Seldom does a film accurately portray technology, and even less frequently is such precision found in thrillers or horror movies—genres where authenticity often yields to generating frights and suspense. Yet, *Red Rooms* largely succeeds in this regard. Few elements disrupt my immersion in a movie more swiftly than a technological plot device that verges on pure sorcery. Although the phrase “dark web” may invariably strike one as somewhat absurd, the technical aspects never become a distraction throughout its 118-minute runtime.
Nonetheless, *Red Rooms*’ brilliance doesn’t stem solely from its technical accuracy. Instead, this element merely avoided derailing an otherwise superb cinematic work. The film’s true strength lies in director Pascal Plante’s masterful cultivation of suspense, its impeccable, deliberately unfolding rhythm, and the phenomenal portrayals by Juliette Gariépy as Kelly-Anne and Laurie Babin as Clementine.
The narrative predominantly focuses on Kelly-Anne, a model, hacker, and professional gambler, present at the trial of serial killer Ludovic Chevalier. There, she cultivates a friendship with Clementine, an admirer of Chevalier who firmly believes he has been wrongly accused.
Clementine compulsively and vociferously champions Chevalier, phoning into television programs and yelling at journalists beyond the courthouse doors, conspicuously drawing attention to herself. In contrast, Kelly-Anne maintains an air of greater enigma, her true intentions obscured. Even by the movie’s conclusion, her ultimate objectives and underlying reasons remain shrouded in uncertainty.
This very ambiguity contributes to *Red Rooms*’ captivating nature. The film exudes an unpredictable quality; no character appears entirely credible or easily empathized with. The environment they occupy, though recognizable, possesses an unsettling strangeness.
The film prolongs this unease for extended durations, causing audience discomfort. It offers ample chance to mentally explore every conceivable unfolding of events: Is Chevalier genuinely the culprit? Could Kelly-Anne be responsible? Was a victim’s mother involved as an accessory? Does the prosecutor conceal a hidden truth?
The narrative progresses deliberately, revealing a story encompassing abduction, real-time streamed torment, and illicit snuff films, before culminating in an unexpected climax that skillfully extracts authentic drama from online poker and Bitcoin. Ultimately, its focus lies less on the homicides themselves and more on themes of obsession, online echo chambers, and the pervasive influence of media. It bears a distinct resemblance to a grittier counterpart to David Fincher’s *Gone Girl*.
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