Blue Heron, 2025.

Written and Directed by Sophy Romvari.
Starring Eylul Guven, Iringó Réti, Ádám Tompa, Edik Beddoes, Amy Zimmer, Liam Serg, Preston Drabble, Lucy Turnbull, and Jecca Beauchamp.

SYNOPSIS:

A family of six settles into their new home on Vancouver Island as internal dynamics are slowly revealed through the eyes of the youngest child.

At one point in writer/director Sophy Romvari’s meta-reflective and profoundly personal 1990s-set Blue Heron, young Sasha (Eylul Guven) asks her mother (credited as such and played by Iringó Réti) if her friends can come over and play outside (the film primarily takes place during a warm, breezy summer filled with swimming and bursting water balloons), only to be told that it’s not a good idea. It could be” embarrassing”, even, given that her older brother Jeremy (the eldest child, played by a truly unknowable and unsettling Edik Beddoes) has a behavioral disorder that is gradually becoming more erratic, unstable, volatile, and dangerous to himself and those around him. 

More than a film that convincingly portrays such a condition, and the lack of systemic resources and knowledge among psychologists and social services to properly help, Blue Heron approaches it from the narrative and cinematic perspective of a child eavesdropping on her parents (her father, played by Ádám Tompa mostly sticks to his computer-based work, avoiding what’s happening until that is no longer possible). Roughly halfway through, Sophy Romvari adds another layer, this time an experimental aspect in the present day that takes everything from the past and puts it under a new microscopic lens, juxtaposing those experiences and how Sasha feels as an adult (now played by Amy Zimmer), making films to reach a greater understanding of her brother and the rocky dynamic they had.

In some respects, it’s about a child’s first exposure to a disability or some type of condition destabilizing socially acceptable behavior, the frustrations that come with that from not only navigating it at such a young age, but during a time when adults also didn’t have much of an answer, later squared up against the fleeting happy memories, the reality of the situation, regret, and an adult perspective. At times, the film brilliantly and beautifully fuses the older perspective with the childhood memories and scenes, creating genuinely innovative emotional poignancy.

Much of this is elevated by striking cinematography (courtesy of Maya Bankovic) that is doing more than simply observing family interactions and dialogue through Sasha, but also sometimes utilizing tracking shots from an outdoor point of view following characters walking across the home, as if reappearing into something deeply personal on a narrative level and a similar sense regarding the filmmaker. The photography also makes use of reflections in numerous scenes, with the additional twist of characters sometimes reflecting back at one another, or of eerie ghosting that seemingly duplicates faces. Nearly everything about the filmmaking approach contributes to the reflexive nature of the story being told, a contemplation of whether something more or better could have been done to help Jeremy.

Then there is Jeremy (practically nonverbal, blonde-haired, sporting glasses, generally giving off quietly unhinged, emotionally distant vibes) who isn’t treated as a cheap caricature, but a real person who, at some point, changed (some family history is revealed providing fascinating context) and now teeters between serene moments of gentleness (most notably with Sasha at a beach) and outbursts that start off relatively harmless but blossom into full-blown threats of burning the house down (it’s also important to point out that the threat itself is kept offscreen, which is a smart decision so as not to exploit the behavior for misguided suspense; it’s not about whether or not he will follow through on any of this).

It should go without saying that these performances are nuanced, layered, and extraordinary across the board. However, it is that inventive second-half turn that elevates Blue Heron into a truly original work that takes the exploration of a condition and a child’s initial experiences around it, or how the entire situation alters and breaks apart the family dynamic into something far more profound regarding memory, sibling bonds, and systemic failings.

Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★ ★ ★

Robert Kojder

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=embed/playlist

Since I started DJing nearly a decade ago, it’s been a dream of mine to DJ at a music festival, a place where music lovers of all walks of life converge. So when I got the opportunity to spin at Coachella, the country’s festival of all festivals, I was over the moon.

