Reviews
‘The Terror: Devil in Silver’ Is A Primal Psychological Assault Against Unstoppable Evil [Review]
Anthology horror, especially the vehicles that tell one story across a season of television, has the freedom to explore such creative territory. The Terror is a bit of a horror anthology anomaly that doesn’t always get its due, despite having a flawless record for disturbing, disruptive horror that cuts to the core of the human condition.
The oppressive and abusive nature of psychiatric hospitals is well-trodden territory for the horror genre. The Terror: The Devil in Silver, based on Victor LaValle’s novel, fearlessly embraces the invasive horrors of these psychiatric institutions in order to tell an unnerving new story that depicts a very visceral, timely side of terror that, in some respects, is the most disturbing of the anthology series’ three seasons. The Terror, in all its supernatural scares and traumatic trickery, has never been more back.
In the series’ third season, Pepper (Dan Stevens), a struggling musician with financial troubles and a short temper, finds his anger getting the better of him. Pepper is sent to New Hyde Hospital, a questionable and seemingly forgotten mental health facility, for 72 hours. What begins as a perfunctory hold becomes something considerably more concerning.
The Terror intentionally keeps Pepper’s character at a bit of an arm’s length distance, and not much of him is seen before his admission at New Hyde. Nevertheless, there’s enough of Pepper provided to still get a solid sense of who he is and what matters to him before he’s swallowed whole. Pepper’s chivalrous instincts kick in, and he tries to liberate his fellow New Hyde peers as he gets to the bottom of what’s going on.
Meanwhile, The Terror plays with the idea of whether there’s actually a malevolent presence here that’s feeding off of the patients’ plight and pain, or if it’s just a symptom of this rampant abuse and mass delusion. This schism occasionally grows a little tired, but The Terror makes sure to always be moving forward.
Judith Light as Dorry – The Terror: Devil in Silver Season 1 – Photo Credit: Emily V. Aragones/AMC
Devil in Silver has a lot to say about fate and the idea of being “summoned” to serve a bigger purpose. Each season of The Terror has also explored unique cultural cryptids and urban legends. It finds the space for “duppies,” lingering ghosts or spirits – primarily from African and Caribbean folklore – that cause mischief before they move on. It’s a surprising piece of mythology that naturally fits Pepper’s predicament at New Hyde.
It should come as no surprise that the season excels with its raw depictions of paranoia, delusion, and appropriately enough, terror through creative, claustrophobic camerawork that reflects how trapped and powerless Pepper is in this sick experience. Devil in Silver is rich in inexplicable sights and sounds that are meant to get under the characters – and the audience’s – skin.
The horror and psychological thriller genres are used to extrapolate upon these subliminal terrors, but Devil in Silver preys upon the natural fears and insecurities of a psychiatric hospital so that these ideas are infinitely amplified. Some of the season’s strongest moments involve disturbing mental breaks that aren’t at all telegraphed. They’re inspired, intuitive sequences that never just feel like empty jump scares. You’re left to stew in the mental fallout.
The season is filled with genuinely haunting imagery that features what’s easily some of the most disturbing visuals from Karyn Kusama’s career, which is saying something. There are moments that play out like Kusama’s take on a Mike Flanagan project. Even the recurring visual of the hospital’s red guiding navigation line operates like a twisted Yellow Brick Road that leads to damnation.
Dan Stevens as Pepper – The Terror: Devil in Silver Season 1 – Photo Credit: Emily V. Aragones/AMC
As Pepper spends more time with New Hyde’s lifers, The Terror gets into the abject pain of loneliness, abandonment, and misunderstanding, either by people, society at large, or yourself. Pepper finds himself up against something that’s so impossibly bigger than a corrupt hospital staff. However, this season still gets endless mileage out of the sheer terror of being held somewhere against your will, experimented on, and being forced to change. It’s so deeply unsettling, especially in a modern context where this dehumanizing treatment is meant to be treated as a kindness, but is really just hierarchical bookkeeping by a sad, power-hungry staff. It’s no coincidence that Devil in Silver begins with a vicious tableau of pain in which bones are broken as an act of compassion and benevolence for the greater good.
Pepper remains Devil in Silver’s guiding light. However, it’s appreciated that this season makes space for other people’s perspectives and occasionally gets out of Pepper’s head, so it’s not purely filtered through his unreliable POV. These become welcome opportunities to demonstrate intent and highlight that these people aren’t necessarily evil, just burnt out and scared about losing their jobs, which in some ways is even worse. “We’re supposed to be helping people. You’re all just helping yourselves,” becomes a nihilistic accusation that echoes through New Hyde’s walls as the season continues.
The Terror’s ideas are gripping, but it sometimes gets a little too lost in the purgatory allegory that it repeatedly pushes. Pepper is trapped in a real hospital that also functions as a karmic purgatory of sorts as he confronts his past and discovers a grounding purpose to pull him through to the other side. The message remains moving, and Stevens’ performance never falters, even if it does sometimes get a little too lost in itself.
At the same time, Devil in Silver is also self-aware enough to criticize other mental health narratives that dabble in comparable territory like One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. The Terror is at least aware of any naval gazing that it may occasionally indulge in. It also doesn’t hurt that the supporting cast really brings these roles to life. Judith Light, in particular, gives an Emmy-caliber performance.
Hampton Fluker as Scotch Tape – The Terror: Devil in Silver Season 1 – Photo Credit: Emily V. Aragones/AMC
The Terror’s deconstruction of New Hyde also turns into a larger commentary on how this hospital is really just a microcosm for America. Everyone covers their ass and moves the problem somewhere else, while the true allies and enemies hide in plain sight. There’s a powerful, if not occasionally heavy-handed, message here that reinforces why this story isn’t just being told, but being told now, seven years after The Terror’s second season. The Terror argues that this story is bigger than New Hyde alone and that maybe America has experienced so many terrible and selfish acts because its people invited evil in.
