does that tension play for making us feel anxious, scared? When does it deliver on the promise of being a horror film?
Now we’re talking about The Invitation. Karyn Kusama’s 2015 film. Logan Marshall-Green plays Will, a man attending a dinner party at his ex-wife’s house—a house where something terrible happened to them both. She’s remarried, she’s found a new spiritual community, and she wants to reconnect with old friends. What could possibly go wrong?
Shall we begin? First: history with this one. Had everybody seen it? Chelsea obviously had and has a strongly worded blog about it, I bet.
Kynan Dias
New to me. I’ve faced a lot of people warning me that it’s less than meets the eye, so it kind of poisoned the well for me.
Pete Wright
Okay. Poisoned the well.
Kynan Dias
But yeah.
Pete Wright
Too bad. All right. Tom, you’d seen it.
Tommy Metz III
I’m on the other side. I own it.
Pete Wright
You own it!
Tommy Metz III
I enjoy it so much that I actually own it, yeah.
Pete Wright
Oh, I’m riveted by this.
Let the conflict ensue. Axes to grind. Let us clear the air on criticisms of this movie so that we can get on with appreciating what it’s doing. Where do you stand? Who wants to go first? I think maybe Chelsea should go first.
Kynan Dias
Yeah, I’m really excited to hear what Chelsea has to say.
Chelsea Stardust
Okay. All right.
I’ve actually been on a big Karyn Kusama kick. She’s a filmmaker that inspires me so, so much. Has since the beginning. I actually saw her—she screened Jennifer’s Body at Killer Fitness, or they screened Jennifer’s Body at Killer Fitness and she came and did a Q&A, and I just learned so much. I watched the commentary for that movie before I made my first movie.
I love Girl Fight. Incredible. Destroyer also incredible. Her work is amazing.
When I saw this movie, I wanted to throw a chair. When I saw The Invitation… I will say: it’s not so much the movie’s fault. My partner and I have a lot of “ooh, this is a tough genre for us,” in terms of “why don’t you just leave?” Like, I cannot stand either Speak No Evil movies—there’s two—and I’m like, what? This is just… it’s really challenging me. It’s a movie, calm down. It’s a movie. It’s not real. Like, calm down.
So same reason as many people have, I’m sure, with Logan Marshall-Green as Will—his character: bro, it’s a cult. The minute you walk in: it is a cult. And then they watch the video: it’s a cult. No, we’re gonna stick around. Nope: cult, weird stuff. No, let’s stay. Oh, my partner wants to leave? No, I’m gonna stay. Oh, no, I want to leave? Oh, my partner wants to stay. I’m just like… it drove me insane. Drove me insane.
But I will say now: I had not watched the movie since the first time I saw it in the theater. In 2015, I had not made movies. I had just finished working at Blumhouse. I was still assisting. And I watched it this time and—despite my issues with the subgenre—I’m putting that aside because this movie is expertly directed. It is so beautifully executed, and the acting is incredible.
And across the board, what she is doing is what drove me crazy because she’s doing it so well. She wants me to feel how I feel. She wants me to want to throw a chair. That’s the whole point. It’s like yelling at these characters.
So I will say that now I’ve come back around and I like this movie now because of what it is teaching me as I’m watching it as a director.
Still drives me crazy. It takes so long and they don’t leave. It makes it tough for me to get on board with the protagonist. And Will’s girlfriend, Kira, I think her name is…
Y’all, if you’re gonna stick around, this is what’s gonna happen to you.
So my axe to grind is: my sympathy for the characters isn’t quite there, because making dumb decisions is, I guess, what it is for me.
Pete Wright
Okay. Characters making dumb decisions. Kynan?
Kynan Dias
Yeah. For me: too many characters. If you’re uncharitable about it, everything happens in the last 20 minutes.
You get introduced to a group of people and I think you’re already inclined to be like, well, this is gonna be Agatha Christie—we’re gonna lose one of them every couple scenes. That doesn’t happen. And then at the end I’m not really sure what some of them are there for. I’m not really sure how eleven people is better than nine people here.
So some of them, especially near the end, it’s boom, boom, boom in the same scene, and that strikes me as odd and imbalanced.
