Luz

The movie knows what it's doing, whatever it's doing.

If Luz had been a play, I'd probably have walked out halfway through, but as a film I found it eerie enough to stay rooted.

It'll render you unexpectedly rattled.

A major announcement of a new talent.

"Luz" is, as a whole, visually numbing and mentally taxing.

Less-is-more philosophy is crucial to the film's effectiveness. Instead of letting his lack of resources be a liability, Singer leans into the benefits of minimalism.

From the first frame, I clearly see that it is a dark, experimental, multi-layered exercise in style, set up as a tribute to European horror cinema of the 1980s. [Full review in Spanish]

Luz unfolds in a nightmare logic and pace, deliberate and methodical, never moving as expected. It feels unmoored, adrift in a singular world.

Luz is weird. No doubt about it. It bounces around the narrative like Tarantino through a Carpenter filter. But it truly is a masterpiece of minimalistic gonzo horror. TIlman Singer is on a high wire of tension and watch out, it's electric.

Though it feels somewhat under-developed at times, Luz is a small-scale story that still manages to deliver tension, shocking moments and memorable horror imagery.