The Poughkeepsie Tapes

I don’t even know how to explain my relationship with this film without sounding like a deranged academic or a retired FBI profiler reincarnated into a 4’11” Southeast Asian horror girl. I’ve watched this multiple times—yes, voluntarily. Not because I find it entertaining in the traditional sense, but because something about it grips my brain like a crime scene I keep revisiting for clues I’ll never find. This movie doesn’t need to scream. It whispers in your ear while you’re trying to sleep. It’s unsettling because it feels real, too real, like it wasn’t made for us to consume, but leaked from some restricted archive we shouldn’t have touched. I always say I like horror because it relaxes me—but this one? This doesn’t relax me. It awakens the part of me that’s disturbingly curious, the part that questions human nature, that wants to know the why behind evil even when there’s no satisfying answer.And yet—I keep coming back. Maybe because it reminds me that there’s darkness that exists without reason. And sometimes the scariest thing is how close we get to trying to understand it. Watch it if you want to feel cold inside. Watch it if you think you’re ready. Just… don’t ask why I’ve watched it more than twice. I’m asking myself the same thing. ( and yes I sleep with the lights off)