Pete Wright
Okay.
Chelsea Stardust
I’d concur.
Pete Wright
Tom, as someone who owns it.
Tommy Metz III
I actually won it.
Pete Wright
What do you got?
Tommy Metz III
No, I’m just kidding. I bought it.
Pete Wright
Where are your axes?
Tommy Metz III
I don’t have a ton of axes. You can see things coming, but I think it is a slow descent. I don’t really have any axes.
Pete Wright
Okay. No axes.
Tommy Metz III
Some of it is a little predictable, but I enjoy that ride.
And one of the things that I think the filmmaker does so incredibly well—which is surprisingly hard to do—is make a convincing party atmosphere. I believe they are all friends. I believe it’s a real party. And I think that creates the quicksand that is the movie.
But yeah, once John Carroll Lynch shows up, you’re not like, “Oh, it’s story time.” You’re like, “Oh no.”
And I’m obsessed with cults. I love cults and the idea of cults. So this is really made for me.
Kynan Dias
It is tough when the literal Zodiac Killer shows up.
Chelsea Stardust
Yes. Yes.
Kynan Dias
Bring a chair for the Zodiac, please.
Pete Wright
Oh my god. I had not made that connection.
Tommy Metz III
Yeah.
Chelsea Stardust
Hundred percent.
Tommy Metz III
It’s like casting Frank Langella as the kindly neighbor.
Pete Wright
Yeah.
Tommy Metz III
He’s not kindly. There’s something under his house.
Pete Wright
I think it’s important to look at this film—exactly what you were talking about, Chelsea—that Kusama wants us to feel this way.
And I think when you look at this again from the conceit of overstayed—of “I said get out”—the fact that we know it’s ridiculous and it’s a cult and there’s something to be uncomfortable about and you should leave is separate from the fact that these people have deep history together.
That complexity is leading them to make poor decisions about their own self-interest because they’re curious about where she’s been for so long. They’re curious about this new guy who seems completely affable but very, very strange. They’re curious about so many things even though they feel weird.
And I think we get that sense from Logan Marshall-Green’s performance—this compelling ambiguity and super frustrating passivity—that he is drawn to answers at this party in spite of the fact that he should leave.
And that gap is what makes this terrifying because I can see myself in that scenario. I can see myself staying too long because I want to know what happens next. I want to know why these people have made these choices about their lives.
So I would say I don’t really have an axe for this movie. I’m excited about being axe-free.
But I do wonder: for those who have axes about too many characters, or feeling like they bled the premise too long—is there a version of this film that works better with different choices, Kynan and Chelsea? Or are these problems baked into the central premise of the party?
Kynan Dias
Maybe baked into it because it feels, on the first viewing, like it just doesn’t know what kind of movie it is. Like it’s doing it wrong.
So maybe at the end of it, when it’s recontextualized, you can think of it again.
If there were a tweak, I think the part that’s really compelling is: this is like a haunted house movie, but it’s haunted by his memories of his child. I find that stuff really compelling. Like, can I just use this time to wander through this house? That makes total sense to me.
Even as it hurts him more, he wants to see more of it. There’s the sequences where he goes into his son’s space. It turns out we’re in a flashback, and then they’ve converted it to a guest bedroom or a home office or something. That’s very interesting.
And then during the chase at the end, where in theory he has the upper hand because it’s his old house, but then he goes, “Oh, there used to be a door here,” and they’ve changed this too. That’s really exciting stuff.
Chelsea Stardust
Yeah.
I liked the—because looking at my notes from when I rewatched it: there’s a lot of characters, but I see everyone’s name and I’m like, oh yeah, I know who that is, I know who that is.
And I think it’s sort of using that Agatha Christie model of: those ensembles are really big. The challenge is making all those characters stand out and showing who they are.
And I thought it did, and that’s hard. It did a good job when it’s not actors you immediately know. This cast is more of a challenge because you don’t know all of these actors. Obviously Logan Marshall-Green, but you might not be familiar with some of the other people aside from John Carroll Lynch.
But I think it was executed pretty well here. You got a feeling of who everybody was by the personalities. And of course they play that game that helps you figure out more about them, which I thought was very smart.
