There’s a specific, spine-tingling dread that comes from being trapped in a room with someone who isn’t quite there anymore. Now, imagine that person might also be hosting a malevolent force. That’s the unnerving premise of Bury the Devil, the new horror-thriller from director Adam O’Brien that slinked into theaters back in March and has been burrowing into streaming queues ever since. It’s a lean, mean 84-minute exercise in claustrophobia, and it’s the kind of movie that makes you double-check the locks on your doors - and maybe your grandmother’s medicine cabinet.
The setup is deliciously simple. Julia (a magnetic Emmanuelle Lussier Martinez) is a hospice nurse with a patient load that would break anyone else. Her latest assignment is Evelyn (Dawn Ford), an elderly woman with advanced dementia, living in a creaky, isolated house that looks like it was decorated by a gothic novelist with a grudge. It’s a classic night-shift gig from hell. But here’s the twist: Julia quickly realizes that Evelyn’s confusion isn’t just about forgetting names or dates. There’s a rhythmic tapping on the walls. The temperature drops in specific corners. And Evelyn, in her lucid moments, speaks with a clarity and venom that suggests someone - or something - else is pulling the strings.
O’Brien, who clearly has a deep love for the micro-budget horror of the 1970s, doesn’t waste a single frame. This isn't a movie about jump scares (though there are a few that will make you spill your popcorn). This is about slow-burn psychological rot. The camera lingers on Martinez’s face as she goes from professional compassion to sheer, unadulterated terror. She’s the audience’s anchor, and she sells every moment of disbelief. You believe her when she starts to question her own sanity, which is exactly what the film wants. Is Julia cracking under the pressure of her job, or is there a genuine demonic presence in the room? The film plays that ambiguity beautifully.
Opposite her, the legendary Bill Rowat delivers a masterclass in unsettling support as Randall, a neighbor who seems a little too interested in Evelyn’s well-being. He’s the kind of guy who offers you tea while simultaneously suggesting you might want to leave before the moon rises. It’s a thankless role - the suspicious local - but Rowat imbues him with a quiet menace that keeps you guessing. And then there’s Mark Antony Krupa as Father Thierry, a priest who shows up with the kind of generic platitudes you’d expect, but with eyes that suggest he knows far more about the house’s history than he’s letting on. These characters aren’t just filler; they’re pieces of a puzzle that Julia has to solve before sunrise.
What really elevates Bury the Devil above the usual "haunted old lady" schtick is its commitment to a specific, tangible atmosphere. The sound design is phenomenal - the creaks and groans of the house become a character themselves. You’ll find yourself holding your breath during the long, silent stretches, waiting for the other shoe to drop. And when it does, it drops hard. The horror here is less about gore and more about the violation of a safe space. It’s the terror of watching someone you’re supposed to protect turn into a vessel for something ancient and hateful.
If we’re being honest, the film isn't without its hiccups. The script, while tight, leans on a few well-worn horror tropes - the unreliable narrator, the flickering lights, the ominous basement door that really shouldn’t be opened. And the ending, while thematically resonant, might feel abrupt for viewers expecting a traditional, bombastic finale. It’s the kind of conclusion that begs for a rewatch, which is either a compliment or a curse depending on your patience.
With a TMDb rating of 6.5/10, it’s not reinventing the wheel. It’s not going to dethrone The Exorcist or Hereditary in the horror canon. But what it lacks in originality, it makes up for in sheer, gripping intensity. It’s a movie that understands that the scariest monsters aren’t the ones with fangs - they’re the ones that live in the faces of the people we love, waiting for the lights to go out.
So, if you’re in the mood for a quiet, unsettling, and deeply atmospheric chiller that respects your intelligence and doesn’t overstay its welcome, fire up Bury the Devil tonight. Just maybe don’t watch it alone. And if the phone rings at 2 AM, maybe let it go to voicemail. You never know who - or what - is on the other end.
