IT COMES AT NIGHT. Apocalypse in the Middle of the Forest

Whatever this is, it causes the sick person’s body to be covered in blisters, their pupils seem to dissolve, they stop responding to external stimuli, they bleed profusely, and direct contact with them risks infection. Whether, in the later stages, the sick person becomes more aggressive, agitated, or turns into something monstrous—we don’t know. In the opening scene of It Comes at Night, we see characters wearing gas masks and rubber gloves saying their goodbyes to a dying elderly man. They then wheel him into the forest on a cart, kill him, throw his body into a pre-dug pit, and set it on fire. The rising black smoke seems to confirm the fatal nature of the disease, but this is not what the protagonists should fear the most. The titular “it” is something entirely different.

Soon, we learn that the victim was the father of Sarah (Carmen Ejogo) and the grandfather of Travis (Kelvin Harrison Jr.), who live in a secluded forest house with Paul (Joel Edgerton), Sarah’s husband and Travis’s father. The three-person family has no contact with the outside world and doesn’t know if things are better or worse elsewhere. They assume it’s safer to stay away from others, believing their current location is relatively secure. They follow strict rules—no going outside at night, no taking unnecessary risks, and no contact with strangers.

But one day, someone breaks into their house. The intruder is subdued, tied to a nearby tree, and effectively quarantined. After twenty-four hours, Paul learns that the man’s name is Will (Christopher Abbott). He was searching for food and water for himself and his family, unaware that anyone lived in the house. The decision is made to bring Will’s family to the house—partly because they have livestock—and attempt to coexist under one roof.

Written and directed by Trey Edward Shults, the film is marketed as a horror movie, though it may be more fitting to call it a thriller—a term that, in the past, was sometimes used to describe horror films with a poetic sensibility. With It Comes at Night, it’s worth considering what genre we’re dealing with, not just because of expectations surrounding another apocalyptic tale of survivors and a deadly epidemic. Not this time. The plot focuses on the uncertain relationships among the five characters (Will arrives with his wife, Kim, and their young son, Andrew, though the child—despite playing a crucial role later—does not take part in the conflict).

Despite an initial willingness to cooperate and the basic human need for connection, there is never complete trust between the two families. Here, even the slightest hint that someone has been dishonest can spark an explosion with tragic consequences. This theme, familiar from many other films, is particularly effective because we genuinely want to believe in the goodness of people—that saving Will’s life and inviting his family in is motivated not by fear or cold calculation but by an attempt to overcome negative emotions. And the same should work in reverse.

What’s surprising is that the story is not told from Paul or Will’s perspective—the heads of their respective families—but from that of Travis, a teenager on the cusp of adulthood, forced to take part in a collective nightmare. In the first scenes, he loses his grandfather; later, his dog runs off into the forest. As if that weren’t enough, his hormones are raging, and the newly arrived, still young and very attractive Kim (Riley Keough) becomes the object of his fascination and fantasies. But his thoughts are consumed by disease and death—even when an erotic vision enters his mind, it is quickly replaced by macabre imagery.

Shults’ most intriguing element is his seamless transition between reality and dream—a consequence of living in a world that strips you of love, faith, and hope. Trust in parental authority leads to shocking results. It’s no surprise that the only escape from this is feverish dreams, and what comes at night is precisely that—dreams. The surrealism blends remarkably well with the realism of the film’s premise, wrapping the story in a more horror-like aesthetic. So much so that, at one point, I started wondering if what I was watching was still a nightmare or already reality, as the brutality and fatalism of the situation surpassed even the typical imagery of horror cinema.

One might criticize the abrupt ending—a sudden attack, followed almost immediately by a black screen and credits—but we shouldn’t blame the director for this, as waking from a bad dream is just as immediate. Shults is merciless to his characters, showing how much they are willing to sacrifice for their loved ones’ safety. And in the end, he quietly leaves them alone with their thoughts.