Affection - Review
I didn’t expect this film to mess with my head the way it did.
Affection is quiet, unassuming, and devastating — the kind of psychological horror that sinks in deep and doesn’t let go.
Brooklyn Horror Film Festival
Writer/director BT Meza builds a world that feels just slightly out of phase — close enough to reality to recognize, but off in a way you can’t quite name. And in the middle of it is Ellie Carter, a woman whose life resets itself without warning. Memory is a moving target, and truth is something she has to piece together before it slips away again.
Ellie’s world is domestic and terrifying. Every day, she wakes up next to a man she’s told is her husband. A child calls her “mom.” None of it feels right. And that friction — between what she’s being told and what her body seems to remember — creates this constant low-level dread. Meza doesn’t lean on cheap tricks or exposition dumps. He trusts atmosphere, and it pays off. You’re not just watching Ellie’s confusion — you’re in it with her.
She also gets these pretty creepy seizures, but they’re not the real horror. The real horror is the feeling of being gaslit by your own reality. Who are you, if your memories don’t stick? How do you know what love is, if everyone keeps telling you you're safe — and you still feel afraid?
The film is deeply restrained, almost minimal at times, but that’s part of what makes it work. It reminded me a little of Jonathan Glazer’s Under the Skin — not in subject, but in mood. Cold, precise, quietly devastating. Meza’s direction doesn’t overreach. Every choice feels intentional, from the sterile lighting to the way the camera lingers just a few beats too long, like it’s waiting for you to notice something that isn't quite right.
The performance at the center — I won’t spoil it by naming — is incredible. So much of the film depends on micro-reactions and it works very well
Ellie’s condition is repetitive. Her life has become a loop with no exit. The film forces you to feel that disorientation, to sit in it until it becomes unbearable. And then, slowly, it starts to crack open.
Affection isn’t flashy. It’s not going to hold your hand or tell you what to feel. But it will get under your skin.