heyflp
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In an era where videos of free solo climbers go viral and survival challenges rack up millions of views, "Fall" takes that obsession to the extreme. The movie traps two young women at the top of a 600-meter (2,000-foot) tower, with no way to call for help and dwindling resources, turning a realistic setup into an open-air claustrophobic nightmare. Director Scott Mann builds the story within the survival horror subgenre, which has given us films as intense as they are nerve-wracking, like "127 Hours," "Open Water," and "The Shallows." But unlike the best examples of this type of story, "Fall" struggles to maintain immersion and credibility, stumbling over narrative choices that undermine the emotional impact and believability of the situation.
The film kicks off with a prologue that sets up the tragedy shaping protagonist Becky (Grace Caroline Currey). During a climbing trip with her husband Dan (Mason Gooding) and her best friend Hunter (Virginia Gardner), she watches helplessly as Dan falls to his death. A year later, Becky is emotionally wrecked, drowning in grief and isolated from everyone, including her father (Jeffrey Dean Morgan, completely wasted in a role that seems to exist solely to justify a few phone calls). Hunter, now a social media influencer obsessed with adrenaline, suddenly reappears with a questionable idea: climb a massive abandoned transmission tower and scatter Dan's ashes from the top as a way to "face fear." The reasoning is flimsy, but the movie needs to get the characters up there somehow, relying on expositional dialogue and shallow emotional beats that weaken the drama's foundation.
If the first act is clunky and predictable, "Fall" finds its footing when it finally focuses on what it does best: the climb and its sheer vertigo-inducing intensity. The direction effectively captures the vastness of the desert and the dizzying height of the tower, making the danger and vulnerability of the characters feel tangible. The moment when the ladder collapses-kicking off the true survival portion of the story-is genuinely nerve-racking and marks the film's high point. Mann uses strategic angles and camera movements to amplify the fear of the void, with some shots so well-executed they provoke a real physical discomfort, especially for those afraid of heights.
Unfortunately, after that burst of pure tension, "Fall" starts to unravel. The script tries to inject emotional conflict between the characters, but the dramatic reveals feel artificial-forced in for shock value rather than genuinely enriching the story. Hunter, in particular, gets hit with a completely unnecessary twist that feels more like something out of a soap opera than an organic dynamic between two friends fighting to survive. The movie also throws in extra obstacles-like vultures circling above and desperate attempts to contact the outside world-but these challenges feel more like scripted conveniences than natural developments in the story.
Another issue is the lack of authenticity in how the survival scenario plays out. Survival films live or die by the internal logic of the dangers they present, but "Fall" leans way too much on contrivances and inconsistencies. The characters constantly make irrational decisions, and some of the solutions they come up with are so implausible that they completely deflate the tension. On top of that, there are moments where the CGI and digital effects are glaringly obvious, breaking the immersion in a movie that desperately needs a sense of realism to work.
Despite its weak script and questionable technical choices, "Fall" undeniably knows how to use its setting. The isolated tower, the endless sky, and the overwhelming sense of insignificance against the vast desert create a genuinely palpable sense of despair. The film aims to be a sensory experience, and in that regard, it does hold the audience's attention. But once you look past the visuals, it becomes clear that there isn't enough substance to elevate this premise beyond a flashy gimmick.
Overall, "Fall" delivers a few genuinely nerve-wracking moments but struggles to sustain its tension all the way through. It's the kind of movie that works best on a big screen, where the scale of the tower can really hit you, but beyond that, it doesn't leave a lasting impact. If the goal was to make the audience afraid of heights, mission somewhat accomplished. But when a survival thriller relies more on artificial plot twists than the real danger of its premise, the impact fades-and what should have been a visceral experience ends up feeling like just another forgettable thrill ride.
