Oddity Finds Its Fear in Silence and Waiting

 

 

by Tara Adams
The Creature Beat

(This is the first installment of an occasional series that discusses some of my favorite modern horror movies.)

From the beginning, Oddity makes space feel unsafe. Silence, stillness, and long stretches of waiting turn ordinary rooms into sources of tension.

The film was written and directed by Damian McCarthy, who has built a reputation for slow-burn horror that relies on atmosphere and control. Oddity, released in 2024, was shot in Ireland, grounding its creeping dread in isolated, old-stone settings that are both tangible and quietly unsettling.

After a young woman is murdered in a remote home, her blind sister, who claims to sense the past through personal items, begins to investigate what really happened. As she inserts herself into the lives of those connected to the death, the film slowly reveals how grief, guilt, and belief collide, turning a private tragedy into something far more unsettling.

Silence does a lot of the work in Oddity. The scares aren't rushed. Instead, the film lets still rooms, unanswered questions, and long pauses build a sense of unease that grows stronger as the movie goes on.

It achieves these elements without announcing itself as a reinvention of the genre, and that's among the reasons I like it so much.

I'm a big fan of horror films that build their scares slowly, relying less on sudden shocks (even though I do enjoy a good jump scare) and more on the steady sense that something is wrong. Oddity nails this.  

Scenes linger longer than expected. Rooms sit quiet. The camera often stays still, forcing viewers to look at empty spaces and wait. 

That waiting becomes integral. 

The fear in Oddity comes not from what appears on screen, but from what might.

The story itself is straightforward, delving into a violent death, unanswered questions, and a woman with a rare ability to sense the unseen. 

Instead of piling on twists or explanations, the film lets the situation speak for itself. Supernatural elements are treated as facts of the world, not puzzles to be solved. That approach gives the horror weight.

Much of the tension comes from the setting. The house at the center of the film is isolating and exposed at the same time. Long hallways, dark corners, and open rooms create a sense that danger could creep out from anywhere. The film makes clear what characters cannot see, which becomes as important as what they can.

Each unsettling moment in the film is set up carefully, often through silence or stillness. There is little reliance on loud music or quick cuts. The effect is more unsettling than startling, and it lingers.

The creepiness in Oddity isn't rushed. It doesn’t explain everything, but it assumes the audience is paying attention and is willing to sit with discomfort. By the end, the film has done very little overtly, but what it does stays with you. That control is what makes Oddity scary and uncommon. It trusts that less can still be enough.