Ever wondered how to survive a serial killer when you can't move? Join the chilling ride with 'Don't Move' on Netflix!
Netflix has a knack for delivering edge-of-your-seat thrillers, and their latest offering, "Don't Move," produced by the legendary Sam Raimi, is no exception. This high-concept cat-and-mouse thriller thrusts viewers into a horrifying predicament as Kelsey Asbille’s character finds herself paralyzed after being injected with a terrifying drug by a psychopathic serial killer played by Finn Wittrock. It’s a battle of wits where every heartbeat and shiver is amplified, as the lead struggles to find a way to communicate and survive without being able to move a muscle.
The plot twists and turns in gut-wrenching ways, leaving audiences with their hearts racing as they root for the protagonist’s escape. As the film unfolds, viewers are introduced to a chilling dynamic between Asbille and Wittrock, accentuating the tension and fear with every scene. Raimi’s signature touch adds depth to the film, marking it as a memorable addition to the psychological horror genre. Critics are buzzing about the solid performances that keep the tension alive, highlighting how Wittrock blends charm with menace to brilliantly craft a villain that viewers will love to hate.
But how does a film centered on paralysis manage to keep things engaging? The answer lies in the art of suspense and minimalist cinematography, allowing viewers to feel as trapped as Asbille's character. This simple yet effective approach means that every glance, every whisper is filled with mounting dread—perfect for those who enjoy a good scare. Despite some reviews pointing out that it might play it safe at times, the film effectively balances a slow-burn tension with shocking moments that are bound to keep audiences glued to their screens.
As the story reaches its climax, viewers are treated to a thought-provoking ending that leaves them questioning fate, chance, and the limits of the human spirit. "Don’t Move" isn't just about survival; it's a deep dive into grief, revenge, and the consequences of choice. And for trivia-loving viewers, did you know that Sam Raimi is also famous for directing the well-loved "Evil Dead" franchise? Plus, Kelsey Asbille previously appeared in the acclaimed series "Yellowstone," where she demonstrated her ability to take on intense roles, making her a perfect fit for this psychologically fraught thriller.
Once you've seen it, don't forget to ponder the film's key takeaway: sometimes, being still might just be your best chance of staying alive! Whether you're keen on heart-racing horror or just looking for the next Netflix binge, "Don't Move" is sure to satisfy your thirst for suspenseful storytelling. So grab your popcorn, lock your doors, and settle in for a petrifying night of cinema!
The cat-and-mouse thriller sees its lead fight to survive after a serial killer injects her with a paralytic drug.
A grieving woman is paralysed by a psychopathic serial killer in a solid Sam Raimi-produced shocker that boasts some genuine suspense.
The 'Yellowstone' star plays a woman injected with a paralyzing drug, which puts strict limits on how she can fight for her life in 'Don't Move.'
A review of Don't Move from producer Sam Raimi, starring Finn Wittrock as a killer on the trail of a grieving mother played by Kelsey Asbille.
Finn, a horror genre enthusiast, reveals what fuels his passion for the scary side of storytelling, and shares some nostalgic moments from the set of " ...
The hook for Netflix's high-concept thriller Don't Move, produced by Sam Raimi, dangles the potential for a breathless thrill ride.
Don't Move is the latest Sam Raimi-produced horror film on Netflix. Here's our breakdown of the psychological cat-and-mouse thriller and its meaning.
Each week on Polygon, we round up the most notable new releases to streaming and VOD, highlighting the biggest and best new movies for you to watch at home.
Finn Wittrock and Kelsey Asbille star in Netflix's new movie "Don't Move," a petrifying Hitchcockian experiment that mostly work.
The threadbare 93-minute two-hander contains very few cogent observations about its fractured characters or its supposed suspense.