I love an opening title sequence.  There, I’ve said it, and now you know.  I think there is an art to proper opening credits on TV and in film, and while not every movie needs a complete rundown, there is something deliciously retro about seeing one nowadays.  From the start, Don’t Move signals that it wants to set a mood, bringing us back to the golden age of 1970s horror thrillers when simplicity was masterfully used to create unbearable tension.  Think Wait Until Dark, but instead of a small apartment, we’re thrust into one of California’s wide-open yet suffocating forests. And like the unforgettable shock of Psycho’s iconic shower scene, Don’t Move reclaims the forgotten art of the gasp-inducing opener, quickly setting the tone for a relentless thrill ride.

This suspense gem (premiering on Netflix and showing at the 15th Annual Twin Cities Film Fest) transforms Big Sur’s majestic forests into a pine-needle-filled deathtrap as we follow Iris (Kelsey Asbille), a woman forced into a desperate fight for survival after a mysterious assailant injects her with a paralytic agent.  The twist?  She has just 20 minutes before her body completely shuts down. The clock isn’t just ticking—it’s screaming at her to get as far away from her attacker as possible.  Director Brian Netto reteams with Adam Schinder, known for his highly underrated 2015 thriller Intruders, for a return to horror with a tight, no-frills story that capitalizes on every second of its premise.

Grieving the loss of a child, Iris comes to a cliffside in the mountains early one morning for solace.  Is she there to mourn?  Is she there to jump in a desperate attempt to join her son?  We aren’t sure and don’t have much time to ponder it because Richard (Finn Wittrock, Deep Water) shows up and senses what we have been feeling.  Both open up about the recent pain in their lives, and Iris briefly begins to trust Richard enough to walk back to her car with him.  That’s when he pounces.

It’s all so simple, and the film’s brilliance lies in that straightforwardness.  Schindler and Netto frame the open wilderness as a dangerous labyrinth, where every snap of a twig or rustle of leaves adds to the mounting dread.  Thriving on the primal fear of helplessness in unknown territory, Don’t Move focuses on Iris as she races against time, her body turning against her with every stumbling step.  Desperate to escape Richard, Iris risks further injury in the woods as she first drags herself to a hiding place and then attempts to revive herself from the drug in enough time to evade her would-be killer.

Showcasing raw, physical acting that draws you into her shoes—or rather, into her body—as it begins to shut down, Asbille delivers a powerhouse performance.  Every movement and every breath feel earned as Iris’s descent from shock to survival mode creates a fascinating dynamic between strength and helplessness.  Wittrock has played these roles before, requiring a chilling charisma, and he exudes the right level of threat to make Iris (and us) fear him but understand that he’s as human as she is and can be hurt once her strength returns.  Without pulling focus from the central characters, Daniel Francis and Moray Treadwell provide crucial emotional grounding in their supporting roles.

Back to that opening credit sequence, it’s aided by a score composed by Mark Korven and Michelle Osis that pulses with a sneaking intensity that mirrors the ticking countdown Iris faces, always lurking in the background but never overwhelming the action onscreen.  The sound design, in general, is integral to the sustained suspense, amplifying the tension and reminding the audience that Iris is freed and trapped by the wilderness surrounding her.  The refuge she seeks as she flees the initial attack eventually becomes her prison when her body shuts down.

Don’t Move was such a pleasant surprise.  It is far more enjoyable than your typical survival thriller because it is willing to take risks.  When you think you know where the story is headed, it turns sharply into darker, more startling territory.  The final act delivers twists achieved rather than contrived, building toward a satisfyingly brutal conclusion. With a lean runtime, the film wastes no second on pointless fodder, with every sequence feeling like a carefully crafted cog of a well-oiled scare machine.

Sam Raimi’s producing touch is evident throughout (he also produced Don’t Breathe…hmmm, do you see a pattern?), especially in the film’s pacing and practical effects.  This film understands less is often more—except when it comes to tension.  Then, more is definitely more. Don’t Move joins the ranks of recent horror successes that prove innovation doesn’t require complexity, only precision and a deep understanding of what truly scares us in a real-world setting.

A ferocious, fast-paced thriller that doesn’t let you rest from the moment it begins, Don’t Move shows Schindler and Netto’s skill at wringing tension from simplicity. Led by a pair of dynamite performances, it starts with a gasp, so it’s fitting that it leaves you breathless.