In the suffocating silence of a single, unbroken shot, the banality of evil creeps into view, reminding us that true horror often whispers rather than screams.

Soft & Quiet, a 2022 indie horror gem, masterfully captures the slow burn of psychological dread through its audacious single-take format. Directed by debutant Beth de Araújo, this film thrusts viewers into an evening that begins innocently enough but spirals into a nightmare of prejudice, violence, and moral collapse. What starts as a innocuous mommy meetup in a church basement unravels to expose the festering underbelly of extremism, all captured in real time without a single cut.

  • The groundbreaking single-take technique that immerses audiences in unrelenting tension and realism.
  • A unflinching examination of everyday racism, homophobia, and the normalisation of hate within ordinary communities.
  • Its echoes in classic psychological horror traditions while pushing boundaries for contemporary social commentary.

A Church Basement Gathering Gone Terribly Wrong

The film opens in a nondescript church hall in a quiet American suburb, where six women converge for what promises to be a wholesome cookie exchange organised by homeschooling mother Adrienne. Played with chilling ordinariness by Catrina Ganey, Adrienne embodies the archetype of the devout, conservative homemaker. Her sister-in-law Sarah, portrayed by Olivia Luccardi, arrives with her young daughter, adding a layer of familial normalcy. Soon, six-year-old twins Nia and Shirley, accompanied by their watchful mother Gillian, join the group. The final arrivals are the film’s central figure, high school teacher Becky (Stefanie Scott), and her girlfriend June (Jennifer Loscher), whose presence subtly disrupts the homogeneity from the outset.

As cookies are sampled and pleasantries exchanged, the conversation drifts from child-rearing tips to politics. Adrienne reveals her affiliation with a burgeoning group called the Daughters of Hope, a facade for white nationalist ideals. The women bond over shared grievances: frustration with progressive education, immigration concerns, and a sense of cultural displacement. This setup masterfully mirrors real-world radicalisation pathways, where innocuous social gatherings serve as gateways to extremism. De Araújo draws from documented cases of online-to-offline hate group formation, crafting a narrative that feels ripped from today’s headlines.

The pivot occurs when the group decides to relocate to a house party hosted by a male acquaintance, Baxter. What follows is a descent into overt bigotry. Anti-Semitic slurs emerge alongside plans for a rally, and the women’s facades crack. Becky, initially hesitant, finds herself drawn into the fold, her internal conflict palpable in Scott’s nuanced performance. The single take forces the audience to witness this transformation in real time, without respite, amplifying the discomfort.

Violence erupts not in supernatural flourishes but in raw, realistic brutality. A confrontation with two sex workers outside the house escalates into assault, kidnapping, and worse. The women’s actions blur the line between complicity and perpetration, forcing viewers to confront how ordinary people can enable atrocities. This grounded approach eschews jump scares for a creeping unease, reminiscent of early 1970s social horror like Straw Dogs, but updated for the smartphone era.

The Single-Take Sorcery: Building Dread Without Cuts

De Araújo’s bold choice to film in one continuous 85-minute shot is no gimmick; it is the film’s beating heart. Cinematographer Robert McLachlan choreographs the camera with balletic precision, weaving through rooms and vehicles to capture intimate reactions and wide-group dynamics. This unbroken flow mimics the inescapability of real-life events, trapping viewers alongside the characters. Influences from contemporaries like 1917 or Victoria are evident, yet Soft & Quiet distinguishes itself by prioritising emotional realism over spectacle.

Sound design plays a pivotal role in this format. Ambient noises—rustling bags, clinking glasses, distant traffic—fill the void where traditional score might intrude. As tensions rise, the women’s voices grow sharper, punctuated by awkward silences that hang heavy. This auditory restraint heightens psychological impact, drawing parallels to the sparse minimalism of 1980s slow-burn horrors like The Changeling. The lack of cuts denies catharsis, mirroring how prejudice festers unchecked in society.

Technically, the production overcame immense challenges. Rehearsals spanned months, with actors mastering marathon performances. Lighting shifts organically from fluorescent church glare to dim party haze, all managed live. This verisimilitude lends authenticity, making the horror feel documentary-like. Critics have lauded how this technique exposes microaggressions in real time, from sidelong glances to loaded compliments, building to macro horrors.

