“Backrooms” follows a furniture store manager who discovers a strange doorway in the basement of his showroom. It’s based on the original 2019 creepypasta image and director Kane Parsons’ subsequent series of YouTube videos.
Destined to make a whole bunch of money while confusing many audience members, “Backrooms” is like a puzzle. You put all of the pieces together and it’s complete. Seems pretty simple… right? Not exactly. Here, when you look at the completed puzzle, you aren’t seeing your work come to fruition. Instead, it’s almost like an amalgamation of your greatest fears.
Because, ultimately, this is what the film is exploring. Every person on Earth has secrets and deep-rooted traumas, including layer upon layer of complexity beneath the surface. As you might have guessed already, this is what these “backrooms” represent. Much like the human mind, the concept serves as a metaphor for the endless mazes, walls and randomness that our brains conceive just to avoid ourselves.
It’s a fascinating concept — especially impressive considering it all originally comes from a 4chan image.
While “Backrooms” executes on this idea of memory, it never completely deciphers it. After setting up the characters, the film tends to favor spectacle over intimacy as the narrative progresses. While the first two-thirds of the 105-minute runtime is a slow burn, the final 30 minutes up the intensity. For the average viewer, the climax will likely provide everything they waited for. Though, with the complex initial questions, the conclusion itself provides few satisfactory answers.
The metaphor is spelled out, but ambiguity reigns supreme in terms of literal resolutions about the backrooms themselves.
“Backrooms” doesn’t feel complete. The beauty of the idea is that it’s mysterious. Extending a simple picture to a feature-length film takes some of this simplicity away. The result is a movie that wants to tease lore, but also never share it fully. It comes across as a “part 1” rather than a solo experience because of this.
“It’s a real mess, am I right?”
Much like Clark himself says, “Backrooms” is messy. There’s lots of walking. Lots of talking. Lots of “spooky” noises lurking in the distance. But there’s not a lot of substance that comes with this. On first glance, the backrooms setup is striking. The subdued yellow walls and endless corridors provide an eerie setting. However, as characters begin to explore, it loses some of this effect. With each new individual that enters the backrooms, the film treats it like a revelation. Parsons spends considerable time emphasizing each entrance and exit of the space. After so many times, it begins to feel like “been there, done that.”
Despite the cyclical nature of “Backrooms,” it is eventually able to break free. This comes from the exhilaratingly bizarre finale. It’s hard not to admire Parsons’ vision here, as there are so many weird ideas thrown onto the screen. Script-wise, the over-the-top ending proves frustrating more often than not. Even though you may be scratching your head, it’s likely that your eyes will still be glued to the screen.
This is largely thanks to director of photography Jeremy Cox. This could have easily been a “bland” environment. But even with the minimalist set design, Cox inserts movement into every moment. As characters navigate the backrooms, it seems as though the space is only becoming more compact. Capturing the setting from a variety of angles makes the experience extra claustrophobic. On top of this is the mixture of perspectives, with grainy 1.33:1 found-footage scenes and standard 1.85:1 shots.
The strong leads elevate “Backrooms.” Chiwetel Ejiofor (Clark) and Renate Reinsve (Mary) both deliver noteworthy performances. More often than not, Ejiofor is angry. He brings loud energy to the role, diving into complete lunacy at times. Reinsve is a more silent counterpart, but her range certainly shows as the end nears. In the few moments where their personalities clash, it’s tense.
When quiet, “Backrooms” is at its best. As the noise increases, however, the initial uncanniness wears off.
Rating: 3 out of 5