Tommy Metz III
I personally like the amount of characters. I think it’s actually a pro: one of the reasons they don’t get out is because that amount of people makes it really feel like a party.
And it can be wrongly seen as armor. The people that are anti-cult dominate numbers-wise the people that are actually dangerous. That doesn’t end up helping because they don’t see the true stakes until it’s too late, which seems to be happening around the Hollywood Hills at the end.
And so yeah, having it take place in a familiar, non-familiar place, surrounded by so many old friends, actually makes a case for why you don’t leave.
And one of my favorite parts is when Choi actually shows up. That’s phenomenal because then you’re like, oh, we’re just in this guy’s head. What if he is blowing it? That pulls the rug out in a great way.
Chelsea Stardust
That moment is done so perfectly. Expertly executed.
Tommy Metz III
Yeah.
Pete Wright
When Choi shows up, we’ve spent the whole movie being told that Will is misreading the room—from the very first interaction. It’s weird.
So we’re being gaslit, and we discover we’re being gaslit when Choi shows up. And now we don’t trust anything. That bit of unsettling—putting me on my heels—was so effective. A testament to how confident this film is in its caper.
This movie could have ended with it being just social horror: everybody’s uncomfortable and now we go home and we’ll never speak to each other again. It didn’t.
The other piece: grief. This is grief. And part of the question is: there’s a pressure to move on. What happens when you resist? How long are we allowed to be broken? What is the film’s ideology on this?
Because we have both characters dealing with grief in very different ways. One found comfort in the collective—in the cult. The other has found comfort through dissociation. And I’m not sure the film actually has a perspective.
Kynan Dias
It ends up with a really beautiful moment: taking care of one of the villains—Tammy Blanchard’s Eden—that is shockingly humane to her.
Even poor Tommy, the character who shows up there, is like, okay, I guess I’m helping you have this beautiful healing moment.
They take her out to the lawn and hold her that way. And they set you up for “she’s gonna tell you the message of the movie,” right? She’s gonna say, “I have one last thing to tell you.” But she dies in mid-sentence. Doesn’t solve it. Because she’s so interesting, you do believe at the beginning that she has healed. She is over this. That’s what hurts Will so much. And then we question it in the action climax. But we’re not left with any answer. It’s not easy.
Pete Wright
That’s a really good point. And that choice—the generous ending for Eden—that’s part of the film’s weird kindness.
Chelsea Stardust
And I think both of these people are broken—Will and Eden. Having friends who have lost children: you never recover from that. Even if she’s doing this cult thing and she’s like, “Oh, I don’t feel pain,” I don’t buy that for a minute. I think it’s repressed. Will is living in the pain.
Neither one is a good situation, but you don’t recover fully. You learn how to live your life with that kind of grief as a part of it. And that comes through. Everyone’s just trying to get by and survive, because a tragedy like that changes you forever.
Pete Wright
I want to talk about the space, because first of all: this house is awesome. Really cool. And I think it lends a lot to Kusama’s ability to build tension and make a dinner party feel like a trap.
It starts with the geography of the house—how it’s used. It feels confining, compressing. It opens up to spaces that are full of windows, but because of the time of day the windows are black. So I’m always aware that somebody’s watching from the outside. I can’t see what’s going on outside.
The windows are uncovered, and yet somehow I still feel trapped in this space where the only way out is down the hidden secret stairway. I found that terrifying.
How do you feel like the movie used space—doorways, exits, sightlines? How did it hit you guys as filmmakers?
Kynan Dias
The thing that was really unsettling to me is: during all of the happy “let’s get together” stuff, we get these shots of them going upstairs.
Sure, there are houses where that happens, but the default for you is: hey, we’ve been in the bedroom, let’s go downstairs. So there’s this floaty weirdness that discombobulates.
And everything looks like, oh, we’re little sugar plum fairies dancing as we go up the stairs—but there’s something wrong about it.
Chelsea Stardust
I’m glad you brought up the houses because I think maybe this was intentional when you chose these movies, but Invitation, Night House, and Caveat: it’s all about the house. The house is a character itself. Especially in Night House. The way space is used—it’s a character itself.
Tommy Metz III
I completely agree.
