1BR by Jonny Numb

As someone who’s never owned a home, apartment-based movies have always resonated with me. I consider Polanski’s “Apartment Trilogy” one of the unified masterpieces of cinema, because – from Repulsion to Rosemary’s Baby to The Tenant – he captures not only the dread of characters who are “different,” but the ominous nuances within the banality of friendly facades. Now, 1BR attempts to find a fresh angle on the dark side of moving into a shared space.

The setup is as old as Hollywood itself: Sarah (Nicole Brydon Bloom) leaves the confines of her father’s home to pursue a dream of being a costume designer within the silver screen dream factory. She finds a place that seems too good to be true, and quickly moves into the titular apartment. There are ominous signs, though: why is everybody so friendly? And what’s with the uneven, plastered-over spots on the wall?

Capturing Unease

1BR is beholden to a long list of predecessors, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. I’ve argued many times that it’s not whom you borrow from, but what you do with those borrowed elements. And the important thing is, writer-director David Marmor uses his influences knowingly. If there’s a recognizable nod to another film, it’s firmly in service to the plot and/or characters.

Without giving anything away, the tone recalls both versions of The Toolbox Murders, playing up the reality-based elements of Dennis Donnelly’s 1978 original, and some of the fantastical touches of Tobe Hooper’s 2004 remake. Both of those films took place in Los Angeles, and each apartment complex possessed its own distinct mood. 1BR is particularly good at establishing a sense of mystery in the early going. In this case, “what does it all mean?” is a question the viewer should be asking.

I like how Marmor captures the unease that accompanies setting up a life in a new location. Having moved recently myself, some of the paranoia Sarah feels echoed my own. The first couple nights, in which her sleep is disrupted by strange noises in the neighboring apartment, feels very true to life. And when a threatening letter appears under her door (she’s smuggled in her cat, despite a “no pets” policy), things take a paranoid turn.

Multi-Layered Performances

Turns out there’s a philosophy behind the complex, one Marmor builds on with each subsequent scene. For most of the run time, I kept wondering which direction the plot would turn. Predictability is one of the death knells of horror, so it’s admirable how 1BR doesn’t devolve into lazy storytelling.

A big part of the film’s overall success is its cast: Bloom is excellent as Sarah, nailing the physical and psychological tribulations of the character. It’s a hard-hitting performance that carries the film through a wobbly third act. Meanwhile, Taylor Nichols (as Jerry, the landlord) looks like a cross between Jackie Earle Haley and Tim Blake Nelson, and also possesses their affinity for playing intense, unconventional characters. I also liked Susan Davis as Miss Stanhope, the complex’s eldest resident – her turn reminded me a little of Ann Miller in Mulholland Drive. Most recognizable to horror fans will be American Horror Story’s Naomi Grossman, who brings a certain shiftiness to her scenes (her forced, “hospitable” grin becomes another unsettling tic of veiled motivation).

Even when it offers too great a peek behind the curtain of its mysterious motives, there’s much to like about 1BR. Marmor’s direction is smooth, and the cast gives their all to make the story as plausible as possible. The ending is full of sequel potential, and I’ll admit I could be swayed by the prospect of 2BR. Why not?

3 out of 5 stars