The film kicks off with a prologue that sets up the tragedy shaping protagonist Becky (Grace Caroline Currey). During a climbing trip with her husband Dan (Mason Gooding) and her best friend Hunter (Virginia Gardner), she watches helplessly as Dan falls to his death. A year later, Becky is emotionally wrecked, drowning in grief and isolated from everyone, including her father (Jeffrey Dean Morgan, completely wasted in a role that seems to exist solely to justify a few phone calls). Hunter, now a social media influencer obsessed with adrenaline, suddenly reappears with a questionable idea: climb a massive abandoned transmission tower and scatter Dan's ashes from the top as a way to "face fear." The reasoning is flimsy, but the movie needs to get the characters up there somehow, relying on expositional dialogue and shallow emotional beats that weaken the drama's foundation.
If the first act is clunky and predictable, "Fall" finds its footing when it finally focuses on what it does best: the climb and its sheer vertigo-inducing intensity. The direction effectively captures the vastness of the desert and the dizzying height of the tower, making the danger and vulnerability of the characters feel tangible. The moment when the ladder collapses-kicking off the true survival portion of the story-is genuinely nerve-racking and marks the film's high point. Mann uses strategic angles and camera movements to amplify the fear of the void, with some shots so well-executed they provoke a real physical discomfort, especially for those afraid of heights.
Unfortunately, after that burst of pure tension, "Fall" starts to unravel. The script tries to inject emotional conflict between the characters, but the dramatic reveals feel artificial-forced in for shock value rather than genuinely enriching the story. Hunter, in particular, gets hit with a completely unnecessary twist that feels more like something out of a soap opera than an organic dynamic between two friends fighting to survive. The movie also throws in extra obstacles-like vultures circling above and desperate attempts to contact the outside world-but these challenges feel more like scripted conveniences than natural developments in the story.
Another issue is the lack of authenticity in how the survival scenario plays out. Survival films live or die by the internal logic of the dangers they present, but "Fall" leans way too much on contrivances and inconsistencies. The characters constantly make irrational decisions, and some of the solutions they come up with are so implausible that they completely deflate the tension. On top of that, there are moments where the CGI and digital effects are glaringly obvious, breaking the immersion in a movie that desperately needs a sense of realism to work.
Despite its weak script and questionable technical choices, "Fall" undeniably knows how to use its setting. The isolated tower, the endless sky, and the overwhelming sense of insignificance against the vast desert create a genuinely palpable sense of despair. The film aims to be a sensory experience, and in that regard, it does hold the audience's attention. But once you look past the visuals, it becomes clear that there isn't enough substance to elevate this premise beyond a flashy gimmick.
Overall, "Fall" delivers a few genuinely nerve-wracking moments but struggles to sustain its tension all the way through. It's the kind of movie that works best on a big screen, where the scale of the tower can really hit you, but beyond that, it doesn't leave a lasting impact. If the goal was to make the audience afraid of heights, mission somewhat accomplished. But when a survival thriller relies more on artificial plot twists than the real danger of its premise, the impact fades-and what should have been a visceral experience ends up feeling like just another forgettable thrill ride.
"REC" is one of those rare horror films that not only nails its premise but redefines it. Even years after its release, it still holds up as an unsettling, surprising, and suffocating nightmare. Within the found footage subgenre, it stands out not just for mastering the aesthetic but for how it uses this format to amplify immersion and tension instead of just being an excuse for cheap jump scares. The sharp direction by Jaume Balagueró and Paco Plaza, combined with a script that understands the power of the unknown, cements "REC" as one of the most impactful horror films of the century.
The story unfolds through the lens of reporter Ángela Vidal (Manuela Velasco) and her cameraman Pablo (Pablo Rosso), who are following a team of firefighters on a night shift for a TV segment. The idea is to capture the daily routine of these professionals, but what starts as a slow news night quickly spirals into a full-blown nightmare when they respond to a call at a residential building. The moment they step inside, any sense of normalcy shatters, replaced by an unpredictable, claustrophobic nightmare.
