Ah, Walled In. A Canadian-French horror-thriller that promises architecture, murder, and Mischa Barton trying very hard not to look like she regrets saying yes to this script. Based on Serge Brussolo’s novel Les Emmurés, this little indie manages to combine claustrophobia, family trauma, and a coming-of-age tale about how sometimes your first real job will literally try to kill you.
And you know what? Against all odds—it kind of works. In fact, it works so well that I’m ready to pour the concrete and enshrine this film in the pantheon of horror gems. Not because it’s flawless (it’s not), but because it manages to be creepy, tense, and darkly funny in that “I can’t believe I’m watching Mischa Barton get terrorized by drywall” sort of way.
Cement: The Real Villain of the Film
The movie opens with a scene that sets the tone: a little girl, Julie, is walled into a tiny room while cement pours in like she’s part of the world’s least fun HGTV renovation show. This isn’t a horror-movie metaphor—it’s the actual murder weapon. Cement. That sticky, gray, home-improvement nightmare that makes you think twice about ever remodeling your basement.
From the jump, Walled In establishes a brilliant idea: the walls themselves are the monster. Forget zombies, ghosts, or masked slashers—this movie wants you to be afraid of architecture. And let me tell you, as someone who already breaks into a cold sweat when I see contractor invoices, it worked.
Mischa Barton, Final Girl by Way of Real Estate
Enter Samantha “Sam” Walczak (Mischa Barton), a freshly minted engineer whose graduation gift from Dad isn’t a trip to Europe, or even a spa voucher—it’s a demolition job. Because nothing says “I love you, kiddo” like handing your daughter the keys to a crumbling building full of bad vibes and cement-based PTSD.
Sam rolls up to the infamous Malestrazza Building, where 16 people were bricked into the walls decades ago by a sadistic architect with a flair for human sacrifice. (Frank Lloyd Wright, eat your heart out.) She’s supposed to supervise its demolition, but the longer she stays, the more the building reveals its ugly secrets.
Barton deserves credit here: she sells the part. She’s not your typical horror scream-queen—she’s quiet, curious, and practical, which makes her descent into cement-coated hell all the more engaging.
Creepy Teens and Creepy Moms
At the Malestrazza Building, Sam meets Mary (Deborah Kara Unger), the icy caretaker who practically has “REDACTED” stamped across her forehead, and Mary’s teenage son, Jimmy (Cameron Bright), who has the charisma of a tax audit and the sexual energy of Norman Bates. Jimmy starts out shy and weird, then rapidly escalates into “builds you a shrine out of Legos and human teeth” levels of creepy.
Their relationship is the twisted core of the movie. Jimmy doesn’t just have a crush—he wants to literally trap Sam in his world. And when he finally lowers her into a cement pit to keep her “safe” forever, it’s less “Romeo and Juliet” and more “Home Depot and Stockholm Syndrome.”
Meanwhile, Unger as Mary is giving off Stepford Gothic vibes, playing a woman so controlled and sinister that you half-expect her to serve tea brewed from asbestos.
Malestrazza, Patron Saint of Terrible Contractors
And then there’s Joseph Malestrazza, the building’s architect, revealed to be still alive in the bowels of his concrete temple. His philosophy? All great structures require blood sacrifice to endure. He’s like if Frank Gehry and Aleister Crowley had a lovechild and left him in charge of a cement mixer.
He brags that the Pyramids of Giza still stand because they were built on corpses. He calls his 27 buildings “masterpieces,” as if entombing people in your drywall is just another design flourish, like crown molding. The man is a ghoul and a genius, and Pascal Greggory plays him with the kind of unsettling gravitas that makes you nod along even as you wonder if you should report him to OSHA.
Atmosphere: Bleak, Brutal, and Beautiful
Let’s be honest: this isn’t a glossy Hollywood horror flick. It’s Canadian. Which means you get a lot of moody lighting, grimy sets, and a slow-burn tension that feels more European art film than popcorn slasher. Every corridor looks like it was designed by Kafka’s interior decorator.
The cinematography leans into claustrophobia: narrow hallways, looming shadows, walls closing in. The Malestrazza Building feels alive, not in a Monster House way, but in a “you will never escape me” kind of way. It’s oppressive, and it works.
Why It’s Weirdly Funny
This is supposed to be a horror-thriller, but the absurdity of the premise lends itself to dark humor. A building that murders people by cement entombment? That’s so over-the-top it becomes genius. It’s like watching HGTV’s Fixer Upper if Chip and Joanna decided to build their dream kitchen using actual human sacrifice.
Even Jimmy’s jealous spying—literally peeping through the walls at Sam—has a morbid hilarity. It’s like Rear Windowdirected by a hormone-ravaged teenager with access to blueprints.
And don’t even get me started on Sam’s “final girl” weapon of choice: engineering logic. When she tries to MacGyver an escape using medicine capsules and the garbage chute, you can’t help but chuckle at the sheer nerdiness of it. Forget chainsaws—this heroine fights evil with chemistry and demolition theory.
The Ending: A Cemented Legacy
The climax is grim and oddly poetic. Malestrazza accepts death as his final sacrifice, Jimmy spirals into tragedy, and Sam narrowly escapes as the building is about to be demolished. But the kicker? The building isn’t destroyed. Her father cancels the demolition, meaning Malestrazza’s nightmare masterpiece still looms on the horizon, filled with ghosts, blood, and questionable building codes.
It’s both satisfying and unsettling. Evil isn’t defeated—it’s just rezoned.
Why It Works
So why does Walled In succeed where so many direct-to-DVD horror films crumble like cheap plaster?
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Original Premise: A building that kills you with walls? That’s fresh. It’s not a remake, not a knockoff—it’s something legitimately weird.
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Atmosphere: Bleak visuals and suffocating tension make you feel trapped right alongside the characters.
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Performances: Mischa Barton anchors the film with quiet determination, Deborah Kara Unger oozes menace, and Pascal Greggory sells Malestrazza’s madness.
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Dark Humor: The sheer ridiculousness of cement-as-murder-weapon gives the whole thing a macabre wit.
Final Verdict
Walled In isn’t perfect. The pacing can drag, the dialogue occasionally clunks like a dropped cinder block, and Cameron Bright’s Jimmy sometimes feels less “terrifying” and more “emo kid with a Hot Topic discount card.” But the film’s originality, atmosphere, and weird commitment to its concept make it worth watching.
It’s creepy, it’s absurd, and it’s oddly funny—like being locked in a haunted IKEA showroom where every piece of furniture demands a blood sacrifice.
