A Knock in the Night That Changes Everything
In isolation, the threat looms heavy and uncommunicated just as much as a ghost does. In his 2025 film Vicious, screenwriter and director Bryan Bertino (The Strangers) captures the deeply unsettling and psychologically painful dread that people experience. That solitary, oppressive guilt, and the strange, pervasive sense that something awful is about to occur long before any violence is visible.
The film tells the story of Rachel (Anya Taylor-Joy), a young widow mourning the death of her husband, and is stuck in a solitary countryside home as an unknown character pursues and psychologically torments her. The plot does indeed begin as a standard home invasion story but quickly transforms into something more disturbing — a psychological unraveling that Rachel suffers, in tandem with the threat of a mysterious assailant.
The sense of expectation from fans is understandable with the release of the first trailer. However, the footage, which was described as cold and quiet, created an atmosphere that was particularly laden with unspoken tension, and the people behind the film seemed to be more interested in the psychological rather than the more common, easily marketed survival element. The film is about unresolved trauma.
Fear as a Reflection of Grief
At the center of Vicious lies a disturbing thought. What if the danger outside your house is a mere shadow of what you keep locked away inside? Rachel confronts her tormentor and struggles to separate an outside threat from the inside anguish. Grief leaves traces of missing manifestations and is locked away in the form of a hallucination or decaying memory—an unrecognizable spiral that is growing and paranoid.
Bertino, who in the past transformed personal anxiety into a form of cinematic fear (The Dark and the Wicked), now uses Vicious as a metaphor for self-destructive behavior. In an interview, he explained, “Every home invasion is emotional first. The intruder isn’t always a person—sometimes, it’s memory.”
The house feels decaying and the sentiments within a familial loss. The house itself feels like a living entity—creaking, sighing, and observing. Like a sadistic puppeteer, controlling and dispensed memories.
Anya Taylor-Joy’s Quiet Storm
Anya Taylor-Joy carries Vicious with the same intensity that made her unforgettable in The Witch and Last Night in Soho. In Vicious, there is a sense of greater emotional and physical stripping away. The camera captures the rawness of her smallest expressions, her trembling breath, and her anxiety of turning a doorknob.
In preparation for her role, Taylor-Joy is said to have spent several weeks in solitary retreat, journaling as her character and writing letters to her imaginary deceased husband. This form of psychological preparation gave her the ability to conflate her emotions with those of Rachel, as evidenced in her performances which were raw and streaked with tears.
In a behind-the-scenes interview, Bertino commended her commitment: “Anya didn’t just act fear — she lived inside it. There were days she refused to see the crew between takes, staying in the dark to preserve Rachel’s mental state.” These results speak for themselves. Every scream is unrestrained, every silence is tangible. Her character is not a victim; she is a woman in a state of disintegration, collapsing under the burden of her past.
The Sound of Silence and the Shadow of the Camera
Bertino’s vision, as well as the visual and sound design, are key components to Vicious alongside the performances. The film’s tension is not built through music, but rather through the absence of it. There are long stretches of silence, which are broken only by the soft sound of floorboards creaking or the wind passing by. The cinematography by Tristan Nyby (of The Black Phone fame) employs stark contrasts, with cold moonlight cutting through the darkness of the house, and illuminating the darkness, giving the impression that even light is intrusive.
Fans of Bertino’s works have commented that the emotional depth of the film’s teaser scenes — the faint knock, the open door, and the reflection in the window — seem to predate his other works. It’s less about who’s outside and more about Rachel and what she conjures.
There’s a particularly haunting moment in which Rachel sees a figure standing in the hallway mirror, motionless, only for the figure to blink when she looks away. It’s the questioning of the reality of the figure that most fully embodies the horror philosophy of Vicious: fear exists in ambiguity.
Behind the Camera: The Making of a Modern Nightmare
The intensity of the production for Vicious matched the film’s own intensity. Filmed largely in a single location for 40 days, the compact crew functioned like a theatre troupe, often improvising lighting designs to achieve true spontaneity. Bertino stated that for particular scenes, he intentionally did not use digital monitoring screens, allowing Taylor-Joy and the cinematographer to work solely on instinct.
For its isolation and authenticity, Louisiana’s rural location was selected. The house had a reputation of being abandoned and of decay for over a decade. Some cast members described hearing unexplainable sounds, but Bertino attributed them to “atmospheric perks” of the location.
Worry of on-set safety due to lack of realism was also talked about. For one, a near- dark stunt was made during a window-breaking scene. The sequence, however, was one of the most praised during early screenings, and further made the film a success.
Since its first teaser, a large conversation online has been posted about Vicious. Some of the audience sees the film as a supernatural commentary on grief and isolation, while others regard as an intruder of the mind, a ghost, and psychosis. The ambiguity of the film drives its discourse.
One Reddit thread “The Monster Was Never Real” discusses how flashbacks and panic attacks during Rachel’s final scene reframe the narrative. By the end the audience is left with a tapestry of trauma that leaves the audience to question what is the truth.
Bertino has refused to clarify the ending saying, “It’s not about who’s knocking. It’s about whether you’ll open the door.”
Horror That Hurts Because It’s True
What separates Vicious from typical horror is its refusal to offer catharsis. There is no grand reveal, no triumphant victory. And even when daylight comes, Rachel’s face tells us that survival doesn’t mean freedom. The horror doesn’t fade… it lingers, and not in the shadows, but in her mind.
Anya Taylor-Joy’s performance and Bertino’s unwavering direction makes Vicious less a movie and more an experience to behold: a slow-burning panic that refuses to subside. This is the sort of movie that leaves the audience in silence as the credits roll, unready to applaud, and simply, to breathe.
Beneath the blood and darkness, the most human thing is the reminder that the scariest part of the night is realizing you’ve been your own monster all along.
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