A Farewell to Brittany Murphy — and to Cohesive Storytelling
There’s a kind of sadness in reviewing Something Wicked that goes beyond its ineptitude. It was the final film appearance of Brittany Murphy before her untimely death, and one can’t help but wish her swan song had been in, well, anything else. Because while the title promises something wicked, what you actually get is something lukewarm, confusing, and—at times—wickedly dull.
Directed by Darin Scott, this 2014 psychological “thriller” (a word I use with maximum generosity) tries to combine grief, obsession, and supernatural overtones into a haunting meditation on trauma. Instead, it feels like a Lifetime movie that accidentally wandered onto a horror shelf, realized it didn’t belong there, and died of embarrassment halfway through.
Let’s dive in. Bring snacks. You’ll need something to stay awake.
The Plot: A Tragedy, a Wedding, and a Whole Lot of Nothing
We open with Christine (Shantel VanSanten), a wholesome young woman living her best Pacific Northwest life—college-bound, engaged to James (John Robinson), and clearly blessed with the kind of skin that only exists in soap commercials. Things take a dark turn when a horrific car crash kills both of her parents, which, naturally, sends her spiraling into grief and paranoia.
From there, Something Wicked decides to play a game of “Guess the Genre.” Is it a ghost story? A slasher? A psychological breakdown? A lost Dawson’s Creek episode with mood lighting? The film never quite makes up its mind.
Christine begins seeing things—or possibly people—stalking her. Her psychiatrist, Susan (Brittany Murphy), suspects PTSD. Her fiancé just wants to get through the wedding without any more car accidents. And the audience? We’re just praying for something—anything—to actually happen.
As the movie meanders toward its climax (if you can call it that), dark family secrets are hinted at, then forgotten, then hinted at again like the director kept losing pages of the script. By the end, Christine’s unraveling feels less like psychological horror and more like she’s just been trapped in a very long, poorly lit commercial for Zoloft.
Characters: Paper Dolls in a Storm
Shantel VanSanten is actually a talented actress (The Boys, For All Mankind), but here she’s stuck playing a character so bland she could be replaced by a store mannequin with “anxiety” written on a sticky note. Her Christine spends the film looking confused, whispering “What’s happening to me?” and occasionally running through dark hallways that all look the same.
John Robinson, as her fiancé James, gives off the charisma of unbuttered toast. His emotional range goes from “mildly concerned” to “slightly more concerned,” and I spent most of the movie wondering if he’d wandered in from an REI catalog shoot.
Julian Morris, as Ryan (the suspiciously close family friend), appears just long enough to deliver a few cryptic lines and look like the guy who’s definitely hiding something—but the film forgets to tell us what.
And then there’s Brittany Murphy, the only real spark in this beige bonfire. Even in this mess, she brings a haunting energy to her role as psychiatrist Susan Webb (no relation to Christine—unless you count both being trapped in the same cinematic disaster). Her scenes have flashes of life, though the editing and writing undermine her every effort. Watching her here feels bittersweet—like catching the last glow of a dying candle before it sputters out.
If this was meant to be a showcase for her talent, Hollywood failed her one last time.
Direction and Cinematography: Moody, Murky, and Mostly Confused
Darin Scott directs the film as if he’s afraid of clarity. Every scene is bathed in soft blue-gray lighting, making Oregon look like it’s permanently stuck inside an Instagram filter called “Depression.” The camera work is shaky but not in a stylish way—more like the cinematographer was running late and filmed everything while sprinting.
Scott tries for atmosphere, but what we get instead is vibe limbo—too flat to be tense, too awkward to be eerie. The pacing is glacial, the editing disjointed, and the sound design occasionally suggests that someone left a fan running in the background during key emotional moments.
Even the jump scares (all two of them) arrive late, like they took a wrong turn on the way to a better movie.
Writing: Plot Twists by Mad Libs
The script, co-written by Scott and Chris Dowling, feels like it was assembled by a team of fortune cookies. There are long, empty conversations that go nowhere (“You have to let go, Christine.” “But what if letting go… means losing everything?”). There are flashbacks that contradict each other. There’s even a random subplot involving surveillance footage that seems to promise a revelation—but leads absolutely nowhere.
By the third act, the big “twist” arrives, and it’s less shocking than mildly inconvenient. (Spoiler: someone may or may not be gaslighting Christine for reasons so undercooked they could give you salmonella.) The movie wants to be Gone Girl meets The Sixth Sense, but it ends up as The Seventh Snooze.
Tone: Lifetime Thriller by Way of a NyQuil Commercial
Something Wicked doesn’t know what kind of horror movie it wants to be. Is it supernatural? Psychological? A morality play about grief? At times it feels like the filmmakers were just checking boxes:
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Creepy stalker shots ✅
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Mysterious noises at night ✅
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Therapist writing ominous notes ✅
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Gratuitous shower scene ✅
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Everyone looking slightly damp ✅
There’s a half-hearted attempt at sensual tension—Christine’s fiancé might be cheating, her psychiatrist might be jealous, and someone might be manipulating her—but none of it lands. Instead, the film just sort of… exists. Like a fever dream you forget five minutes after waking up.
The scariest part of Something Wicked isn’t the ghost, or the trauma, or even the stalker. It’s realizing you still have 40 minutes left and you’ve lost the will to fast-forward.
Dark Humor Corner: “Something Mildly Inconvenient”
There’s unintentional comedy everywhere. Like the car crash scene, which is edited with all the emotional subtlety of a Mentos commercial. Or the multiple scenes where Christine insists she’s being watched, only for the camera to cut to an empty room. It’s like the film is mocking her—and us—for expecting suspense.
There’s even a love scene that’s so awkwardly lit and edited it feels like it was directed by a confused tax auditor. And the constant therapy sessions, which should reveal deep psychological trauma, instead feel like outtakes from a low-budget antidepressant ad.
At one point, someone says, “Something wicked this way comes.” Reader, I laughed out loud. The movie really said its own title, as if trying to remind itself it was supposed to be scary.
The Legacy: A Footnote Wrapped in Fog
As a film, Something Wicked is a whisper that never quite becomes a scream. It wants to explore grief, love, and madness, but it’s trapped inside its own confusion. It’s not thrilling enough to be horror, not smart enough to be psychological, and not bad enough to be fun.
But as Brittany Murphy’s last performance, it’s poignant in its sadness. She gives the movie more than it deserves, a reminder of the spark she brought to every role—even when surrounded by mediocrity. Watching her here feels like witnessing a ghost story that’s all too real.
Final Verdict
⭐️½ out of 5.
Something Wicked promises terror but delivers tedium—a film so unsure of itself it should’ve been called Something Awkward. Its scares are soft, its story disjointed, and its pacing funereal. The only wicked thing about it is how it wastes its cast—and your time.
If you’re looking for a psychological thriller that’ll haunt you, try Black Swan. If you want a Brittany Murphy classic, revisit Clueless or Girl, Interrupted. But if you want to experience pure cinematic limbo, where tension goes to die and plot points go missing, this one’s your ride to hell.
Just don’t forget to bring a flashlight. You’ll need it to find the point.