This house is so modern and sleek it almost comes off sharp to me. There’s very little hominess to it. It feels like a home that is made for a set and then they just put a couple things up. It feels sharp.
And the director uses a lot of that with the camera—always looking down surfaces. The house feels like it’s made to accidentally kill you. If you trip and fall, it’s gonna be severe.
There’s something very cold about that too. While I believe in the party and the wine and the people, it never feels comfy.
And then the one scene that does start to feel comfy—when they’re all draped on the couches—that’s right in time for Lynch to show up and take that comfort away.
Pete Wright
I want to jump into the next house movie, but first: from the conceit of “Overstayed,” at what point did you personally feel anxiety for these characters? From jump? Or into the third act? Where did you get scared? Kynan?
Kynan Dias
From the jump. Something about the space feels off, like Tommy’s saying. He doesn’t feel like he is ready to approach this place.
So for me it’s the entire time, which might speak to what Chelsea’s saying about “get out of there.”
But that reversal when Choi shows up, you do go, okay. We could all sit down and have a glass of wine and talk our way out of this. Maybe this is actually The Big Chill and I didn’t see it.
Pete Wright
Chelsea?
Chelsea Stardust
It opens with them hitting a coyote. That’s a signal: things are not right. Okay, this is a bad omen.
And Will has to kill it. We’re not off to a great start. Very ominous.
But I think it’s when they go in the house and they see Sadie—full Winnie the Pooh, no pants on—I was like, okay, well… things are not quite right in this house.
Pete Wright
Sadie reveal. Tom?
Tommy Metz III
Between Sadie’s reveal and the locking of the front door.
Because there are so many home invasions, but to that point—so late in the movie—when he’s slapping drinks out of people’s hands, part of me is still like, don’t knock over the apple part. The ship has sailed and I’m still like, you’re gonna make a mess.
So for me, the whole social contract and that pressure still feels—especially once the Choi carpet is pulled out—there’s still part of me that’s like: I think I would stay. I wouldn’t be running around being so impulsive. I would have lost that ability.
And I would take too much accidental comfort in: if something was wrong, someone else would step up. That comfort of crowds, which—though we know from history—doesn’t. Everyone just stands there watching.
Pete Wright
The lie of the crowd.
That takes us from dinner party and lands us into the lovely lonely house on the lake.
If The Invitation is about being trapped by social obligation, by the need to not seem crazy, by the need to… I hope we all reached out with a proof of life to some old friends so we wouldn’t be invited to their next cult meeting.
We move into The Night House, which is also about grief, and this time there’s no one else in the room. The trap is different. For whom was this movie new?
Chelsea Stardust
Wonderful.
Pete Wright
Two. Okay: Tommy and Kynan are new. Chelsea’s old hat.
Chelsea, do you see this and think, oh, these movies are talking to each other? You already brought up the homes.
Chelsea Stardust
Yeah, absolutely.
I hadn’t thought about it before, this pairing, but now seeing it: oh my God, absolutely. These three are perfect.
Pete Wright
The Night House is David Bruckner’s 2020 film. Rebecca Hall plays Beth, a schoolteacher whose husband just died by suicide. She is alone in this lake house that he built for her. She’s drinking too much. She’s grieving badly. And she’s starting to discover that her husband had secrets. So many secrets.
Axes to grind for the newbies. Tommy, you go first.
Tommy Metz III
My axe to grind is that I haven’t heard of or seen this movie earlier. I thought most of this movie was a masterpiece. I was blown away. This is my favorite of the bunch.
It hits every type of what makes me scared and makes me hopeful and is sad. Everything.
I went in expecting maybe more of a thriller than horror, and I disagree. I think it’s very much a supernatural thriller and a supernatural horror movie.
And I love Rebecca Hall so much that as soon as I finished it, I watched The Town because I wanted to see her again in another thing.
Pete Wright
Excellent. Kynan?
Kynan Dias
This is a lovely movie.
My axe is titles. This is such a generic name. It must have made it hard for people to find this. I think that’s a real trap horror distributors need to get over.
It’s so generic, and this movie is not generic at all. I’ve never really seen anything quite like it.