At six episodes, The Terror: Devil in Silver is the perfect length before it starts to grow repetitive, spin its wheels, and run out of steam. The season does fall into a bit of a formula where problems continue to plague Pepper, even when they’re not his fault, which prompts a longer stay at New Hyde and a deeper descent into its suffocating maw. Fortunately, The Terror builds to a rewarding finish before it needs to start repeating itself.
There are a few convenient turns of fate in The Terror’s final episode. However, the audience is left with an overwhelming appreciation for the healing power of community, understanding, acceptance, and forgiveness, whether it’s for others or ourselves. The Terror: Devil in Silver beautifully articulates the melancholy tenet that everyone has their demons, but some are just more debilitating than others.
The Terror: Devil in Silver premieres May 7 on AMC+ and Shudder.
It’s a day of the month ending in Y, and that means it’s time for another killer shark film. Why? Because they’re inexpensive to make, play into an easy fear, and keep finding audiences willing to give them a spin. The Bay is the latest entry in the shark attack subgenre, and while it’s noticeably better than last month’s Chum, it still struggles to barely stay afloat.
Emma (Francesca Eastwood) and Lani (Dani Oliveros) are best friends who’ve traveled to Thailand for a destination wedding, and a chance encounter at the buffet table leads to an unexpected adventure. Mandal (Alexander Wraith) is a friendly, knowledgeable transplant who connects with nature and makes a living by offering boat tours through the area’s scenic waterways. The trips culminate with the opportunity for tourists to witness a shark feeding with local tiger sharks. The tourists aren’t meant to be the food, obviously, but sometimes accidents happen.
The Bay checks off most of the subgenre’s expected beats – an attractive location, an iffy ensemble of characters, a series of poor choices – but it does a few things differently along the way. For one thing, while we see plenty of sharks in the build-up, the first attack doesn’t happen until past the film’s midpoint. Writer/director Phil Volken fills the time leading up to that attack with engaging enough character beats, some genuine suspense, and an abundance of dialogue about how sharks aren’t typically a threat to people – or threats like people. “Sharks hunt,” says Mandal, “humans kill.”
It’s a bit of foreshadowing, perhaps, but it’s also the film’s presiding theme. Sharks don’t want to hurt or kill humans, but “mistakes happen.” Mandal offers up numerous eco-friendly spiels about the role sharks play in the environment, how overhunting could lead to disaster, and how humans are the ones invading their territory. “Don’t act like prey,” and you won’t be bitten, eaten, digested, and shat out by a shark. Pretty simple, if you think about it.
Trouble starts when they toss a chunk of meat into the water attached to a chain and a large female tiger shark gets caught up in it. Mandal’s sidekick, a local man named Ruhan (Ta’imua), panics and starts stabbing at the thrashing creature. He has a history of being bitten by a shark and is clearly frightened, and as the situation worsens, he becomes a far more active threat to the others’ safety than the actual sharks. That character type is pretty common in these films, but it’s a curious choice to make the film’s sole indigenous member of the ensemble the morally weak link.
To be clear, Ta’imua is playing a local but isn’t actually Thai. He is, however, Hawaiian, and The Bay was filmed off Oahu, meaning he’s the only indigenous representation on both counts. The other three characters, all Americans, are brave and willing to risk their own safety for the group, leaving only Ruhan to put a face to the cruel, selfish humans mentioned earlier in the film. It’s certainly a choice!
His performance is somewhat stifled by the desire to make him seem menacing, but it’s passable. The others are equally okay as performers, but it’s only Oliveros’ Dani who stands apart as a spirited individual worthy of viewer fist pumps. Cinematographer Helge Gerull delivers some attractive landscape shots destined to make you consider a Hawaiian vacation, and composer Gad Emile Zeitune finds some effective aural backdrops for the film’s teasingly emotional moments.
Then there’s the sharks. A major drag on the subgenre these days is the use of cheap CG effects (including the abysmal use of A.I. in Chum), but The Bay sidesteps that problem for the most part. There are real sharks here, lots of them, but they appear to be solely present via stock footage edited into the film. Some CG is used here and there, too, with shots being comped together to tighten the proximity between humans and sharks. Most effective, arguably, are the practical effects used to create fins cutting through the water near the characters.
There’s a sense of grounded reality to the shark kills, and while they’re less showy, they’re weightier as a result. Wounded bodies drift away, and the moment where shark nibbles turn into ferocious feasting feels more inevitable and affecting than sudden or scary. The sole exception to the general quality of those kills is the film’s final shark encounter, which doubles down on the poor choices by pairing a silly CG beat with some poorly matched stock footage.
Pretty much every shark attack movie lives or dies on its presentation of the sharks themselves. There are exceptions, of course, with Steven Spielberg’s Jaws being chief among them – everything about that film, from the writing and acting to the directing and editing, helps make it a masterpiece despite the mechanical shark looking goofy as hell outside of the water – but The Bay isn’t Jaws. It’s not even Jaws: The Revenge. Its live sharks are mildly effective, though, and give it a subdued realism that will likely appeal to viewers averse to CG intrusions. Will that be enough to win them over, though?
“When you enter the ocean, you enter the food chain… and not necessarily at the top,” says an opening onscreen quote from Jacques Cousteau, and something similar could be said for shark attack movies in general. When you make one of these movies, you enter a well-trodden and densely populated subgenre… and you’re all but guaranteed to not be at or even near the top. The Bay is closer to the ocean floor than the water’s surface, and while that still puts it above the bulk of the genre, it’s probably not enough of a reason to step foot in these waters.
The Bay opens in theaters and on demand on July 17, 2026.
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