London — Debut filmmaker James Ross II has delivered a bold but uneven entry into the horror genre with Parasomnia, a film that merges clinical sleep disorders with occult terror in a narrative that feels both ambitious and overstuffed. The movie premiered at the BFI London Film Festival in early August, where it sparked discussion among critics for its graphic visuals and uncompromising approach to body horror, though many found its central conceit struggled to coalesce into a truly frightening experience.
What Happened
Parasomnia follows Dr. Elena Marchetti, a sleep specialist conducting controversial experiments on patients with parasomnia—a condition characterized by complex behaviors during sleep. When a mysterious woman named Sibyl appears at her clinic, claiming to suffer from a rare form of the disorder, Marchetti’s investigation leads her down a rabbit hole of occult practices, family secrets, and supernatural forces. The film builds toward a climactic revelation that Sibyl is, in fact, a succubus—a female demon from European folklore said to seduce men in their dreams and drain their life force.
The narrative weaves together multiple threads: a tragic family history involving a mother who died under suspicious circumstances, a clandestine government program studying sleep manipulation, and ancient rituals designed to summon entities from the subconscious. As the boundary between sleep and wakefulness blurs, Marchetti begins experiencing her own parasomnia episodes, blurring the line between scientific inquiry and supernatural possession.
The film’s visual approach distinguishes it from typical genre fare. Ross employs stark lighting contrasts, unsettling camera movements, and practical effects that bring the succubus’s transformations to visceral life. The creature design draws from classical European mythology while incorporating modern anxieties about bodily autonomy and psychological invasion.
Why It Matters
Parasomnia arrives at a moment when sleep has become a contested terrain, transformed from a natural biological function into a marketable commodity. The film’s exploration of the “sleep economy”—a term referring to the commercialization of sleep patterns through apps, wearables, and corporate wellness programs—resonates with growing public concern over data privacy and the medicalization of rest.
The succubus mythos serves as a particularly apt metaphor for contemporary anxieties. In folklore, the succubus feeds on men’s dreams, leaving them physically and emotionally drained. In Parasomnia, this translates to a critique of late-stage capitalism’s extraction of personal data, where individuals unknowingly surrender their most intimate experiences—sleep—for surveillance and profit. The film suggests that our collective obsession with optimizing sleep may have opened a door through which something malevolent can enter.
Critics have noted that the film’s timing is fortuitous, coming on the heels of increased regulatory scrutiny of sleep-tracking companies and growing awareness of the mental health implications of sleep disruption. As artificial intelligence systems become more sophisticated at interpreting biometric data, the question of who controls that data—and what they might do with it—has moved from speculative fiction to pressing policy concern.
Background and Context
The tradition of sleep-themed horror stretches back to the silent era, beginning with Robert Wiene’s 1920 masterpiece The Cabinet of Dr Caligari, where the protagonist’s unreliable narration reflects a world where the boundaries of reality have collapsed. More recently, films like Nightmare (2015) and The Babadook (2014) have explored how psychological trauma manifests in dreams and nightmares.
Parasomnia’s approach differs in its explicit grounding in contemporary scientific discourse. The film’s sleep clinic sequences draw from real research into parasomnia, including studies documenting patients who walk, drive, or even prepare meals while apparently asleep. These behaviors, known as “sleep-related eating disorders” and “sleepwalking,” have been linked to fragmented REM sleep and neurological conditions that affect memory consolidation.
The succubus element connects to a broader tradition of folk horror that has seen a resurgence in recent years. Films like Midsommar (2019) and The Wicker Man (1973) have demonstrated the commercial viability of horror that draws from pre-Christian belief systems and communal rituals. Parasomnia updates this tradition by placing its supernatural elements within a clinical, data-driven framework that feels distinctly 21st century.
The film’s production context adds another layer of significance. Shot independently with a modest budget, Parasomnia represents a shift in horror filmmaking toward more personal, auteur-driven visions. Ross’s background in documentary filmmaking is evident in the film’s commitment to authenticity in depicting medical procedures and sleep research, lending credibility to scenes that might otherwise feel fantastical.
What to Watch Next
Industry analysts are watching how Parasomnia performs in the streaming market, where horror films have proven particularly successful in attracting global audiences. The film’s mixed critical reception has sparked debate about the future direction of the genre—whether audiences prefer straightforward scares or more cerebral, conceptually dense experiences.
The BFI’s inclusion of Parasomnia in its festival lineup signals institutional support for boundary-pushing horror that engages with contemporary social issues. This could indicate a broader industry trend toward genre films that function as both entertainment and cultural commentary.
On the international front, distributors are evaluating the film’s potential in markets where privacy concerns around health data are particularly acute. The European Union’s General Data Protection Regulation (GDPR) has created new frameworks for protecting biometric information, making Parasomnia’s themes especially relevant in territories where regulatory debates are actively shaping public consciousness.
The film’s visual style and practical effects have drawn praise from industry professionals, suggesting potential for Ross to develop his distinctive voice in future projects. However, the mixed reception highlights the challenge facing debut filmmakers attempting to balance commercial appeal with artistic ambition in a crowded marketplace.
Conclusion
Parasomnia represents a sincere attempt to elevate the horror genre through thematic sophistication and visual craftsmanship. While the film’s narrative complexity may have undermined its ability to deliver sustained scares, its exploration of sleep as a site of both vulnerability and exploitation offers compelling commentary on contemporary life.
The film succeeds in creating an atmosphere of creeping dread, particularly in its middle act where the distinction between dream and reality becomes increasingly ambiguous. Its succubus mythology, reimagined through the lens of data privacy and medical experimentation, feels fresh and unsettling.
For viewers willing to navigate its occasionally convoluted plot, Parasomnia rewards attention with moments of genuine unease and striking imagery. It may not achieve the cultural impact of horror classics, but it contributes meaningfully to an ongoing conversation about technology’s encroachment on the most fundamental aspects of human experience.
In an era where sleep is increasingly monitored, optimized, and commodified, Parasomnia serves as a cautionary tale about what might be lost—or gained—when we surrender our nights to machines and algorithms.
Sources:
[Guardian International](https://www.theguardian.com/film/2026/aug/31/parasomnia-review-sleep-schedule-horror-conjures-up-a-succubus-on-the-loose-in-waking-nightmare)
Corrections
If you believe this article contains an error, contact Herald Express with the source URL and supporting evidence.
Story synopsis gathered from: Guardian International — source
