Backrooms review: Kane Parsons builds a fascinating maze not everyone will navigate

There are films that invite audiences in. Backrooms practically dares them to keep up. That isn’t necessarily a criticism. In fact, it is probably the most honest way to describe Kane Parsons’ long-awaited feature adaptation of the internet phenomenon he helped popularise. Like the sprawling, unsettling universe that inspired it, Backrooms is less interested in answering questions than creating new ones. The problem is that what feels mysterious to one may feel frustratingly incomplete to another. And that divide will likely determine whether the film works for you. For those unfamiliar with Parsons’ sprawling online mythology, Backrooms can feel like being dropped into the middle of a conversation everyone else has been having for years. The film follows Clark (Chiwetel Ejiofor), a troubled furniture store owner whose life appears to be quietly falling apart. Battling alcoholism, emotional outbursts and the lingering collapse of his marriage, Clark discovers strange electrical anomalies hidden within his failing business. What begins as curiosity soon becomes obsession. Behind the walls of his store lies an impossible world – the Backrooms, an endless labyrinth of yellow corridors, abandoned office spaces and distorted realities that seem to exist outside the laws of time and physics. Alongside his employees and later a therapist played by Renate Reinsve, Clark ventures deeper into this strange dimension, encountering creatures, unexplained phenomena and fragments of reality that feel both alien and oddly familiar. At least, that’s the straightforward version. Because Backrooms is ultimately less concerned with plot than atmosphere. And on that front, the film is genuinely impressive. Parsons, who rose to prominence through his viral YouTube shorts before making the leap to feature filmmaking, demonstrates a remarkable command of visual storytelling. The cinematography is exceptional. Empty hallways threaten. Fluorescent lighting becomes oppressive and endless spaces feel claustrophobic. The production design hit it out of the park. Every corridor, office space and endless yellow room feels meticulously crafted to evoke unease. There is a tactile quality to the environments that many modern studio horror films struggle to achieve. The film understands that the Backrooms themselves are the attraction, and for much of its runtime, simply watching characters navigate these uncanny spaces is compelling enough. The visual grammar is particularly strong. Parsons knows how to use scale, silence and negative space to create dread. Some of the film’s best moments arrive when absolutely nothing happens. That feeling of uncertainty is where Backrooms thrives. However, the same qualities that make the film fascinating also make it difficult to emotionally connect with. One unfamiliar with the broader Kane Pixels mythology may spend much of the runtime searching for something more substantial to hold onto. A stronger character arc. Clearer motivations. More emotional investment. The film gives us just enough information to understand who these people are. Clark owns a failing furniture store, drinks too much, struggles with emotional outbursts and is clearly carrying years of emotional baggage. We understand the shape of his life. What we rarely get is the deeper emotional excavation needed to make us truly invest in him. The supporting characters fare even less successfully. Several exist primarily to move the narrative through the maze rather than develop meaningful arcs of their own. As a result, the film feels caught between two impulses: telling a character-driven story and serving as an extension of existing Backrooms lore. Fans of Parsons’ work will likely be more forgiving, but for others, this may act as their biggest stumbling block. Part of the appeal of the Backrooms has always been the unknown. Questions are rarely answered. Strange objects appear without explanation. The mythology operates more like a recurring nightmare than a traditional narrative. In that sense, the film remains remarkably faithful to its source. Meanwhile, the performances from Chiwetel Ejiofor and Renate Reinsve help anchor the material whenever the story threatens to drift too far into abstraction. Both actors bring emotional weight to characters who often exist within a framework more interested in ideas than people. Reinsve, in particular, injects a welcome sense of humanity into a narrative that can sometimes feel emotionally distant. Yet even they cannot entirely solve the film’s central challenge. What exactly is Backrooms trying to be? A horror film? A science-fiction mystery? A psychological drama? A visual experiment? An extension of internet lore? The answer seems to be all of the above. And perhaps that is why the film remains so intriguing despite its flaws. For longtime followers of Kane Pixels, many of the unanswered questions are part of the appeal. The Backrooms has always functioned less like a conventional story and more like a shared nightmare. Not every mystery needs a solution. Not every corridor needs an exit. Others, however, may find themselves looking for something more familiar — a stronger emotional anchor, clearer motivations or a more satisfying narrative pay-off. The film rarely provides those comforts. Yet even when it stumbles, Backrooms remains a remarkable piece of visual filmmaking. The cinematography, production design and sheer command of atmosphere announce Kane Parsons as a filmmaker worth watching. The maze is undeniably impressive. Whether you find meaning inside it is another question entirely. Backrooms releases in India on June 12.