Split (2017)

What makes Split so gripping is how it turns a confined, nerve-tight setup into a showcase of pure cinematic control—M. Night Shyamalan dialing in a sleek, suspenseful “return to form” where every glance and hallway feels charged. James McAvoy delivers a tour-de-force performance that’s less a gimmick than a mesmerizing feat of character work, shifting the film’s temperature moment to moment without ever winking at the audience. Across from him, Anya Taylor-Joy brings a sharp, watchful resilience that keeps the tension human, not just mechanical. It’s a thriller that plays like a pressure cooker—compelling, unsettling, and meticulously crafted—though if you prefer your horror purely supernatural or splatter-heavy, this one’s more about psychological dread than gore.

Split is clearly aiming for a tense, actor-driven psychological thriller, and it largely runs on James McAvoy’s showy, high-wire performance and M. Night Shyamalan’s knack for tight, contained suspense. The problem is that its hook leans hard into a sensationalized, arguably irresponsible depiction of mental illness, which can feel exploitative rather than insightful depending on your tolerance for pulpy genre shorthand. As it ramps up, the story also takes some big swings that many viewers find contrived or downright silly, and the ending can land more “what?” than “wow.” If you want grounded horror or thoughtful psychology, this likely isn’t your film—but if you’re here for a twisty, heightened thriller with strong performances and a creepy vibe, it can still deliver.