And yeah, Rebecca Hall is a genius, but this is one of her best performances. This really deserved to be seen more.
Pete Wright
Chelsea, not new to you. Any fresh axes?
Chelsea Stardust
Full transparency: Dave Bruckner is a very close friend. I’m best friends with his wife. He signed a copy of this movie for my dad. He’s been to my—he was at my wedding.
So I’m very close with Dave. I know the writers. I might text them and ask if there was a different title originally.
I saw this movie—unfortunately it came out in 2020, tough time.
I did a double feature of this with Nia DaCosta’s Candyman, which was a great double feature because so much is about space and there’s mirror stuff.
This movie lives in dark. It’s so great to see in darkness with the volume up. Perfect theatrical experience.
I wasn’t sold on Rebecca Hall until I saw this movie.
And I have zero axes to grind. Like The Invitation: beautifully directed, expertly directed. I want to be able to direct a movie as good as this.
So: no axes. Sorry, long-winded.
Pete Wright
No substantive axes from me either.
Big questions: does the whole “Nothing” work as a concept? Or is it too abstract? Does the mythology explain itself well? Does the third act stick the landing?
We spend a lot of time in one mode before shifting into the answer section. Is that effective?
There aren’t many supporting characters. Are they vestigial?
For me, the ambiguity worked. Horror films that center on grief sometimes get accused of trauma as set dressing. I’m hearing from all of you that this film has earned its darkness, and that Rebecca Hall—through her performance—has earned it.
If I ask you: what’s the central anxiety of this movie? What fear is it really processing?
Kynan Dias
It’s about the meaning of life. Tiny little things like: are we alone in the universe, is there a point to living.
Chelsea Stardust
And after—what’s after?
Pete Wright
Ask a stupid question, get a gigantic existential answer.
Tommy Metz III
This movie and The Ritual both really gain strength from: not speaking the language.
The fact that this movie hints at this alien world, these things that are bigger than you. If you knew how to decipher it, you could figure it out and be ahead of it, but we don’t have the language.
So there’s a lot of unknown. You’re glimpsing through the door, you’re not fully getting it. And it’s better for it.
Kynan Dias
I read that this has sometimes been called like a demon movie, which it isn’t, but it has those trappings. He’s doing this house to trick something bigger than that.
He’s created this reverse house and this reverse life and become a monster to stave off death.
It’s shocking how the lack of a visible villain is used to such good effect. The negative space in the architecture does jump scares, but it’s not just jump scares. You’re looking in the face of literally nothing.
Not a dark mask standing in for nothing. Literally nothing. I’ve never seen anything like it. The movie refuses to personify it. It does the opposite.
Pete Wright
The architecture: the decorative columns where the camera moves six inches and suddenly it’s a face. Pictures that emerge through camera movements. The space that could be filled by something perfect and invisible.
It’s as effective as the Invisible Man remake was in dealing with what you can’t see.
And you’re right: it’s not the thing jumping, it’s the camera moving and creating something that makes me jump.
Tommy Metz III
You could almost call it a nighthouse.
Kynan Dias
See, I thought we were done with the axes.
Pete Wright
What the heck does that mean? The Night House? All houses are at night.
Tommy Metz III
Doesn’t mean anything. It’s so dumb.
Pete Wright
No, this was the house where he goes at night. That’s his… he goes to the other house.
Chelsea Stardust
It’s the other house. The other house is the night house.
Pete Wright
From our conceit: what is keeping Beth in that house?
She’s processing grief, but she’s also mad at the world. Rebecca Hall plays that anger in really fun ways.
My favorite sequence isn’t about the house at all. It’s when she’s talking to the mother that comes into her classroom asking for her kid to get a better grade. And Beth says: my husband put a gun in his mouth and blew his head off on Thursday. What grade does your son want?
Incredible.
Anyway: what is keeping her in the house? What is her relationship with that space, so we get to process it together?
Chelsea Stardust
She’s trying to leave the house. She’s packing up. She’s not planning to stay in that house.
I think she’s in the process of moving out. And then she starts seeing weird stuff and she wants to understand it.
You figure out the trauma she went through as a kid with the car accident—she’s like, I saw nothing, but is there something?