What makes "REC" so effective is how its narrative is crafted with an unsettling sense of realism. The camera is never just an observer-it actively pulls us into the chaos. Casting Manuela Velasco, who was already a TV presenter in Spain, adds an extra layer of authenticity, and her performance is key to the film's immersion. At first, Ángela has the energy of an upbeat reporter excited about a routine assignment, but as things escalate, her shift from curiosity to unease to full-blown panic feels completely organic. Her performance drags us along with her, making us feel every moment of growing dread.
The film's structure is clever. The script introduces elements gradually, never rushing, building tension piece by piece. The first moments inside the building are filled with small but unsettling details: an elderly woman who seems disoriented, the worried expressions of the residents, distant noises that don't quite make sense. But when one of the police officers is suddenly and brutally attacked, "REC" shows its true colors-and from that moment on, there's no time to breathe. The events unfold in a relentless, escalating nightmare: the firefighter plummeting down the stairwell, bodies disappearing, paranoia spreading among the characters... everything is designed to keep the audience in a constant state of anxiety.
Another brilliant aspect is how the film handles its mythology. "REC" doesn't spoon-feed explanations but leaves enough gaps to fuel the mystery. At first, the building's quarantine seems like a standard health precaution, but as the story progresses, it becomes clear that something much bigger is at play. When the characters reach the penthouse and stumble upon evidence of a forbidden experiment, the horror takes on a whole new dimension. The revelation that the outbreak might have demonic origins adds an unexpected and deeply unsettling layer to the concept of an infection-making the threat feel even more hopeless.
On a technical level, "REC" is a masterclass in efficiency. The direction knows exactly when to use shaky cam to heighten urgency and when to stabilize the frame to let tension simmer. The sound design is flawless, using muffled noises, distant screams, and sudden silences to keep discomfort constantly lingering. Lighting (or the lack of it) is handled brilliantly, culminating in a final sequence that relies almost entirely on the camera's night vision mode. And that last act? Easily one of the most nerve-wracking moments in modern horror-few films capture the sheer terror of darkness and the unknown as perfectly as those final minutes of "REC."
What makes the film even more effective is its refusal to fall back on cheap horror clichés. There are no exaggerated characters or forced comic relief to break the tension. No manipulative soundtrack telling the audience how to feel-just raw, diegetic sounds that make everything feel disturbingly real. And, most importantly, there's no attempt to soften the blow with a comforting ending. The movie ends on a brutally cold note, offering no hope, no closure, just an unshakable feeling of dread. That decision makes the experience linger long after the credits roll.
At the end of the day, "REC" transcends its own subgenre. It's not just one of the best found footage films ever made-it's one of the best horror films, period. Its influence can still be seen in the countless imitators that followed, but very few have matched its mastery. It's a movie that doesn't just scare-it pulls you into its suffocating atmosphere and doesn't let go until the very last second. Whether it's your first or tenth time watching, the effect is always the same: tension, terror, and an eerie silence when the screen fades to black.
The story unfolds through the lens of reporter Ángela Vidal (Manuela Velasco) and her cameraman Pablo (Pablo Rosso), who are following a team of firefighters on a night shift for a TV segment. The idea is to capture the daily routine of these professionals, but what starts as a slow news night quickly spirals into a full-blown nightmare when they respond to a call at a residential building. The moment they step inside, any sense of normalcy shatters, replaced by an unpredictable, claustrophobic nightmare.
What makes "REC" so effective is how its narrative is crafted with an unsettling sense of realism. The camera is never just an observer-it actively pulls us into the chaos. Casting Manuela Velasco, who was already a TV presenter in Spain, adds an extra layer of authenticity, and her performance is key to the film's immersion. At first, Ángela has the energy of an upbeat reporter excited about a routine assignment, but as things escalate, her shift from curiosity to unease to full-blown panic feels completely organic. Her performance drags us along with her, making us feel every moment of growing dread.