This was my second time playing at Coachella with Party in My Living Room, a house party concert series founded by Inglewood native Yannick “Thurz” Koffi in 2015. The activation, designed to look like an actual living room with couches and artwork, was a collaboration with GV Black, a group promoting “Black, Indigenous, and People of Color (BIPOC) to be seen at the festival.” For the last four years, Koffi has been inviting DJs and musicians (Ty Dolla Sign, P-Lo, Kamaiyah and Isaiah Rashad, to name a few) to perform at the pop-up, which has quickly become a popular side quest for festivalgoers. So when Koffi asked me to be a part of the stacked lineup during Weekend 1, I was honored.

After preparing my set for weeks, the moment had finally come for me to spin on Sunday afternoon. I soaked up the entire weekend experience — from the celebrity-packed artist compound to the exclusive pop-ups (Redbull Mirage and the Soho House hideout) and the free dining. Here’s a peak behind the curtain from an artist’s perspective and what I learned about DJing at the festival.

Kailyn Hype played house, hip-hop, jersey club, baile funk and other genres during her high-energy DJ set at Coachella.

(Kayla Bartkowski / Los Angeles Times)

1. Spinning at a daytime desert festival is much different than at a bar

I was in charge of kicking off the activation on the final day of Coachella Weekend 1, which is an underrated job because it means that you get to set the tone for the day.

If I were spinning at a bar, club or flea market, I’d likely ease into my set with more chill songs before getting into bangers. But this was a festival and the crowd was ready to party, so I didn’t waste any of my 45-minute set. (My set was initially scheduled for one hour, but it was cut due to a sound check delay.) However, I left the big hip-hop tracks for the other DJs to play, which is a common DJ courtesy.

With songs like “Tonight” by Pink Pantheress, “Am I Wrong” by Anderson.Paak, “Brighter Days” by Cajmere, “Nissan Altima” by Doechii and several high-energy remixes that I found on Bandcamp, my set was everything I’d hoped for: fun, joyful and liberating. The crowd and I jumped up and down, threw up our hands, sang and danced together. And even if they didn’t know the words to a particular track, they were still open to all of it, which is one of the best feelings you can get as a DJ.

2. The artist wristband was my golden ticket — to a glorious buffet

With so many delicious food vendors like Villa’s Tacos, Prince Street Pizza, Happy Ice and El Moro, I knew that I was going to be eating good at Coachella. What I didn’t expect is for there to be free catering for folks with artist wristbands, like myself. After making my way through the artist compound, past the golf carts that transported performers and celebrities (I spotted Teyana Taylor and Damson Idris) and along a plant-filled pathway, I made it to the elaborate dining area. Inside the room, which was draped with colorful curtains with guitars attached to them, I felt like a kid at a buffet. There were poke bowls, a sandwich station, pizza, steak, ice cream sundae and even a “wrap station,” so you could take your food to go.

“Since I started DJing nearly a decade ago, it’s been a dream of mine to DJ at a music festival,” says Kailyn Brown.

(Kayla Bartkowski / Los Angeles Times)

3. But even if you have an artist wristband, long lines are inescapable

At any major event, be it a music festival or sports game, lines are to be expected. But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I expected the bathroom lines in the artist compound — an exclusive backstage area for artists and their crews — to be shorter. I quickly realized that the lines were unavoidable and if I really needed to go, it was usually faster to go to the porta-potties in the general admission or VIP areas.

4. I found respite at exclusive lounges

After running around the festival for hours, it was nice to be able to take a break from the heat in stylish, exclusive areas like the Red Bull Mirage and Soho House’s hideout.

Red Bull invited me to check out their three-story social hub and hospitality destination at Coachella, which included a Nobu omakase dinner on the top floor. Overlooking the Quasar stage, it offered the perfect spot to sip on the energy drink company’s signature cocktails (the Paloma was my favorite) and watch energetic DJ sets from artists like David Guetta, Fatboy Slim and Pawsa. It’s also where “Love Island USA” Season 7 favorite Olandria was serving Red bull mocktails — and looks — from behind the bar.

