Red Lights (2012)

Red Lights is at its best when it turns skepticism into suspense, building a chilly, intelligent atmosphere where every “explanation” only sharpens the unease. Rodrigo Cortés directs with a steady, tightening grip, letting the film’s talky, case-by-case setup feel like a laboratory experiment that suddenly starts misbehaving, and the tension creeps in through sound, silence, and suggestion rather than cheap jolts. Cillian Murphy makes obsession feel frighteningly rational, Sigourney Weaver gives the story its bruised authority, and Robert De Niro’s showman mystique hangs over scenes like a dare. If you want a thriller that’s more about perception, belief, and the hunger to be right than nonstop action, this one rewards your patience with mounting dread and a wicked sense of control.

Red Lights wants to be a slick, skeptical thriller about science versus showmanship, with a slow-burn mystery that builds toward a big “gotcha” reveal, and on paper the cast makes that sound irresistible. In practice, it often feels like it’s straining for intensity with noisy set pieces and ominous mood rather than earning its twists, so the story can come off as both predictable and oddly implausible at the same time. If you’re picky about airtight logic and you hate endings that ask you to swallow a lot in one gulp, this is likely to frustrate you. The redeeming part is the atmosphere and the committed performances—especially Murphy’s anxious drive and Weaver’s grounded presence—so it can still work as a pulpy, late-night thriller if you’re willing to go along for the ride.