Reviews
‘Redux Redux’ Review – Multiverse Revenge Thriller Smartly Refuses to Get Repetitive
“Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.” It’s a well-known proverb that frequently applies to revenge thrillers that see their protagonists slowly transform into monsters themselves when wholly consumed by their vengeance. The logline for Redux Redux suggests a similar path for its lead character, a distraught mother driven to murder her daughter’s killer over and over again, snuffing out every iteration by hopping through the multiverse. Luckily the McManus Brothers, writer/director duo Matthew and Kevin McManus (The Block Island Sound), know how repetitive this sounds and use it instead as the foundation for a violent yet profoundly emotional journey.
We meet Irene Kelly (Michaela McManus) well into her established routine of stalking and then dispatching Neville (Jeremy Holm) by any means necessary. Her wrath and determination feel as fresh as the cuts and bruises on her face when the reality is that her vengeful murder spree of one single man is now edging toward the thousands. Despite the endless practice, it’s dangerous and volatile work that puts Irene at risk of getting caught by authorities or worse – dead. Yet the higher the body count gets, the more subtle changes between universes throw catastrophic wrenches into Irene’s plan of attack. Changes that could potentially break her addition to murdering Neville or cause her to lose her humanity altogether.
The McManus brothers smartly ground their multiverse in reality; despite its sci-fi leanings, every version of Irene’s world looks identical save for small changes in character or routine. For example, in one realm, Neville is a waiter instead of the line cook at the diner. Irene prowls to track him. Or a convenience store clerk might be more welcoming in this universe than the last. It’s subtle variations that keep Irene, and the viewer by proxy, on her toes even in a deeply familiar setting. While that occasionally sparks an intense getaway from the cops, Irene simply hops into her coffin-like multiverse machine, a not-so-subtle visual metaphor for the grave she’s willingly digging for herself to move on the next.
Just when Redux Redux feels poised to continue down this path toward exhausting repetition, it introduces a narrative foil in Mia (Stella Marcus), a rare victim of Neville’s found still alive. The teen runaway turned trauma survivor clings to her savior, shattering the careful routine and injecting a chaotic unpredictability. That’s largely due to Marcus’ bold performance; Mia is a teen who rebukes authority and is as unwaveringly stubborn as Irene. Her loose set of morals born of survival needs becomes both an asset and a hindrance in ways that often lead to exciting chase sequences, confrontations, and even horror-leaning violence right up to the intensely harrowing and violent finale. It’s the much needed shakeup that both Irena and her story needed to avoid retreading similar fare.
Also clever is the way the filmmakers structure this twisted revenge tale. Irene is introduced as the violent aggressor, framing Neville as a hapless diner employee with smaller clues of villainy. As Irena continues down her path, however, her guard lowers, giving glimpses of her vulnerabilities and soulful heartbreak as Neville showcases more and more of his sadistic streak. Holm becomes utterly terrifying in the climax, ensuring that no matter whether Irene loses herself to vengeance for good or not, it’s justified if it means ridding the world of this sick maniac.
Redux Redux takes the tired multiverse concept and makes it feel fresh through its gritty, grounded approach and tautly wound storytelling. There’s a complexity to Irene’s grief that’s authentic and layered, more than earning her emotional journey and rooting interest even as she makes missteps. Slickly directed and cleverly told, Redux Redux makes for a dread-soaked and pleasantly unpredictable surprise of an indie sci-fi thriller.
Redux Redux made its world premiere at SXSW last year and releases in theaters on February 20, 2026.
Editor’s Note: This SXSW review was originally published on March 13, 2025.
Movies
‘Recluse’ Review – Harrowing Haunted House Horror With Lots Of Skeletons In Its Closet [Tribeca 2026]
A haunted house story is tense, terrifying storytelling when it’s properly executed. There’s been a growing tendency in horror to blend together harrowing haunted house stories with traumatic homecomings. A family member’s illness or death triggers a return to something dark that was intentionally left behind. Recluse hits all the tropes that one expects to find in this type of horror film, yet it manages to push this story in a daring, disturbing new direction that uses sound as a superpower.
It’s a unique lens to experience a familiar story about family secrets, generational trauma, unresolved grief, and the importance of not just legacy, but preservation. It’s a hell of a directorial debut from Henry Chaisson that’s guaranteed to get under the audience’s skin as they’re dragged through this painful, toxic tale.
