The Zone of Interest (2023) — Riley Cross Reviews

A Masterclass in Suffocating Silence

You’ve probably stubbed your toe, scrolled past twenty clicks of insurance scams, and realized you don't actually want to commit to a four-hour war movie. You want comfort? Borrow my copy of The Zone of Interest. I watched this in the theater when it dropped, and I walked out feeling like I’d spent three hours in a room with a refrigerator that just wouldn't turn off.

You know that feeling when you’re browsing the foreign section and you pick something up just because the box art looks moody? That’s Glazer. He’s stripped away the gratuitous gore and showed us the opposite of evil: indifference. The family in this movie lives in the most idealized house you’ve ever seen. Garden parties, immaculate lawns, the kids are okay. But the movie doesn't focus on the victims in the camp next door because Glazer knows that’s not really the point. Instead, the point is incredibly loud ambient noise and narrow camera shots that make the garden look smothering.

There’s a specific moment where the mother is chatting away about her flowers or something domestic, and you realize she literally cannot hear the industrial sounds of the furnace churning just 150 yards away. It is terrifying because she isn't crazy, and she isn't evil in the cartoon sense—she just doesn't care. This is a film for a "Night In" where you lock your front door, turn the volume up just enough to feel the bass in your chest, and let the quiet dread eat you alive. It’s beautiful but it leaves a taste in your mouth like bad milk.

I won’t sleep well after watching it, but god, I’m glad I saw it.

Bottom line: A suffocating, hypnotic nightmare that will leave you questioning your comfort.