The film's structure is clever. The script introduces elements gradually, never rushing, building tension piece by piece. The first moments inside the building are filled with small but unsettling details: an elderly woman who seems disoriented, the worried expressions of the residents, distant noises that don't quite make sense. But when one of the police officers is suddenly and brutally attacked, "REC" shows its true colors-and from that moment on, there's no time to breathe. The events unfold in a relentless, escalating nightmare: the firefighter plummeting down the stairwell, bodies disappearing, paranoia spreading among the characters... everything is designed to keep the audience in a constant state of anxiety.
Another brilliant aspect is how the film handles its mythology. "REC" doesn't spoon-feed explanations but leaves enough gaps to fuel the mystery. At first, the building's quarantine seems like a standard health precaution, but as the story progresses, it becomes clear that something much bigger is at play. When the characters reach the penthouse and stumble upon evidence of a forbidden experiment, the horror takes on a whole new dimension. The revelation that the outbreak might have demonic origins adds an unexpected and deeply unsettling layer to the concept of an infection-making the threat feel even more hopeless.
On a technical level, "REC" is a masterclass in efficiency. The direction knows exactly when to use shaky cam to heighten urgency and when to stabilize the frame to let tension simmer. The sound design is flawless, using muffled noises, distant screams, and sudden silences to keep discomfort constantly lingering. Lighting (or the lack of it) is handled brilliantly, culminating in a final sequence that relies almost entirely on the camera's night vision mode. And that last act? Easily one of the most nerve-wracking moments in modern horror-few films capture the sheer terror of darkness and the unknown as perfectly as those final minutes of "REC."
What makes the film even more effective is its refusal to fall back on cheap horror clichés. There are no exaggerated characters or forced comic relief to break the tension. No manipulative soundtrack telling the audience how to feel-just raw, diegetic sounds that make everything feel disturbingly real. And, most importantly, there's no attempt to soften the blow with a comforting ending. The movie ends on a brutally cold note, offering no hope, no closure, just an unshakable feeling of dread. That decision makes the experience linger long after the credits roll.
At the end of the day, "REC" transcends its own subgenre. It's not just one of the best found footage films ever made-it's one of the best horror films, period. Its influence can still be seen in the countless imitators that followed, but very few have matched its mastery. It's a movie that doesn't just scare-it pulls you into its suffocating atmosphere and doesn't let go until the very last second. Whether it's your first or tenth time watching, the effect is always the same: tension, terror, and an eerie silence when the screen fades to black.
Pure tension, ridiculous plot contrivances the show has been fully committed to since last season... Yep, it's another episode of "Prison Break"! On one side, we've got Michael moving another piece on the board for his grand escape, playing with Lechero's trust and setting the stage with surgical precision. On the other, we have a lineup of characters stuck in the same conflicts without making any real progress-especially Mahone, who's caught in an endless loop of death threats and withdrawal meltdowns. Lincoln handles Sara's death in the most questionable way possible, Bellick keeps being a useless snitch, and Sucre finally starts getting a more meaningful role. It's an episode that keeps the pace intense but also highlights how much this season is beating the same formulas into the ground.
The biggest highlight is Michael's plan to secure a new position in the prison and lay the groundwork for the escape. The way he uses the power outage as an excuse to get into the area between the gates is clever, and the execution of the plan brings back that calculating Michael "Prison Break" has always taken pride in. The moment where he gambles to win McGrady's necklace might seem small, but it turns out to be a key part of the bigger play-temporarily sabotaging the electricity to create the perfect pretext. This part of the script works because it respects Michael's intelligence and builds genuine suspense, especially when Lechero starts to get suspicious. The problem is that Lechero, who's supposed to be the big boss of the prison, is getting easier and easier to manipulate. He watches Michael playing him, gets warned about possible escape attempts, and still never takes any decisive action. The show wants him to seem like a threat, but at the same time, it needs him to be gullible enough to keep falling for the protagonist's tricks.
