Joseph

Perhaps the most frightening film I’ve ever seen, Pulse is truly horrific to its core. It relies purely on atmosphere, lingering moments where it hesitates to cut away, the absence of sound, or the sight of a black shadow standing silently in the corner of an empty room. Its presence is fierce, bleak, and unlike almost anything else within the horror genre. There’s no gore to speak of, nor are there traditional jump scares. Instead, the film completely envelops you in emptiness, loneliness, and dread, whether through its short, fragmented conversations or its deeply unsettling psychological imagery. What makes the film so effective is how restrained it is; the horror feels quiet yet overwhelming. I also found the film deeply metaphorical in its critique of emerging technology and the fear that it would ultimately damage society, leading to emotional and social collapse. The “ghosts,” who in many ways act as the film’s central figures, seem to offer an easier way out, Essentially nihilistic, selling the idea that sooner or later life becomes a cup filled to the brim, with nowhere left to go. They prey specifically on the lonely, isolated, and emotionally lost, which makes the film feel disturbingly human beneath its supernatural surface. The film doesn’t present technology as inherently evil, nor does it offer a direct narrative critique of it. Instead, its depiction feels more ambiguous; technology functions as a conduit or mirror for an existing human isolation, amplifying it and making it impossible to ignore rather than creating it outright. All in all, what works most for me here is its boldness in approaching real human emotions at the brink of what, at the time, was like a new wave of social and technological change, yet presenting them in the most unsettling and uncompromising way imaginable.

Definitely Lynch at his most romantic and almost sincere, presenting two deeply intimate characters living in their own fantasy world. Through every bump in the road, we see that reflected visually in the colours, dialogue, music, and more. It’s one of the many aspects of David Lynch’s work that makes him so compelling how he visualises, interprets, and internalises everything on such a rich, expressive scale that you genuinely feel it in abundance. Wild, heartbreaking, comedic, and dreamlike. Straightforward in structure, but fully alive with Lynch’s tonal extremes. Willem Dafoe delivers one of those performances that, despite limited screen time, firmly cements itself as unforgettable, which may I add isn’t the first time.

Really uncomfortable watch, but honestly one of the best experiences I’ve had in a cinema for a while. At most points in the film, I genuinely couldn’t tell whether to laugh or feel disgusted by what I was witnessing, and I think that’s where the movie’s magic lies ,it’s the engine behind its outlandish  approach.I loved the lighting throughout the film. In a lot of scenes, Nikki is completely blacked out within the frame, reduced to this eerie,dark entity lurking in the background, which ties in perfectly with the whole mood of the film.Im always seated for a American indie horror and this one really delivers.

Feels like every question you’ve wanted to ask yourself in the most awkward yet slightly repressed way. The awkwardness works in its favour and becomes slightly confrontational in its own right. Feels less like a coming-of-age film and more like a thick adolescent melodrama sitting on the fence about whether its characters are ready for the next stage.