And she doesn’t find out all this stuff until kind of halfway through, when she discovers that little figure with the nails in it.
And then the last moments, where she sees what’s under the floor in the night house.
So she wants answers. She’s getting signs. She wants to figure it out.
Kynan Dias
It’s nagging at her.
Everyone’s asking her questions. Even her friend Claire can’t help asking: what did it really say, what really happened?
She doesn’t have that. She’s left with grief that isn’t easy to solve. He wasn’t depressive, she was, yet he still took his own life.
Once she starts digging—who is my husband, really—Claire’s version of “maybe you should get out of the house” is: maybe you should let this mystery go. Don’t look anymore.
And then she can’t help herself.
Pete Wright
Final reveal: Beth learns Owen was being stalked by this entity—Nothing—and he tried to stave it off by sending it other victims. It wanted Beth because it had marked her after her childhood brush with death.
This is where the movie makes literal something that has been figurative.
Tom, why does this work so well? Because normally I’d complain about this kind of ending. Hereditary made me complain about this kind of ending.
Tommy Metz III
It works for me because it makes things real while still keeping them in the dark.
It’s like Session 9—getting a look at what’s on the other side. Malevolent entities. Something against us.
It’s Lovecraftian. Big, insane gods we don’t understand.
Beth is in the middle of a conversation the entire movie. She’s talking—she just doesn’t know she’s talking. The radio is talking to her, her husband is talking to her.
So I love it. I want to know what’s in the void. As soon as I know, it won’t work anymore. This movie takes you far enough.
Like Session 9: “I live in the weak and the wounded.” Entities attach themselves for different reasons, and in horror a lot of the time it’s grief.
Pete Wright
One thing I love about her performance: in the final moments, she just plain refuses to go. That stubbornness—rooted in her anger—becomes armor. Very satisfying.
From our conceit: did she stay too long? Or did she have to stay to solve the mystery for her own good?
Kynan Dias
She had to stay. It’s absolutely the right thing, eventually.
Tommy Metz III
Yeah, me too.
Chelsea Stardust
Yep, absolutely.
Pete Wright
Would all of you have stayed as long as she did?
Chelsea Stardust
The minute the radio turned on, I’d be out of there.
Kynan Dias
The bloody footsteps on the dock, maybe. Whether that’s the ghost of my dead husband or not, I’m not a fan of bloody footprints.
Chelsea Stardust
That might have been it.
Pete Wright
It’s a good moment.
Chelsea Stardust
No, I’m not Owen. Ugh.
Kynan Dias
Good stuff.
Chelsea Stardust
And the last line: “There’s nothing. There’s nothing there.” Chills.
Pete Wright
I’m so glad it hit you all with the same joy. I find it really satisfying. Tom, you were gonna say something.
Tommy Metz III
Oh, just: I would have stayed.
This podcast is called Sitting in the Dark in part because on the first episode I explained how I used to sit in the dark in my garage trying to scare myself as a child. I’m drawn to the darkness. So I would stay.
I’d be walking around trying to make people out of different shapes in the wall. I’d be like, that one looks like a duck. It’s kind of like looking at clouds.
Chelsea Stardust
Yes.
Pete Wright
The production is so beautiful because it feels like stereograms. Like I just need to hold my finger up to my nose to see the real pattern.
It’s so effective.
We gotta change gears to our last wack-a-doo contribution from Damien McCarthy: Caveat. This movie is something else entirely. Takes money to stay in a place he cannot leave, then discovers what’s waiting for him there.
It’s the most literal overstayed of the three, I think, and possibly the strangest.
Before we get into it: initial takes, and most importantly: axes. Tom. Tom, Jesus!
Tommy Metz III
This movie is an axe grind for me.
The suspension of disbelief is almost played as a laugh when the title “Caveat” comes up. It feels insane that he would agree to it.
She’s catatonic, covering her eyes. He’s being locked into a harness on an island where the last caretaker committed suicide—and that’s 12 minutes in.
When they lock him in the harness, I was like, oh no. I’m not with the movie. Unfortunately.
Once I got rid of all that and met the movie on its level, I enjoyed it more. But there was no “what would you do” for me like Barbarian or The Invitation.