Recluse is a gothic haunted house story where an isolated audio engineer, Joan (Sasha Frolova), returns to her family’s estate to check in on her father after he suffers a terrible accident. Joan suddenly discovers something much more sinister that paints her family’s tragedies in a very different light. Chaisson’s debut functions as a fascinating companion piece to this year’s undertone, which does a lot of the same things.
These two films make for a fascinating case of parallel thinking that tackles comparable subject matter through a similar lens, albeit in a bigger, less claustrophobic story in Recluse’s case. In fact, it’s the perfect horror film for anyone who was let down by undertone and didn’t feel like it brought enough to the table. It’s a considerably more conventional horror film, but this isn’t meant to denigrate its high quality. Recluse may hit some familiar notes, but it’s a scary, well-crafted haunted house horror story that goes for the jugular.
A gripping mystery that involves the tragic, unresolved circumstances that surround Joan’s mother teases a chilling connection to the recent horrors that have afflicted her father. Joan desperately tries to put these pieces together and give her family some sense of grander peace before she’s pulled under and becomes another victim of this festering curse that’s systematically worked its way through the Wyatt family. By doing so, Recluse digs into some deeper commentary on collective trauma, a very literal look at the “sins of the father” adage, and how one selfish decision can ripple through generations and fracture off into different dilemmas. By the end, Recluse has brilliantly flipped the powerful concept of legacy on its head by illustrating the horrors and sense of entitlement that can be born out of this idea.
A legacy is just another name for a curse under the right context.
”Listen” is a simple but powerful command from Joan’s father that she briefly obsesses over. In a way, it becomes Recluse’s grander mission statement, whether it’s in response to Joan listening to the people in her life, the signals that her body and mind are telling her, or the world’s greater whims. It’s important to reconnect with these grounding pillars, especially when it feels like control is slipping away.
Recluse excels with how audio and soundscapes can create entire universes that are full of rich details that transport individuals to these environments. There’s also a level of objectivity when it comes to audio recordings and the evergreen permanence that they’re able to provide. Joan’s career as an audio engineer makes sense for someone who wants to cling to hard evidence and proof of existence. It provides great insight into Joan without ever getting lost in contrived exposition.
Joan’s entire life is built around audio engineering, and so it makes sense that Recluse features excellent sound design that really goes above and beyond with its production elements. All of the sound design is expertly handled and turns the film into something special. These auditory elements intuitively keep the audience on edge so that they’re more susceptible to the actual scares that eventually strike. The smallest sound effect gets turned into a crushing, cacophonous assault. It’s a really effective way to build terror. Writer/Director Chaisson also handles the film’s music, which achieves a sublime, unnerving dissonance that further heightens the free-floating anxiety.
The story at the center of Recluse is slightly generic in some respects, but the film’s visual language and tone make it feel distinctly memorable. It also doesn’t hurt that the home that Joan returns to is basically an eerie art studio that’s full of contorted paintings. Recluse never struggles to generate mounting dread and terror that pump through every scene. Powerful, thoughtful cinematography consistently reinforces the film’s themes. Joan is constantly reflected in different surfaces or viewed through mirrors. She’s also often confined to tight, constricting framing that all speaks to her refracted identity during this moment of loss and her attempts to regain agency and control by making sense of something that’s seemingly unexplainable.
Recluse is full of truly disturbing visuals that make it seem like Joan is lost in a dream that turns out to be an extended nightmare. It’s a surreal journey reminiscent of invasive psychological horror like Silent Hill, with a touch of Sinister and Hereditary thrown in for good measure. There are so many individual frames that could endlessly fuel urban legends and creepypastas.
It does a great job with how it presents Joan’s fragile state of mind, where chilling flashes of the past sneak up on her and unresolved trauma manifests into unsettling imagery. There are endless shots that are obscured in darkness, or shadow is creeping in from the corners of frames like a suffocating force of nature. It’s very rare that a scene is fully lit. It leads to a very lonely, isolating atmosphere that’s easy to get lost in.
Chaisson’s debut stands out from the many other high-minded haunted house horror films without succumbing to the same pretensions that often drag down these stories. It’s a grief-stricken character study that’s full of upsetting visuals that scratch at something visceral and raw. The horror elements connect, and the answers to its grander mystery provide an appropriate and believable sense of closure. Those who are looking for an atmospheric horror film that isn’t afraid to be different while still channeling something real will appreciate Recluse.
Recluse made its world premiere at Tribeca; release info TBD.
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