Cat Person (2023)

Cat Person is that rare thriller-comedy that understands the scariest monsters can be ordinary misunderstandings, mismatched expectations, and the stories we tell ourselves between texts and real life. Susanna Fogel directs with a sharp, modern confidence, letting the humor land precisely because the intimacy feels so uncomfortably recognizable, and Emilia Jones and Nicholas Braun make every awkward pause and shifting power dynamic feel lived-in rather than “movie dramatic.” The film’s bold stylistic flourishes keep you slightly off-balance in the best way, turning everyday dating anxiety into a smart, prickly ride that’s as thought-provoking as it is tense. It’s not for everyone—there’s some gnarly violence and a regretted-sex scenario that may hit close to home—but if you want something bracing, intelligent, and darkly funny about how quickly perception can curdle into fear, this one sticks with you.

Cat Person is clearly aiming to be a sharp, modern anxiety-thriller with darkly comic bite, capturing how texting-fueled fantasy can collapse into real-world discomfort and fear. When it stays close to that awkward, creeping unease, it’s tense and relatable, and Emilia Jones does strong work selling Margot’s spiraling inner monologue. The problem is the movie keeps pushing past its strongest material into a more conventional thriller lane, where the pacing wobbles, motivations get over-explained, and the late turns can feel strained rather than chilling. If you want ambiguity, psychological dread, and a subtle gut-punch, you may find it diluted; if you’re okay with an R-rated, uncomfortable date-gone-wrong story that escalates into messier genre territory, it’ll still have moments that land.