While Red Bull Mirage provided day club vibes, the energy at the Soho House hideout was a bit more laid-back. Located inside a luxurious air-conditioned tent near the main Coachella stage, invited guests and Soho House members with VIP passes could order from the bespoke bar, grab a bite (e.g., burgers, fries and maki rolls) and enjoy music from a live DJ.

Founded by Inglewood native Yannick “Thurz” Koffi in 2015, Party in My Living Room is a house party concert series.

(Kayla Bartkowski / Los Angeles Times)

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With an artist pass in tow, Kailyn Brown explored the artist lounge, dining hall and other exclusive areas at the music festival.

(Kayla Bartkowski / Los Angeles Times)

5. Music festivals can be a lot, but there’s a reason we keep coming back

After I was finished with my set, several people came up to thank me including one man, a Mexico-based artist named Memo Wright, who drew a live sketch of me spinning, which made my day. Even some of my Times colleagues took a break from reporting to stop by and say hello.

As I drove back home from the desert the following morning, I reflected on why I love music festivals so much and have been attending them since I was 16. Though events like Coachella get a bad rap for being expensive, crowded and uncomfortable (yes, it’s hot and dusty), this experience reminded me why people keep coming back — for the love of music and being able to commune with others who are just as obsessed with it as you are.

Vague Visages’ Undertone review contains minor spoilers. Ian Tuason’s 2025 movie features Nina Kiri, Adam DiMarco and Michèle Duquet. Check out the VV home page for more film criticism, movie reviews and film essays.

Sound design is paramount in horror. Without it, things that go bump in the night simply won’t. Creative sound design can make a great movie truly legendary. Consider Blair Witch (2016), whose unique and expertly constructed soundscapes took it from a throwaway requel to a nightmare-inducing must-watch. Undertone, the feature debut from Canadian writer-director Ian Tuason, is being marketed as “the scariest movie you’ll ever hear,” which is a gamble considering genre cinema is built on terrifying imagery. Although that pull-quote might put off snooty hardcore fans, it genuinely might be true.

Undertone’s action is confined to a single location — the dated childhood home in which Evy (Nina Kiri, phenomenal) watches her elderly mother (Michèle Duquet as Mama) slowly fade away in real time. While trying to keep the dying woman alive, the protagonist records a creepypasta-themed podcast with Justin (Adam DiMarco), who lives across the pond in London. Because of the time difference, the duo typically records at 3 a.m. aka “the witching hour.” Given their subject matter, it’s unsurprising that Justin, whom Evy snarks is a “Santa Claus believer,” frequently gets creeped out. His co-host, a proud skeptic, is much harder to shake.

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That all changes when Justin receives a mysterious email containing 10 audio clips of an expectant young couple going through some kind of demonic possession. Evy instantly dismisses it as a hoax, even as spooky things also start happening to her. But, as they listen to each one, it gradually becomes impossible to deny that something very strange is going on. Fortunately, the experience of listening to these 10 little snippets of a life being shared by two people who, like Justin, never appear onscreen, isn’t a slog. Demonic possession is a total cliché at this point, but Tuason puts a nasty twist on it by focusing on a particularly horrible ghoul who targets pregnant people and new mothers, with the intention of killing them and their babies (trigger warning for any parents planning to watch).

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As a result, Undertone never feels hokey or derivative. By focusing almost entirely on Evy, Tuason takes a massive risk. Indeed, for most of the movie, she’s the only character onscreen, with Mama, as she’s billed, unresponsive upstairs in bed. The first-time filmmaker consistently draws eyes to the dark, empty spaces behind Evy — particularly an empty doorway that feels like it’s encroaching upon her — as she records with Justin, the camera creeping around corners or simply hanging around back there, as though somebody is always watching. And yet, nothing happens when one expects it to, which only adds to the unnerving atmosphere and increasingly excruciating tension. Shots are frequently tilted at bizarre angles, which adds to the impression that everything is slightly off kilter.

