In Fabric (2018)

In Fabric is the kind of movie that feels like a fever dream you can’t quite shake—part haunted-house tale, part fashion-world satire, staged with the lush, giallo-tinged elegance of a nightmare window display. Its big pleasure is how confidently it turns a simple premise into something mesmerizing: the department store becomes a cathedral of consumer desire, and every scene is dressed in surreal, stylish dread with a wicked sense of humor. The tone is hypnotic and off-kilter, where laughs and unease share the same breath, and the horror comes as much from the rituals of shopping as from anything supernatural. If you want tidy explanations and conventional scares, it may frustrate you, but if you’re open to an uncategorizable, darkly funny spell of cinema, it’s an absolute treat.

In Fabric is clearly aiming for a surreal, satirical ghost story that treats a department store like a cathedral of consumerism, with a cursed dress drifting through people’s lives like an urban legend. The problem is that it’s far more interested in mood, oddball dialogue, and dream logic than in coherent plotting, so if you want clear rules, character depth, or a satisfying payoff, it can feel random, silly, and strangely empty. It also leans hard into stylized, self-serious presentation, which some will read as artful and others as pretentious B-movie dressing. If you enjoy bizarre, atmospheric horror-comedy that’s more about vibe than answers, you may be on its wavelength; if you’re allergic to confusion masquerading as meaning, save your time.