Kimi (2022)

Kimi is the kind of sleek, modern thriller that feels like it’s happening right now—anxieties about surveillance, corporate power, and isolation all tightened into a taut little pressure cooker. Steven Soderbergh directs with his trademark efficiency, turning everyday spaces and screens into sources of dread, while Zoë Kravitz gives a smart, lived-in performance that makes the fear feel specific and human, not just a plot device. The movie moves with brisk, confident pacing, building suspense through clean visual storytelling and sharp sound design rather than overexplaining itself, and it delivers the satisfying kick of a classic Rear Window-style ride updated for the work-from-home era. It’s not for viewers who want a sprawling mystery or a gentle watch—this one is tense and occasionally violent—but if you’re on the fence, it’s a tightly crafted, highly watchable jolt that respects your time.

Kimi is clearly aiming for a slick, pandemic-era paranoia thriller about surveillance, corporate rot, and a woman forced to confront her fears, and Steven Soderbergh keeps it moving with clean, efficient direction. The problem is that once the central hook is established, the story starts leaning on thinner characterization and more conventional thriller beats, and some of the later turns can feel a bit convenient rather than earned. Zoë Kravitz does strong, grounded work selling the anxiety and isolation, and the contained, apartment-heavy setup gives the film a tense, intimate vibe. If you want a fully fleshed-out mystery with deep supporting roles and airtight plausibility, this may leave you cold, but if you’re in the mood for a brisk, stylish cat-and-mouse ride, it’s serviceable.