Anyone who’s ever been a full-time caregiver, either professionally or voluntarily, knows that a strange intimacy emerges in even the coldest, most emotionally detached circumstances. There’s an agreed-upon mutual vulnerability, an acceptance that you’re going to know each other not just intimately but in a mundane way, and it breeds some strange reactions. 

Night Nurse, the feature debut from writer/director Georgia Bernstein (best known as a producer on things like All Jacked Up and Full of Worms), thrives in this strangeness, and it’s at its best when it embraces it wholly and without judgement. Despite some narrative stumbles, particularly in the third act, this is an emotionally precise, compelling psychological thriller with layers to spare.

Eleni (Cemre Paksoy) has just taken a job as a nurse at a luxury retirement community, the kind where each patient has a private villa and receives 24-hour care from a pair of nurses, one for daytime and one for night. As the newbie of the group, Eleni gets night nurse duty and ends up paired with Douglas (Bruce McKenzie), a charming, strangely alluring man battling dementia. With input from Douglas’s day shift nurse, Mona (Eleonore Hendricks), Eleni quickly becomes fascinated by the man, who might be a high-functioning old guy with memory issues or might just be a master con artist. 

Soon, the latter impression takes hold, as Douglas ropes Eleni into his ongoing game of phone scamming other members of the community for cash. The danger of these scams, and the risk Eleni feels when she gets on the phone to pretend to be a distressed granddaughter in need of money, is intoxicating, but the longer the game goes on, the more she has to wonder: Who’s taking care of who, and what happens when the relationship starts to fray?

Bernstein approaches this narrative with an intense intimacy, a closeness to the characters and their contained little world of Douglas’s villa that hums with menace and uncertainty. From an opening credits sequence that feels worthy of Brian De Palma to a breathtaking moment when Eleni first discovers what Douglas is really up to, Bernstein leaves us no distance from these characters, and that’s by design. The closeness, helped along by inventive and painterly cinematography from Lidia Nikonova, builds a universe within Douglas’s villa, and probes Eleni’s persistent loneliness while she gets closer and closer to her charge and his schemes.

While it does function as a psychological thriller, with all the requisite darkness, tension, and destructive behavior, Night Nurse works best when it’s patient, something Bernstein and editor Alex Jacobs underscore at every opportunity. The film refuses to spoon feed its audience the details of each character’s motives and judgement, leaving us instead with the often impulsive, often intuitive decisions of Eleni, Douglas, and Mona as they move through this strange space they’ve created for themselves.

It’s a filmmaking method that leans heavily on the performances to communicate emotional subtleties, and while Bernstein’s craft is on-point, it’s the work of Paksoy and McKenzie that makes the movie. Together they’re a duo we can’t look away from, their interactions sometimes erotically charged, sometimes tender in a way that recalls a father-daughter bond, but always laced with something darker. Paksoy can make entire scenes of silence into compelling drama, and McKenzie is a relentless bomb of charm and danger. 

As all of these elements swirl together, Night Nurse becomes a meditation on the strangeness of the bond between a caregiver and a patient, and how far each will go to hold up the other. Eleni enters Douglas’s world and finds a home there not because she’s innately suited to criminal enterprise, but because she finds something thrilling and genuinely satisfying in meeting the old man’s needs, even if they are sometimes nefarious. Douglas, for his part, takes satisfaction in manipulating those around him, but he also relishes the tenderness that comes from Eleni and Mona’s devotion. These elements dance around each other so delicately that it genuinely feels like just about anything could happen next, and for most of its runtime Night Nurse milks that feeling for all it’s worth.

The only place it falters, unfortunately, is in the final act, when characters move into place for a conclusion that feels only partially earned. One of the dangers of building a film so firmly on top of intuition, intimacy, and patience is what happens when you let all of that fall away in service of plotting, and Night Nurse never quite makes that transition. Rough-edged though it is, though, the ending can’t take away from the solid filmmaking foundation that built this movie, and by the third act that foundation is so firm that the film still mostly holds together. 

There are stumbles in Night Nurse, as there are in basically any directorial debut, but those do little to diminish the promise at work in this movie. Georgia Bernstein is a star in the making on the indie scene, and I can’t wait to see what she does next. 

Night Nurse is in theaters July 10.