On a thundery and rain-soaked night, Indianna Bell and Josiah Allen’s You’ll Never Find Me invites you along for a psychologically bewitching chamber piece. A girl-next-door type finds herself in an unknown man’s trailer, asking to borrow his phone. The table is set for an unsettling gender standoff, the kind that typically ends with entrapment; Bell and Allen dare to make us question our instincts. You’ll Never Find Me dances around preconceptions illustrated by thriller formulas about endangered women tricked by “nice” predatory men, blending what feels like the beginning of a true-crime report with haunted house eeriness. Bell and Allen employ big ambitions in a confined area, treating stranger-danger paranoias with an elevated supernatural presentation that’s frightening—maybe a bit overlong—but undeniably effective.
Everything happens during torrential rainfall, when a disoriented visitor (Jordan Cowan) appears rapping on Patrick’s (Brendan Rock) flimsy front door. The younger, shivering girl is unsure about Patrick’s hospitality; Patrick questions how his guest walked barefoot from the beach to his trailer park. We immediately and rightfully question Patrick’s motivations, conditioned by a society that discriminates against women with each Supreme Court ruling. And yet, the question quickly becomes “Which character is hiding more?”
The biggest hurdle for You’ll Never Find Me is its runtime: 96 minutes. That doesn’t sound daunting stacked next to epics like Killers of the Flower Moon (206 minutes) or Dune: Part Two (165 minutes). Even for me, 90(ish) minutes is often a cinematic sweet spot. That said, noting that rules have exceptions, You’ll Never Find Me feels like a tremendous short concept stretched thinner than translucent Silly Putty. Bell and Allen live and die by their lead performers’ abilities to keep us clenching our armrests throughout uncomfortable silences. One tight location, two nervous characters, three structured acts—that’s pretty much all there is.
Luckily, Brendan Rock and Jordan Cowan are a match made in Hell, given the skin-crawling circumstances. Whenever Cowan’s “helpless damsel” lets her guard down for a second, or Rock’s surly loner begins to believe his visitor’s story, uncertainty fuels the flames of deviance. The way Patrick pours a glass of liquor with his back turned for privacy, or the girl’s incredulous story that plants her in the middle of nowhere. Bell and Allen might extend their questionable narrative about either loneliness or captivity a bit longer than needed, delaying the clear inevitable, but it’s frequently entrancing—it’s a modern rebuttal to loving thy neighbor without knowing who they are beyond a greeting wave and domestic proximity.
Cinematographer Maxx Corkindale meets the challenge of adding spatial intrigue to Patrick’s “this will do” brand of single-man trailer. Corkindale makes the one-bedroom rectangle appear less confining, keeping up the illusion that Cowan’s drenched traveler could dash to safety should Patrick make unwanted advances. There’s also an elevating supernatural presence that brings necessary pops of genre excitement, strengthening the story’s longevity. Characters hallucinate drips of blood, figures appear in darkened bedrooms, and police lights viewed during psychotic breakdowns create a reddish-blue filter that brightens the otherwise drab bachelor’s prison. Ghostly accents are sumptuous, and disillusioned retreats into anxious minds become a flavor of visual storytelling, filling out an otherwise barebones stalemate.
You’ll Never Find Me almost feels like an experiment about the modern erosion of societal trust. Its themes and messages are clear as day despite the cover of night. Bell and Allen play with every situational expectation, from Patrick’s reclusive behaviors to the innocent young woman who seems destined for a milk carton photo. There is enough bubbling tension and otherworldly suspense to hold us at attention, even if the concept tests our patience. You’ll Never Find Me simply finds horror in humanity’s existence—but that doesn’t mean it fails to be relevant and horrifying.
Director: Josiah Allen, Indianna Bell
Writers: Indianna Bell
Starring: Brendan Rock, Jordan Cowan
Release Date: March 22, 2024 (Shudder)
Matt Donato is a Los Angeles-based film critic currently published on SlashFilm, Fangoria, Bloody Disgusting, and anywhere else he’s allowed to spread the gospel of Demon Wind. He is also a member of the Critics Choice Association. Definitely don’t feed him after midnight.