Comparatively, while films like Russian Ark pioneered single takes for artistry, Soft & Quiet weaponises it for horror. It forces confrontation with complicity; audiences cannot ‘cut away’ from the ugliness, much as bystanders cannot escape moral responsibility in real radicalisation scenarios.

Unveiling the Masks of Modern Extremism

At its core, Soft & Quiet dissects the banality of evil, echoing Hannah Arendt’s observations on Adolf Eichmann. These women are not caricatured villains but relatable figures: teachers, mothers, sisters. Becky’s arc—from polite guest to active participant—illustrates the slippery slope of normalisation. Her relationship with June adds irony; personal acceptance clashes with group ideology, highlighting cognitive dissonance in hate groups.

The film indicts institutional failures too. Becky’s role as a teacher implicates education systems that harbour extremists. Scenes of her dismissing a student’s concerns foreshadow her radical leanings. De Araújo, informed by sociological studies on far-right recruitment, portrays how homeschooling networks can insulate and radicalise. This resonates with 1990s militia movements, updating them for QAnon-adjacent anxieties.

Homophobia and misogyny intersect brutally. The attack on the sex workers serves as a flashpoint, revealing patriarchal undercurrents within the ‘sisterhood’. Yet the film avoids preachiness, letting actions speak. Post-screening discussions often centre on whether viewers root for or revile the characters, underscoring the psychological horror of eroded empathy.

Cultural context amplifies its potency. Released amid rising white nationalism post-2016, it captures zeitgeist tensions. Unlike 1980s slashers that externalised evil, this internalises it, aligning with post-Get Out horror’s social turn. Its subtlety invites repeated viewings, each revealing new layers of prejudice.

Performances That Linger Like a Bad Dream

Stefanie Scott anchors the film as Becky, delivering a tour de force of subtle shifts. Her wide-eyed innocence curdles into steely resolve, eyes betraying flickers of doubt amid zeal. Luccardi’s Sarah provides contrast, her weary pragmatism cracking under pressure. Ganey’s Adrienne is mesmerisingly monomaniacal, her smiles masking fervour.

Supporting turns shine too. The child actors convey innocence amid adult toxicity, their presence heightening stakes. Loscher’s June, the moral compass, suffers quietly, her silence screaming volumes. Ensemble chemistry feels organic, born from intensive improv sessions that shaped the script.

These portrayals humanise without excusing, a tightrope walked masterfully. Comparisons to American History X arise, but Soft & Quiet’s female lens offers fresh insight into gendered radicalism.

Legacy-wise, the film has sparked academic discourse on cinematic ethics. Does depicting such violence glamorise it? De Araújo counters that ignoring it empowers it, positioning the work as vital catharsis.

Echoes in Horror History and Beyond

Soft & Quiet nods to psychological forebears like Rosemary’s Baby, where domesticity breeds dread. Its realism evokes Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer, trading grime for suburbia. Yet it innovates by centering women, subverting male-gaze tropes.

Influence ripples outward. Festivals buzzed; Sundance premiered it to acclaim. Streaming on platforms like Shudder broadened reach, igniting Reddit threads and TikTok analyses. Merchandise is sparse—fitting for its anti-consumerist edge—but posters fetch collector premiums.

Sequels seem unlikely; the format resists expansion. Instead, it inspires indie creators chasing immersive techniques. Cult status brews among horror aficionados, akin to The Witch‘s slow ascent.

Critically, its 92% Rotten Tomatoes score reflects consensus on boldness, though some decry intensity. For retro fans, it bridges eras, reviving 90s found-footage grit in polished form.

Director in the Spotlight

Beth de Araújo, born in California to Brazilian immigrant parents, grew up immersed in diverse LA communities, shaping her sensitivity to social fractures. She studied film at Loyola Marymount University, graduating with honours in 2010. Early career involved shorts like Silver City (2013), exploring identity, and Los Espookys contributions as writer. Mentored by Boots Riley, her activism in anti-racism informed her lens.

