Anya Taylor-Joy, Cillian Murphy, and Vera Farmiga walk into a Victorian nightmare—and none of them walk out unchanged.

Taylor-Joy plays Dr. Eleanor Voss, a brilliant but haunted psychiatrist who steps into a long-abandoned mansion to chase the source of her patients’ endless terrors. She brings science, skepticism, and a hidden wound she refuses to name. Murphy is Owen Hale, the sharp-eyed journalist who thinks it’s all mass hysteria—until the walls start breathing his own fears back at him. Farmiga is Sister Miriam, the medium whose gift is also her curse; every séance she conducts leaves another crack in her soul.

What they find isn’t just ghosts. It’s a living entity that weaponizes fear—turning the mansion into a mirror maze of their worst memories. Phobias manifest physically: endless corridors for the claustrophobic, bottomless drops for the acrophobic, drowning rooms for the thalassophobic. The house doesn’t kill quickly; it feeds slowly, savoring every scream.

The horror is intimate and psychological—long, quiet takes where the only sound is breathing, then sudden, visceral shocks that make you flinch. The trio’s dynamic is electric: Voss’s clinical calm cracking under pressure, Hale’s cynicism turning to desperation, Miriam’s faith fraying as the entity whispers her own sins. The final act is a descent into pure dread—confronting the thing that’s been feeding on them all along, and realizing the gateway was never in the house… it was inside one of them.

Visually stunning, emotionally devastating, and relentlessly tense. This isn’t jump-scare cheap thrills; it’s a slow, suffocating plunge into the human mind’s darkest corners.

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