Now, the whole thing with Sara's death... This is the kind of decision that should carry massive emotional weight, but the show handles it in a weird way. The episode tries to go for shock value with the flashback of the head-in-the-box moment, and Lincoln's reaction makes sense considering everything he's been through. But there's something deeply artificial about how it all plays out. Michael still has no idea what really happened, and Lincoln decides to keep it from him like that's somehow the best course of action. But does that even make sense? Michael isn't some impulsive hothead. He's methodical, he always has a plan. The least Lincoln could do is tell him the truth and let him process it. Instead, the script forces a situation where Michael keeps believing he can still save Sara, which only makes the eventual revelation feel like cheap melodrama instead of a real tragedy.
Mahone is stuck in the same damn arc as always. This guy was once one of the most complex characters in "Prison Break," but now he's been reduced to a never-ending cycle of breakdowns and threats. The hallucination with Haywire could have been an interesting moment to explore his guilt, his trauma, his fractured mind. But instead, imaginary Haywire just shows up to drop some obvious lines and remind us of what we already know-Mahone doesn't trust Michael and wants to kill him. Shocking. And of course, by the end of the episode, he reinforces that in the most cliché way possible by threatening Michael yet again. This has completely lost its impact. Mahone, who used to be a worthy opponent, now feels like a broken record.
And then there's Bellick, who continues his run as the biggest snitch in the history of "Prison Break." This time, he tries to bargain for his survival by telling Lechero that Michael is up to something. But of course, he has no real proof, and his betrayal backfires painfully. The scene where Lechero tortures him by pouring boiling coffee on his back is brutal and finally gives some consequences to the fact that Bellick spends all his time trying to screw people over. But even then, it's hard to figure out what his real role in the story is at this point. He has no power, no relevance-he's just there to suffer. And suffer. And suffer. At this point, either the writers find something meaningful for him to do, or they should just cut him out of the show entirely.
Sucre is finally starting to get an actual storyline. Him being assigned as the new gravekeeper of the prison opens up a fresh angle for the escape, and the whole explanation about "Kesslivol" being a corrosive agent that could play into Michael's strategy is a smart touch. It's nice to see he's no longer just aimlessly moping over the selfish Maricruz, drinking tequila, and feeling sorry for himself. Sucre has always been a likable character, but he's been lost for the past few episodes. Now, at least, he has something solid to do.
T-Bag is still climbing his way to the top of the criminal food chain inside Sona. He sees the perfect opportunity and takes out Nieves without hesitation, securing his place in Lechero's power structure. The cold, calculated way he does it is a solid reminder that, no matter how much the show sometimes tries to soften him, T-Bag is still a monster. And unlike Mahone, who has lost all impact due to predictability, T-Bag still manages to be unpredictable. He adapts, plays both sides, and that's what keeps him consistently engaging.
The episode ends with another shocker: Susan killing the gravekeeper. This immediately throws a wrench into the escape plan and sets up Sucre's new role as something crucial going forward. The problem is that Susan, much like "The Company," is turning into a generic villain. She kills, tortures, and threatens, but she has no real depth. She's just doing what any high-level henchman would, without any layers that would make her memorable.
Overall, this episode is intense and keeps things engaging, but it also suffers from the same recurring issues of the season. Some characters are stuck in an endless loop of repetitive conflicts, while others are finally moving in more interesting directions. Michael's plan is still the core of what makes the story tick, but the feeling that the show is dragging things out is hard to ignore. Sara's death could have been a devastating moment, but the choice to keep it from Michael weakens the emotional impact. The escape is being carefully built up, but the real question remains: can "Prison Break" still deliver a payoff that makes all this waiting worth it?
The biggest highlight is Michael's plan to secure a new position in the prison and lay the groundwork for the escape. The way he uses the power outage as an excuse to get into the area between the gates is clever, and the execution of the plan brings back that calculating Michael "Prison Break" has always taken pride in. The moment where he gambles to win McGrady's necklace might seem small, but it turns out to be a key part of the bigger play-temporarily sabotaging the electricity to create the perfect pretext. This part of the script works because it respects Michael's intelligence and builds genuine suspense, especially when Lechero starts to get suspicious. The problem is that Lechero, who's supposed to be the big boss of the prison, is getting easier and easier to manipulate. He watches Michael playing him, gets warned about possible escape attempts, and still never takes any decisive action. The show wants him to seem like a threat, but at the same time, it needs him to be gullible enough to keep falling for the protagonist's tricks.