I’m not an insanely bearded drifter in Ireland willing to do anything. Just be shackled for the creepiest house in the world on the one place I can’t get out of because I can’t swim.
There’s no character development at the beginning. No save-the-cat. You’re launched into it.
There’s room for that, but I think I need to revisit it. Now that I know it’s not going to give me those things and I need to be ready for the ride, I think I’d have a different experience.
That big logic suspension-of-disbelief clouded too much of the movie for me, unfortunately, because there’s a lot of cool stuff that works.
Pete Wright
Chelsea?
Chelsea Stardust
I think Tommy’s first experience with Caveat is my first experience with The Invitation.
This came out during the pandemic too, 2021. I love Oddity. Loved that movie. A lot of people talked about Caveat, so this was my first time watching.
My axes: I wrote in huge letters, “Too many red flags. Why stay? Oh my God.” That was within the first couple minutes.
But I liked the movie as a whole. Because I’d seen Oddity, I kind of knew what I was getting into.
The rabbit: I wanted more from the rabbit. I wanted it to do more because I really liked it—using it as a dowsing rod.
But at the beginning, when Mo is trying to hire Isaac: there’s no negotiation. He offers him like 200 pounds or whatever and Isaac doesn’t negotiate.
Then you get to the house, he sees the girl, he sees the harness he has to wear, and he doesn’t say, “You know what? 200 isn’t enough. I’m leaving unless you give me twenty thousand.”
We don’t know enough about this guy to know he’s desperate for money and will do anything.
Also: no clothes, no suitcase, no food in the house. Can’t swim. How do you get off the island? There’s no boat there.
That setup makes it tough for me to track logic-wise. Even one little script thing—“hey man, this is really weird, I need more money”—would have helped.
And also: bro, you’re reaching through to pick up the phone, but you don’t grab the key.
Pete Wright
A cornucopia of axes. Little blades.
Kynan?
Kynan Dias
This was new to me.
I went in as cold as I could except for the bunny image.
I didn’t have the same problems Tommy and Chelsea did.
For me, the cold open makes me understand we’re not dealing with the real world, and then the movie is basically eight or nine cold opens in a row.
So it keeps me from really caring about these people the way I do in Night House or even Invitation.
They’re more bodies than people. Figures to be tied up. I wasn’t interested in caring about them, but I also didn’t get the same highs as character-based films.
I thought it was really arresting and I was okay being along for that.
Pete Wright
I’m on Team Kynan.
For me, this movie is fundamentally about economic desperation and what it forces you to accept. In that regard, it’s a fable.
It asks questions about memory and culpability: what you don’t remember, you can’t be blamed for.
Confinement as consent: he agreed to be chained, so anything that happens once you’re chained was in the fine print.
I think the chain is an externalization of the trap in the other two movies. Rebecca Hall was wearing the same harness—you just couldn’t see it. So was Will—you just couldn’t see it.
Now: does the timing—when the protagonist catches up to the audience—change the experience? Will suspects early. Beth discovers slowly. Isaac doesn’t even know who he is.
How does that timing impact this film? When do you think Isaac comes to terms with the fact that he is in trouble? When they buckle the harness, it doesn’t feel like he senses trouble at all.
Tommy Metz III
He did, but he didn’t put up much of a fight. He said, “Every job has a uniform. This isn’t a uniform, it’s a leash,” or whatever that line was.
So he’s saying it’s insane from the beginning, but then it jump cuts to him being locked in.
That goes to your fable stuff: his situation is forcing him into captivity because he has nothing else.
Pete Wright
Has any of this perspective changed how you feel about the movie, Tom?
Tommy Metz III
Absolutely. I want to watch it again now knowing to meet it on its own. I like the idea of it being a fable—not literally happening. That works better for me.
I didn’t have that perspective.
Kynan Dias
We catch up to Isaac, and I don’t know if he ever really understands what happened here by the end. He’s been put into this place and this uncle kind of hoped he would kill her or she would kill him.
I don’t think he really understands that ambiguous ending: he’s free, she’s not free, they look at each other, he’s still afraid of her.
Chelsea Stardust
The way information is told—Olga and Mo and Isaac remembering or not remembering—this is a linear but nonlinear story. Flashbacks. You’re sorting it out. It’s a confident move, and for the most part it works.
