We have all traversed liminal spaces. As a child, I can remember wandering through the halls of St. Anthony’s Hospital in St. Petersburg in the middle of the night during one of my father’s many health episodes. My memory of that evening is undoubtedly warped: dimmed corridor lights; patient doors slightly ajar, the vague sound of some late-night movie mingling with the beeping of machines keeping track of basic vitals; the vacant hospital cafeteria with communal tables and the obligatory bank of vending machines for afterhours visitors. I may have even stumbled upon the hospital chapel at some point, though I doubt I would have been brave enough to enter it alone.
All these spaces seem perfectly normal during daytime hours, teeming with people. At night, a distinct lack of habitation makes them strikingly otherworldly. While there may be nothing discernably different about the environment, something feels off.
By definition, a liminal space is a place of transition, existing in between points of departure and arrival. They are intermediate areas meant to be navigated, not inhabited. Yet, the liminal space aesthetic often evokes a sense of foreboding and uncanniness. It triggers apprehension because it disrupts expectation, rooting us in a milieu between what was and what comes next.
Liminal spaces aren’t exactly a new device in the horror genre. Think about Danny Torrance (Danny Lloyd) racing through the endless, empty corridors of the Overlook Hotel in Stanley Kubrick’s adaptation of Stephen King’s “The Shining” (1980). Think of Mary Henry (Candace Hilligoss) and the abandoned pavilion on the shores of the Great Salt Lake in “Carnival of Souls” (1962). In classic weird horror literature, for examples of liminal spaces look to Arthur Machen’s “The White People,” William Hope Hodgson’s “The House on the Borderland,” and Algernon Blackwood’s “The Willows.”
The idea of liminal spaces has recently become a popular topic of conversation thanks mostly to YouTuber Kane Parsons, who began developing the web series “Backrooms” when he was about 16 years old. The first video, “The Backrooms (Found Footage),” was released on his YouTube channel in January 2022. This 9-minute video currently has more than 80 million views. The viral series combined with Parsons’ ability to successfully cultivate a complex and compelling narrative from an internet creepypasta led to a movie deal with A24.
Directed by Parsons and written by Will Soodik, “Backrooms” was released in theaters on May 29. It blends horror, science fiction and visual surrealism in a way that is genuinely innovative and challenging. Parsons emphasizes atmosphere over action, constructing an elaborate tapestry of escalating anxiety. With its calculated visual monotony and uncanny architecture, “Backrooms” ensnares the viewer in a liminal space that arouses both claustrophobic panic and existential dread.
The film’s official synopsis is somewhat less than illuminating: “A strange doorway appears in the basement of a furniture showroom.” The furniture store is owned by Clark (Chiwetel Ejiofor). Clark’s entire world is in flux: His wife kicked him out of their house. His business is failing. He is living on the showroom floor. He is struggling with alcoholism and anger management issues. His dreams of becoming architect have been abandoned.
Clark is operating in survival mode, mostly moving through time on autopilot. Dr. Mary Kline (Renate Reinsve), Clark’s therapist, encourages him to escape stagnation through personal growth. Though he expresses his desire for something better, he finds it difficult to break away from the unfulfilling patterns that consume him. He refuses to accept personal responsibility for all the things that have gone terribly wrong in his life.
In a short prologue, the viewer gets a glimpse of “the Backrooms,” best described as an extradimensional, potentially boundless network of empty, untenanted rooms. The prologue informs us that expeditions to the place date back to the 1990s.
One night, Clark accidentally stumbles upon a hidden doorway leading to the Backrooms. He begins exploring the dreamlike landscape with a mix of curiosity and trepidation. It quickly becomes evident that he is not alone, and he initially retreats. His inquisitiveness is too strong to resist, so he subsequently returns and starts mapping the rooms. When he shares his findings with Mary, she is skeptical. Clark vows to bring her proof of the Backrooms, and recruits Kat (Lukita Maxwell), Clark’s employee; and Bobby (Finn Bennett), Kat’s boyfriend who has access to a handheld camcorder. The three soon enter the Backrooms — and, as you might imagine, things do not go well.
“Backrooms” may not appease horror fans who prefer fast-paced storytelling, slasher flicks, and traditional creature features. For those familiar with Parsons’ web series, some of the story may feel repetitive. While the disconcerting setting is exquisitely rendered, some physical effects are neither convincing nor frightening. That is more a critique of the execution rather than the concept.
So, it isn’t perfect — but this is Parsons’ directorial debut. “Backrooms” is still uniquely mesmerizing. It is mind-bending, disturbing, perplexing, and timely. It is a visionary, outside-the-box experiment that rewards viewers with an unhinged, nightmarish spectacle. Parsons delivers a slow-burn experience that gradually ratchets up the tension through exploiting psychological vulnerabilities.
Oh: Don’t expect a tidy, definitive resolution. Horror relies upon a fear of the unknown and the unknowable. Just as “Backrooms” takes advantage of liminal spaces, it utilizes the psychological engine of entrenched uncertainty to amplify dread. Its state of ambiguity is an essential component.
Lee Clark Zumpe is entertainment editor at Tampa Bay Newspapers, a Tomatometer-Approved Critic, and an author of short fiction. He can be reached by email at lzumpe@TBNweekly.com.