Now, the whole thing with Sara's death... This is the kind of decision that should carry massive emotional weight, but the show handles it in a weird way. The episode tries to go for shock value with the flashback of the head-in-the-box moment, and Lincoln's reaction makes sense considering everything he's been through. But there's something deeply artificial about how it all plays out. Michael still has no idea what really happened, and Lincoln decides to keep it from him like that's somehow the best course of action. But does that even make sense? Michael isn't some impulsive hothead. He's methodical, he always has a plan. The least Lincoln could do is tell him the truth and let him process it. Instead, the script forces a situation where Michael keeps believing he can still save Sara, which only makes the eventual revelation feel like cheap melodrama instead of a real tragedy.
Mahone is stuck in the same damn arc as always. This guy was once one of the most complex characters in "Prison Break," but now he's been reduced to a never-ending cycle of breakdowns and threats. The hallucination with Haywire could have been an interesting moment to explore his guilt, his trauma, his fractured mind. But instead, imaginary Haywire just shows up to drop some obvious lines and remind us of what we already know-Mahone doesn't trust Michael and wants to kill him. Shocking. And of course, by the end of the episode, he reinforces that in the most cliché way possible by threatening Michael yet again. This has completely lost its impact. Mahone, who used to be a worthy opponent, now feels like a broken record.
And then there's Bellick, who continues his run as the biggest snitch in the history of "Prison Break." This time, he tries to bargain for his survival by telling Lechero that Michael is up to something. But of course, he has no real proof, and his betrayal backfires painfully. The scene where Lechero tortures him by pouring boiling coffee on his back is brutal and finally gives some consequences to the fact that Bellick spends all his time trying to screw people over. But even then, it's hard to figure out what his real role in the story is at this point. He has no power, no relevance-he's just there to suffer. And suffer. And suffer. At this point, either the writers find something meaningful for him to do, or they should just cut him out of the show entirely.
Sucre is finally starting to get an actual storyline. Him being assigned as the new gravekeeper of the prison opens up a fresh angle for the escape, and the whole explanation about "Kesslivol" being a corrosive agent that could play into Michael's strategy is a smart touch. It's nice to see he's no longer just aimlessly moping over the selfish Maricruz, drinking tequila, and feeling sorry for himself. Sucre has always been a likable character, but he's been lost for the past few episodes. Now, at least, he has something solid to do.
T-Bag is still climbing his way to the top of the criminal food chain inside Sona. He sees the perfect opportunity and takes out Nieves without hesitation, securing his place in Lechero's power structure. The cold, calculated way he does it is a solid reminder that, no matter how much the show sometimes tries to soften him, T-Bag is still a monster. And unlike Mahone, who has lost all impact due to predictability, T-Bag still manages to be unpredictable. He adapts, plays both sides, and that's what keeps him consistently engaging.
The episode ends with another shocker: Susan killing the gravekeeper. This immediately throws a wrench into the escape plan and sets up Sucre's new role as something crucial going forward. The problem is that Susan, much like "The Company," is turning into a generic villain. She kills, tortures, and threatens, but she has no real depth. She's just doing what any high-level henchman would, without any layers that would make her memorable.
Overall, this episode is intense and keeps things engaging, but it also suffers from the same recurring issues of the season. Some characters are stuck in an endless loop of repetitive conflicts, while others are finally moving in more interesting directions. Michael's plan is still the core of what makes the story tick, but the feeling that the show is dragging things out is hard to ignore. Sara's death could have been a devastating moment, but the choice to keep it from Michael weakens the emotional impact. The escape is being carefully built up, but the real question remains: can "Prison Break" still deliver a payoff that makes all this waiting worth it?