White Noise (2005)

White Noise is special because it takes grief—raw, everyday, painfully recognizable—and runs it through the cold hum of modern technology, turning radios, static, and ordinary household electronics into portals for dread. Michael Keaton anchors the film with a grounded, quietly desperate performance that feels like a comeback, making the supernatural elements hit harder because you believe the man at the center of them. Geoffrey Sax builds a ghost-story atmosphere that’s more uneasy than flashy, the kind of creeping, late-night chill that lingers after the screen goes dark and makes you listen twice to the silence in your own room. If you prefer your horror all jump-scares and clear rules, this may feel more like a slow-burn mood piece, but if you’re intrigued by the eerie question of what might be hiding in the noise, it’s a smart, unsettling watch.

White Noise wants to be a modern ghost story about grief turning into obsession, using EVP as a creepy, plausible hook and giving Michael Keaton room to play a man unraveling. The problem is it often swaps genuine tension for noisy jump-scare tactics and plot threads that feel more like random static than a steadily building mystery, so by the time it reaches its big turns it can feel messy rather than haunting. Keaton commits and there are a few unsettling sound-and-image moments, but the drama is thin and the logic gets wobbly, which makes the “supernatural repercussions” land with a thud. If you like slow-burn, emotionally grounded horror or tight thrillers with clean rules, this may frustrate you; if you’re happy to ride the vibe and don’t mind nonsense in exchange for eerie atmosphere, you might get enough out of it.