Fede Álvarez’s Don’t Breathe (2016) is a masterclass in tension, a thriller that thrives on the primal fear of being trapped in a predator’s lair only to discover the prey might be just as dangerous. The film’s genius lies in its economy, transforming a simple premise three young burglars breaking into a blind veteran’s home into a suffocating descent into moral ambiguity and survivalist dread. Álvarez, building on his visceral Evil Dead remake, wields silence and sound as dual weapons, crafting a sensory experience that feels both intimate and oppressive. The Detroit setting, with its decaying urban sprawl, isn’t just a backdrop but a character, its abandoned houses echoing the characters’ desperation and moral decay. Cinematographer Pedro Luque’s work is pivotal, using tight frames and dim lighting to mirror the blind man’s (Stephen Lang) disorienting world, while long takes amplify the claustrophobia of the house’s labyrinthine layout. The camera’s refusal to linger on gratuitous violence forces viewers to confront the consequences of each choice, making every creak and breath a narrative event.

Stephen Lang’s portrayal of the blind man is a revelation, his physicality conveying both vulnerability and menace. His unnamed character is no mere victim; he’s a coiled spring of rage and grief, his motivations unveiled in a chilling second-act twist that complicates the audience’s allegiance. The trio of burglars Rocky (Jane Levy), Alex (Dylan Minnette), and Money (Daniel Zovatto) are less compelling, their motivations thinly sketched beyond economic desperation. The screenplay, co-written by Álvarez and Rodo Sayagues, falters here, leaning on archetypes rather than fully fleshing out the thieves’ inner lives. Yet this flaw is overshadowed by the film’s relentless pacing and inventive use of sound design. Roque Baños’ score is sparse, letting ambient noises creaking floors, rattling pipes carry the emotional weight, a choice that heightens the film’s immersive dread.

Where Don’t Breathe stumbles is in its final act, where plausibility strains under the weight of escalating shocks. The film’s attempt to push moral boundaries feels forced at times, particularly in a controversial scene that risks sensationalism over substance. Still, Álvarez’s direction ensures these missteps don’t derail the experience. Don’t Breathe is a taut, unsettling exploration of survival and morality, its craft elevating a simple premise into something far more haunting.