Quick Info
I finally watched "The Empty Man," and I'm so glad I went in knowing almost nothing. On its surface, it sounds like a typical urban legend horror flick, but it’s sneakily ambitious — tackling cosmic horror, cults, and existential dread, especially in its back half. The story follows an ex-cop who stumbles onto a string of disappearances linked to this mysterious entity, the Empty Man, and I kept feeling like I was watching a blend of "Seven" and "Hereditary" with some truly haunting visuals.
The opening prologue in Bhutan is a standout — it’s basically its own short film, so atmospheric and unsettling, giving you this creeping sense that something is always lurking in the shadows. The cinematography makes fantastic use of darkness and wide shots, making the characters seem really small compared to this unknowable threat. Some scenes had me squinting at the screen, looking for details in the gloom, which absolutely ramps up the tension.
James Badge Dale, who plays the main character, is way better than you usually get in this kind of horror. He brings this worn-out, haunted quality to the role, grounding a story that gets really surreal. The supporting cast—especially the cult members—play their parts with a strange, almost uncanny calmness that makes everything feel more off-kilter. No big jump scares here, just a gradual build of dread.
If I’m being honest, the movie’s pacing is off at times. At over two hours, it definitely drags in the middle, and the story can get so muddled with its own weirdness that I had to resist the urge to check my phone. But there are some jaw-dropping set pieces—like the forest scene near the lake—and the way the movie toys with reality and perception pays off if you stick with it.
You would enjoy this if you like your horror weird, heady, and slow-burn, more for atmospheric dread than for gore or jump scares. Fans of Lovecraftian themes or movies like "It Follows" and "The Ritual" will probably get a lot out of this, especially if you don’t mind a few narrative loose ends.
