“Now Hiring: Security Guard for Cursed Building (Must Bring Own Antipsychotics)”
Some horror films scare you. Others creep up and disturb you. The Abandoned does both—and then politely invites you to question your own sanity while you’re at it.
Directed by Eytan Rockaway in his debut, this psychological horror flick is the cinematic equivalent of a slow nervous breakdown—claustrophobic, eerie, and just self-aware enough to know it’s insane. Think The Shining meets Girl, Interrupted, but with more mold, fewer ghosts, and a deeply unreliable narrator who makes you wonder whether the real haunted house is her brain.
It’s not flashy, it’s not gory, and it’s definitely not fun in the traditional sense. But if you’re into atmospheric madness and existential decay with a side of dark humor, congratulations—you’ve found your new favorite mental collapse.
The Plot: A House That’s Only Half as Empty as Its Tenants
Louisa Krause stars as Julia Streak, a down-on-her-luck single mom with a prescription dependency and the kind of past that makes therapists weep with job security. She takes a night shift as a security guard at a sprawling, abandoned apartment complex—a place that looks like the lovechild of The Overlook Hotel and a condemned DMV.
Her boss is Dixon Boothe (Ezra Knight), a man who looks like he’s one tragic backstory away from drinking paint thinner, and her only coworker is Dennis Cooper (Jason Patric), a paraplegic guard who chain-smokes like it’s his religion and treats Julia with the kind of warmth you reserve for telemarketers.
At first, Julia’s job is simple: stare at monitors, avoid eye contact with rats, and try not to think about the locked door labeled Room 441. Naturally, within ten minutes, she’s picking that lock with the enthusiasm of a child on Christmas morning. Inside, she finds not just a creepy corridor, but something far worse: child ghosts. And as any horror fan knows, child ghosts are like kale—no one actually likes them, but they keep showing up anyway.
The Scares: Haunted Real Estate and Inner Demons
What follows is a slow, unnerving descent into paranoia, guilt, and supernatural weirdness. Julia starts hearing whispers, seeing strange figures, and unlocking trauma like she’s speedrunning therapy. There’s a homeless man named Jim (Mark Margolis, bless him, still doing unhinged side characters like a pro) who wanders in at the wrong time, and there’s a mysterious video linking the building to a place called Wellville, an old home for “special children.” (Spoiler: “special” means “horrifically abused.”)
Then things really start falling apart—literally and mentally. Jason Patric’s Dennis is haunted (or maybe just constipated) by his own demons, the ghosts get bolder, and Julia’s grip on reality dissolves faster than her medication.
The best part? You never quite know if what you’re seeing is real. Is this a haunted building or a brain unraveling under fluorescent lighting? Are there ghosts, or is Julia’s subconscious throwing a rager? By the third act, you’re not watching The Abandoned—you’re trapped inside it, clawing for answers right alongside her.
Louisa Krause: Patron Saint of Emotional Collapse
Let’s talk about Louisa Krause. If there were an Oscar for “most believable depiction of someone slowly losing her grip on reality while wearing a security uniform,” she’d win it in a landslide. Krause’s Julia is fragile, fierce, and frighteningly human.
She doesn’t scream her way through the movie—she unravels through it. Every twitch, every whispered prayer, every thousand-yard stare feels painfully real. You can practically smell the desperation. By the time she’s weeping in front of deformed ghost children, you’re not even scared—you’re exhausted for her.
And Jason Patric? He’s perfect as the crusty old security guard with a chip on his shoulder the size of the building itself. He oozes sarcasm and bitterness, the kind of guy who could insult you while simultaneously saving your life and make you thank him for it. His chemistry with Krause is awkward, tense, and fascinating—like watching two burned-out souls realize they’re just different flavors of broken.
The Building: A Character in Itself (and a Terrible Place to Airbnb)
The titular abandoned complex is one of the film’s strongest elements. It’s not just a set—it’s a living, breathing metaphor for Julia’s decaying psyche. Every hallway feels infinite, every flickering lightbulb feels like a panic attack waiting to happen.
Rockaway’s camera lingers on cracked walls, dripping pipes, and silent, empty rooms until you start to feel the weight of the space pressing down on you. It’s oppressive in the best way possible—like you’re being buried alive under dust and despair.
If haunted buildings had Yelp reviews, this one would read:
⭐☆☆☆☆
“Terrible Wi-Fi, ghosts won’t stop whispering, woke up in a psychotic break.”
The Twist: Mommy Dearest, But Make It Schizophrenic
By the time The Abandoned reaches its final act, we’ve gone full psychological horror. Julia discovers that the terrifying orphan children haunting her aren’t strangers—they’re echoes of herself. The real kicker? None of this is happening in the physical world. Julia’s been in a coma since childhood, trapped in her own mind.
Dennis wasn’t her coworker—he was her father. Jim wasn’t a vagrant—he was another patient. Clara, the daughter she keeps talking about, is her doll. Basically, the entire film was one big Freudian field trip.
It’s a reveal that manages to be both devastating and darkly funny. All that ghost-chasing, all that madness, and it turns out Julia’s worst enemy was… herself. Literally. It’s like Fight Club if Tyler Durden were a deformed orphan haunting your subconscious.
The Mood: Depression, Desperation, and Dark Humor
You might not think a movie this grim could be funny—but The Abandoned has a wicked streak of dark humor running through its veins. It’s not laugh-out-loud funny, but it’s the kind of grim irony that makes you chuckle in spite of yourself.
Julia’s whole journey—accepting a terrible job, defying all warnings, and unlocking literal ghosts—is basically the horror version of every minimum wage job ever. Her desperate need for control in a world that constantly gaslights her is both relatable and absurd. The movie whispers, “We’ve all been Julia—just with less blood.”
Even Jason Patric’s character brings sardonic relief, tossing one-liners like grenades. He’s the kind of man who’s seen too much, smoked too much, and probably hasn’t believed in God since the Reagan administration.
The Style: Moody Madness Done Right
Rockaway’s direction is remarkably assured for a debut. He keeps the tension simmering like a pot that’s about to boil over. The pacing is slow, but deliberately so—it traps you, lets you stew in dread, and just when you think nothing’s happening, something horrifying twitches in the corner.
The color palette is muted, the lighting harsh and sterile, evoking that lovely “institutional decay” aesthetic we all crave from our nightmares. Every shot looks like it could double as an album cover for a band called Existential Collapse.
Final Thoughts: A Ghost Story for the Mentally Unstable
The Abandoned isn’t your typical haunted house movie—it’s a haunted mind movie. It’s about trauma, guilt, and the terrifying things we do to protect ourselves from our own memories. It’s equal parts sad, scary, and absurdly human.
Is it perfect? No. The pacing sometimes drags, the dialogue occasionally limps, and the ending leaves you somewhere between heartbroken and deeply confused. But that’s the point. It’s not a movie about clarity—it’s about the chaos of living with yourself.
Final Verdict
★★★★☆ — Four Ghostly Room Keys Out of Five
The Abandoned is an atmospheric descent into madness that somehow manages to be both terrifying and darkly funny. It’s the rare horror film that leaves you unsettled, introspective, and vaguely worried about your next night shift.
So if you’re ever tempted to take a job guarding an abandoned building for minimum wage—don’t. Unless, of course, you enjoy ghost children, mental breakdowns, and the occasional existential crisis.
After all, as The Abandoned reminds us: sometimes the scariest place in the world is the one between your own ears.
