Welcome to the Building of Bad Ideas
There are movies about haunted houses, demonic hotels, and cursed cabins. The 4th Floor decided to buck tradition and give us… an apartment building where the scariest thing is Juliette Lewis arguing with her landlord. Written and directed by Josh Klausner (his directorial debut, emphasis on debut), this straight-to-video thriller makes you long for the subtle terror of a clogged garbage disposal.
It’s a movie that wants to be Hitchcock but ends up more like a Lifetime special titled When Tenants Attack.
Juliette Lewis: Girl Meets Brownstone, Brownstone Wins
Juliette Lewis plays Jane, a woman who inherits a rent-controlled brownstone from her aunt. Instead of selling it for a fortune and moving to a city where rats aren’t considered part of the décor, Jane decides to move in. Her boyfriend Greg (William Hurt, apparently being paid in sandwiches) begs her not to. But Jane insists, because independence, feminism, and most importantly, because the script said so.
Jane spends most of the movie stumbling into increasingly obvious traps: grease on the stairs, maggots in the tub, and rodents funneled into her apartment like an unholy Chuck E. Cheese. By the third act, you’re not rooting for Jane—you’re rooting for the building inspector to shut this place down.
The Supporting Cast: Familiar Faces in Unfamiliar Misery
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William Hurt as Greg: Hurt’s job is to mansplain Jane’s fear away until he suddenly remembers he’s in a thriller and shows up for the finale. He delivers his lines with the enthusiasm of a man stuck in traffic.
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Shelley Duvall as Martha Stewart (not that Martha Stewart): She’s the eccentric neighbor who at first seems helpful but quickly turns into the “mind your own business” brigade. Mostly, she looks like she wandered in from another film and decided to stay for the craft services table.
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Austin Pendleton as Mr. Collins: Sweet old man next door—or so it seems. Spoiler: he’s the psycho. Less spoiler: you figured that out 45 minutes earlier.
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Tobin Bell (yes, Jigsaw himself) as The Locksmith: Creepy, enigmatic, and apparently clairvoyant when it comes to lock tampering. The movie hints he’s sinister, then pulls the “maybe he’s a hero” card, then ends with, “Surprise, he’s creepy again.” Consistency is for people with functioning scripts.
The Villain Reveal: Portcullis, Schmortcullis
For an hour and a half, Jane is harassed by cryptic notes, dead rodents, and sabotage that would make Home Alone’s Wet Bandits blush. She believes it’s the mysterious hermit on the 4th floor. Except—plot twist—it’s actually Mr. Collins, the kindly old neighbor who’s been “helping” her all along.
This revelation lands with all the impact of a wet sponge, because Pendleton plays creepy so hard it’s like the director told him, “Give me Santa Claus, but make him homicidal.” By the time Jane sees “Portcullis” scrawled on his ceiling, the audience has already written “Obviously him” in their mental notes.
Death by Packing Peanuts
Yes, you read that correctly. The movie’s pièce de résistance is a room filled with packing noodles—an avalanche of Styrofoam meant to be terrifying. Nothing says horror like tripping over UPS leftovers. Jane flails around in it as if she’s drowning in plastic snow, and the tension collapses faster than Mr. Collins tumbling down the stairwell in the climax.
Speaking of which, his death scene—falling five flights—is unintentionally hilarious. The scream is prolonged, the tumble cartoonish. You half expect a Wilhelm scream to cap it off.
Rodents, Maggots, and Other Discount Effects
The “horror” here consists mostly of household infestations. Jane’s bathtub fills with maggots. Mice pour through holes in her floor. Rats scurry in cages. It’s like the production blew its budget at Petco. The exterminator (Robert Costanzo) even stops by to confirm that, yes, someone is deliberately funnelling vermin into her apartment. Thank you, Captain Obvious.
Instead of chills, these sequences inspire gag reflexes and mild annoyance. It’s less Hitchcock, more Fear Factor.
William Hurt: Phoning It in from the First Floor
Poor William Hurt. An Oscar-winning actor reduced to being the skeptical boyfriend who alternates between gaslighting Jane and showing up in the nick of time. His performance is so checked out you wonder if his character is secretly doped up. When he finally confronts Mr. Collins, his delivery of “Hand over the knife” has all the urgency of someone ordering takeout.
The Ending: Locksmith Ex Machina
After Jane defeats Mr. Collins (sort of), the final twist reveals that Tobin Bell’s locksmith has been spying on everyone and sketching creepy drawings. One of them shows Greg and Mr. Collins plotting together. Ooooh. Except it’s delivered so halfheartedly, you just shrug. Is Greg involved? Is the locksmith the real villain? Or did the screenwriter just forget to tie up loose ends? The answer is: nobody cares.
Direction: Hitchcock by Way of IKEA Assembly Manual
Josh Klausner wanted his directorial debut to echo Hitchcock. What he delivered instead is Hitchcock-lite: ominous notes, stairwell suspense, a blonde protagonist in peril. But instead of building dread, the movie builds frustration. Every setup is dragged out too long, every scare is telegraphed, and every twist is so obvious it should’ve come with neon signage.
The pacing is glacial. By the time Jane finally pieces things together, you’ve checked your watch, your phone, and maybe your lease agreement to make sure you don’t live in a horror-movie building.
Soundtrack: Brian Tyler’s Forgettable First Draft
Brian Tyler’s score tries to inject tension with dramatic strings and ominous chords. Unfortunately, it’s the musical equivalent of reheated leftovers—generic, bland, and barely noticeable. You could swap it out with stock “thriller music” from a royalty-free site and nobody would notice.
Why This Doesn’t Work: Suspense Requires Surprise
Good thrillers thrive on the unknown. Here, the “mystery” is obvious, the scares are cheap, and the heroine is frustratingly passive until the final act. Instead of fearing for Jane, you’re yelling at her: “Sell the apartment, move out, call the cops, do literally anything other than stay here.” The fact that she doesn’t makes the horror less believable and more like a parody of bad decision-making.
Final Eviction Notice
The 4th Floor is a cautionary tale—not about creepy neighbors, but about how not to make a thriller. It wastes a talented cast (Lewis, Hurt, Duvall, Pendleton, Bell), squanders its Hitchcockian aspirations, and delivers a climax involving packing peanuts. The only real horror here is how much potential was flushed down the maggot-infested drain.
Verdict: If you want real terror, try living in an actual rent-controlled apartment in New York City. At least then the rats and bad neighbors are believable. This movie? Throw it out with the packing noodles.
