Monolith (2023)

Monolith is the kind of smart, needle-tight thriller that turns a very modern obsession—podcasts, conspiracies, the hunger to be first—into a slow-burn nightmare you can’t quite shake. Almost entirely anchored inside one house, Matt Vesely’s direction squeezes suspense out of voices on a phone line and the growing sense that reality is slipping a fraction at a time, and Lily Sullivan is riveting as a journalist whose confidence curdles into fixation. The film’s vibe is intimate, claustrophobic, and quietly unnerving rather than jump-scare loud, letting dread accumulate the way a troubling story does at 2 a.m. It won’t satisfy viewers who need big set pieces or clear answers, but if you like sci-fi mystery that doubles as a psychological pressure cooker, this one gets under your skin.

Monolith is clearly aiming for a modern, lo-fi sci‑fi mystery: a podcast investigation that slowly tightens into paranoia, isolation, and the creeping feeling that reality is being edited. When it works, Lily Sullivan carries the whole thing with anxious intensity, and the voice-only interviews create an eerie, intimate vibe that suits the premise. But be warned: it’s a deliberately slow, talky film that withholds answers, and the back half pivots toward psychological unraveling in a way some viewers find more deflating than revelatory. If you want concrete mythology, a punchy pace, or a clean, satisfying “what happened” payoff, this may feel like a tease rather than a thriller.