And yes: he can’t leave. He’s on an island and can’t swim.
Though I’m like: bro, I think you could have wiggled your way out of that harness if you wanted to. I wanted more effort there.
Pete Wright
From synthesis: these films calibrate differently around when protagonist awareness catches up to audience awareness. Isaac doesn’t sense trouble much at all.
Tom, does the fable framework erode your frustration?
Tommy Metz III
Yes. It helps. I want to watch it again now and let that stuff go.
Pete Wright
All right.
Thank you for watching the movie. It’s bonkers. Thank you for watching all three of these movies.
We started with this idea that horror sometimes arrives not with violence, but with a drink refilled or a door not quite closed, or a promise already made. These films understand that. They understand that the cost of leaving can feel higher than the cost of staying, even when staying might kill you.
So the final question: what is it about this trap that resonates? Why do these films work? Is it because we’ve all stayed somewhere we shouldn’t? Agreed to something we knew was wrong? Needed an answer more than safety?
What does it mean that these films understand us so well?
I love this premise, and I thank you all for staying—pun intended—through all three of them.
Any final reflections as we roll into next month’s coming attractions?
Chelsea Stardust
I loved this pairing. I loved this triplet. Triptych. So good.
Tommy Metz III
This was great.
Pete Wright
Thank you.
Tommy Metz III
And I think maybe just to answer your question—which you didn’t ask for an answer to—is one of the reasons it works so well is it’s almost meta about the deal we’re making by seeing horror movies.
We’re seeing something that is going to scare us, and we’re saying, yep, and we stay. We watch the entire movie. It’s going to shock us if it does its job right. It’s going to make us uncomfortable. That’s a weird relationship to have with something voluntarily. So it’s a nice parallel.
Chelsea Stardust
Yes.
Kynan Dias
As the scaredy cat of the group, I have been there where I said, I regret walking into this theater. Why don’t I just leave?
Pete Wright
Then it’s really appropriate for us to turn our attention to you, Kynan. It’s your turn next month and we’re going in cold. What are you gonna do to us?
Kynan Dias
All right.
I have decided that we as a group on Sitting in the Dark are gonna go big or go home, which is what I’m calling our month next week.
We’re gonna look at some giant monster movies. Now we might come back and see some of the classic ones—the stop-motion, guys in rubber suits—but we’re going to look at some international 21st-century ones.
Starting with, from South Korea, Bong Joon-ho’s The Host. Which, if you have seen it, is worth a rewatch—and now that Bong has become one of the masters of world cinema.
We’ll take a look at that.
We will watch from Norway, André Øvredal’s 2010 film Trollhunter.
And we’re gonna check back in with the original Big Daddy: from 2023, Takashi Yamazaki’s Godzilla Minus One, which I have not seen yet.
Tommy Metz III
I haven’t either.
Chelsea Stardust
Oh y’all. Oh y’all. Oh my gosh.
Kynan Dias
Oh, so let’s do it.
Pete Wright
This is so great. Timing is perfect because Godzilla Minus Zero or whatever is on its way.
Wonderful selection.
One platform question: you haven’t seen it, so are you gonna watch Godzilla Minus One in black and white or in color?
Kynan Dias
That’s a good question. I don’t know. What should you do?
Tommy Metz III
We have the option?
Kynan Dias
What do I do?
Chelsea Stardust
Yeah.
Pete Wright
Yeah. You can watch either black and white or color. It was originally released in black and white and the color was released later.
Personally, I think—like The Mist—black and white is a better experience. It captures the vibe.
I think Godzilla Minus One: we need to go black and white unless you watch both.
Kynan Dias
All right. I will listen to you, Pete. We will watch the black and white.
Chelsea Stardust
Right.
Tommy Metz III
Me too.
Pete Wright
Okay. What a great pairing.
That comes next month. And that is our show. If you stayed this long, we sure appreciate it.
Until next time, just be careful what invitations you accept.
On behalf of Kynan Dias and Chelsea Stardust and Tommy Metz III, I’m Pete Wright, and we will see you next month, right here, sitting in the dark.