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Likewise, Graham Beasley’s evocative cinematography utilizes a moody color palette comprised predominantly of greys and navy blues. Evy leaves the house just once, and the camera doesn’t go with her, so it’s hard to identify the season, but Undertone certainly feels like a wintry film. It helps that Mama’s house isn’t the most welcoming environment, as religious iconography fills every available spot, including a cross hanging on the dying character’s bedroom door and a variety of different statues that loom ominously behind the podcaster as she records. Evy repeatedly listens to an old voicemail from her mother, in which Mama intones “I’m praying for you.” At first, it seems like a sweet sentiment, but as the story progresses, the idea curdles into something closer to a threat.

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Tuason infuses Undertone with Catholic guilt, right down to a bottle of Irish whiskey that Evy — a possible alcoholic — pulls out of a liquor cabinet in a moment of desperation. The filmmaker’s suffocating feature debut adeptly tackles thorny themes of postpartum depression and guilt, and all while stoking a constricting feeling of loneliness for the protagonist. The atmosphere starts off chilly, and by Undertone’s closing moments, it’s downright ice-cold. The movie cleverly emulates the effect of wearing noise-cancelling headphones each time Evy puts hers on, which forces the audience to focus solely on what she hears. The soundscapes are truly exceptional: layered, considered and beautifully composed to capture every little crackle and hum, while repetitive recordings — seemingly full of hidden meanings — similarly encourage viewers to pay closer attention, which makes Undertone’s darkest moments hit even harder.

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Undertone is a slow burn, and there will be those who complain that nothing happens, but the scares are interlaced throughout the narrative, increasing in frequency and intensity as it goes on. Unlike Skinamarink (2022), which has little to offer hardcore horror fans, Tuason’s movie builds the tension deliberately, with an acute attention to detail that pays off the closer one looks and listens. The resonant sound design echoes Kiri’s skilled performance in the lead role, as she acts predominantly by herself, often wordlessly communicating Evy’s disbelief, fear and confusion as the character grapples with her horrifying predicament alongside handling her mother’s rapidly deteriorating condition (and a surprise pregnancy to boot). Tuason keeps the camera tight on her face, emphasizing the presumed safety of Evy’s headphones as she disappears into the world of the titular podcast, which usually gives the struggling young woman a break from her normal life.

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The great tragedy of Undertone is that poor Evy unwittingly invites something even worse into her mother’s home, which already feels haunted thanks to the almost-dead woman upstairs, as well as the wealth of troubled childhood memories seeping out of its walls. There’s a wonderful piquancy to the movie — Tuason takes his time ratcheting up the tension, but Undertone doesn’t let up once it gets going. Moments of respite are few and far between, with Evy’s growing isolation becoming increasingly obvious to the audience, if not to her. It’s tough to capture the idea of feeling unsafe in your own home, but Undertone manages to achieve this without any obvious jump scares or visual shocks. It’s all about sound, including during the movie’s stomach-churning final moments, which play out against a black screen, further solidifying the power of sound.

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Podcasters typically don’t fare well in horror movies, with the most infamous example being those hideous Brits in Halloween (2018) who get exactly what they deserve. However, Evy is an empathetic yet flawed character — kind of a mess doing her best. It’s notable that being a skeptic doesn’t necessarily protect her from evil forces, but Tuason also doesn’t punish his protagonist for refusing to believe. Instead, he leaves it up to the audience to decide whether Evy, and to a lesser extent Justin, is being targeted or just unlucky. Tuason’s feature directorial debut proves once and for all that less really is more when it comes to crafting scares that resonate far beyond the frame (listening to a podcast immediately after a watch is a disconcerting experience). Undertone is inspired, unnerving and truly a future classic.

Undertone released digitally on April 14, 2026.

Joey Keogh (@JoeyLDG) is a writer from Dublin, Ireland with an unhealthy appetite for horror movies and Judge Judy. In stark contrast with every other Irish person ever, she’s straight edge. Hello to Jason Isaacs. Thank you for reading film criticism, movie reviews and film reviews at Vague Visages.

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