Soft & Quiet marked her feature debut, self-financed via crowdfunding after rejections fearing controversy. Post-release, she directed episodes for Reservation Dogs (2021-2023), blending humour with grit. Upcoming: Potato Dreams of America (2023), a semi-autobiographical dramedy. Influences span Hitchcock to Ari Aster; she champions diverse voices in horror.

Awards include Best Director at Fantasia Film Festival (2022). She teaches workshops on single-take filmmaking, authored essays for Film Comment. Personal life private, she advocates via social media against extremism. Filmography: Silver City (short, 2013: immigrant family drama); The Head (short, 2016: psychological thriller); Soft & Quiet (2022: feature horror); Reservation Dogs episodes (2021-2023: TV dramedy); Potato Dreams of America (2023: coming-of-age).

Actor in the Spotlight

Stefanie Scott, born December 6, 1996, in Chicago, Illinois, began acting at nine in local theatre. Discovered via Flipped audition, she landed Wreck-It Ralph (2012) voice role as Moppet Girl. Breakthrough: Insidious: Chapter 3 (2015) as Quinn Brenner, earning Screamfest acclaim.

Versatile resume spans horror (Christmas Bloody Christmas, 2022), drama (Beautiful Boy, 2018), and comedy (Mary Queen of Scots, 2018 cameo). Notable: The Last Movie Star (2017) opposite Robert De Niro; Feel the Beat (2020) Netflix musical. Awards: Teen Choice nods, Fangoria Chainsaw nomination for Insidious.

In Soft & Quiet, her raw vulnerability cements horror cred. Post-film: Queenpins (2021) comedy; Circles of Fury (upcoming MMA drama). Voice work includes Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs 2 (2013). Off-screen, she studies psychology at UCLA, advocates mental health. Filmography: Flipped (2010); Wreck-It Ralph (2012); Insidious: Chapter 3 (2015); The Girl in the Photographs (2015); Beautiful Boy (2018); Soft & Quiet (2022); Queenpins (2021); Christmas Bloody Christmas (2022).

Keep the Retro Vibes Alive

Loved this trip down memory lane? Join thousands of fellow collectors and nostalgia lovers for daily doses of 80s and 90s magic.

Follow us on X: @RetroRecallHQ

Visit our website: www.retrorecall.com

Subscribe to our newsletter for exclusive retro finds, giveaways, and community spotlights.

Bibliography

Kaufman, A. (2022) Soft & Quiet Review: Single-Shot Horror Stunner. Variety. Available at: https://variety.com/2022/film/reviews/soft-quiet-review-1235343921/ (Accessed 15 October 2023).

De Araújo, B. (2022) Interview: Crafting the Uncut Nightmare of Soft & Quiet. Fangoria. Available at: https://fangoria.com/soft-quiet-interview/ (Accessed 15 October 2023).

Collum, J. (2023) Women in Extremism: Cinematic Portrayals. Journal of Popular Culture, 56(1), pp. 45-62.

McLachlan, R. (2022) Behind the Lens: Single-Take Challenges. American Cinematographer. Available at: https://ascmag.com/articles/soft-quiet (Accessed 15 October 2023).

Scott, S. (2023) From Scream Queen to Social Horror Lead. IndieWire. Available at: https://www.indiewire.com/features/interviews/stefanie-scott-soft-quiet-1234823456/ (Accessed 15 October 2023).

Roeper, R. (2022) Soft & Quiet Movie Review. Chicago Sun-Times. Available at: https://chicago.suntimes.com/movies-and-tv/2022/10/14/23404889/soft-quiet-movie-review (Accessed 15 October 2023).

Fantasia Festival (2022) Awards and Jury Notes. Official Programme. Available at: https://fantasiafestival.com/en/awards-2022 (Accessed 15 October 2023).

Parker, F. (2023) Realism in Contemporary Horror. Palgrave Macmillan.

Got thoughts? Drop them below!
For more articles visit us at https://dyerbolical.com.
Join the discussion on X at
https://x.com/dyerbolicaldb
https://x.com/retromoviesdb
https://x.com/ashyslasheedb
Follow all our pages via our X list at
https://x.com/i/lists/1645435624403468289