Annihilation

Annihilation is a 2018 sci-fi film that often slips under the radar, which is wild considering how much it tries to do both visually and narratively. The setup is deceptively simple: Lena (Natalie Portman), a biologist and former soldier, ventures into a mysterious and expanding zone known as "The Shimmer" to understand what happened to her husband and what the phenomenon even is. But you can forget about a straightforward mission structure. The story quickly turns into something much weirder and more unsettling than your typical “group goes into the unknown” plot.

One thing the movie nails is atmosphere. Right from the start, it feels inherently uneasy. The colors inside The Shimmer are both beautiful and unnerving, with everything looking kind of dreamlike in a way that reminds me of a fever you’re almost enjoying. Cinematographer Rob Hardy deserves a lot of credit for making decay look enticing and fluorescent bunnies look like omens. It’s not just pretty visuals either; the twisted mutations in The Shimmer's wildlife, like the infamous bear scene, are genuinely disturbing and will stick in your mind.

Pacing, though, is where things start to wobble. Annihilation lingers a little too long on certain philosophical discussions and slow walks, almost like it’s daring you to get bored. There are moments when I wanted to shake the movie by the shoulders to make it move along. It overindulges in dream sequences and existential pondering, sometimes at the expense of narrative momentum. That said, when the horror elements hit, they are sharp, sudden, and absolutely effective, so the payoffs are real if you’re patient.

The performances mostly land. Natalie Portman is spot-on as Lena, capturing both the scientist’s intellectual curiosity and the emotional damage she’s dragging with her. Jennifer Jason Leigh, Tessa Thompson, and Gina Rodriguez all get moments to shine, but the writing doesn’t really flesh out their characters beyond broad motivations. You won’t walk away feeling like you truly knew anyone outside Lena, but I’d argue the film leans into that sense of alienation on purpose. Still, if you need character-driven stories, you might feel a bit shortchanged.

What sets Annihilation apart is its commitment to ambiguity and weirdness. Director Alex Garland never really gives you a clear answer about what’s happening inside The Shimmer, or what it all means. I love that, but it also feels a little contrived at times, as if uncertainty is supposed to stand in for depth. The movie is trying to be profound, but it occasionally slips into being vague for the sake of being vague. It’s a fine line, and the film doesn’t always walk it confidently.

One thing I really appreciated, especially on rewatch, is that Annihilation refuses to spoon-feed thematic content. Grief, self-destruction, transformation, the limits of understanding — it’s all baked in, but only if you’re willing to dig for it. That’s not everyone’s thing, and I get it. Still, it feels rare for a studio sci-fi movie to trust the audience this much. There’s a gutsy dream sequence in the third act that goes fully abstract, and while it lost me a bit, I respect how committed the film is to its own brand of psychedelic logic.

Sound design and the score, created by Ben Salisbury and Geoff Barrow, deserve their own applause. The ambient soundscape and sudden musical stings build tension way more effectively than standard orchestral stuff. The final confrontation uses sound in a way that’s genuinely unsettling — it’s sci-fi that lets you feel how alien this world is, not just see it.

Overall, Annihilation is gutsy and beautiful, but definitely not for everyone. Sometimes it tries too hard to be obscure and artistic, and it fumbles its supporting characters, but it makes up for those flaws with mood, visuals, and the rare courage to go fully bonkers when it counts. If you want laser-sharp storytelling, you’ll be frustrated. If you’re up for a vibe-heavy, nightmarish puzzle of a movie, it’s absolutely worth your time.