The 1970s birthed an entire subgenre of films that channeled America’s growing unease with itself, transforming sun-bleached suburban landscapes into breeding grounds for nameless terrors.  The most obvious example of this is Tobe Hooper’s masterpiece of gut-wrenching horror, 1974’s The Texas Chainsaw Massacre.  Often imitated (even today) but never matched, Hooper brutalized innocence and innocents onscreen, and the film world was never the same.  The Man in the White Van taps into this vintage well of anxiety, offering a mediocre period thriller that honors its influences while attempting to speak to modern audiences.

Set against the sweltering backdrop of the early 1970s, teenager Annie (Madison Wolfe, Joy) is facing the typical problems and societal anxiety of growing up not fitting into the perfect mold.  She longs to be noticed by the new boy in school and wishes an increasingly fraught relationship with her mother and “perfect” older sister would smooth out instead of continuing to wrinkle at the wrong moments.  Her already complicated family dynamics spiral into darker territory when she clocks a suspicious white van shadowing her movements around town.  

A rising fear that something terrible will happen holds no weight with her parents (Ali Larter and Sean Astin), who dismiss her concerns as teenage dramatics.  Of course, we’ve been treated to multiple flashbacks as the film unspools, showing us that Annie and her family should be very afraid of the man in the white van because he’s killed before and is waiting to strike when she is most vulnerable.  Her helplessness of being disbelieved when danger lurks drives the narrative forward, even as the film sometimes loses its way in the telling.

A Legion M production (the first entertainment studio to allow non-Hollywood insiders to invest in a project, creating what is essentially a fan-funded film), The Man in the White Van distinguishes itself in its commitment to character development, though sometimes to its detriment. Considerable time is invested in establishing the fractured relationships between Annie, her goody-goody sister Margaret (Brec Bassinger, 47 Meters Down: Uncaged), and her strict mother. While this imperfect family portrait adds an appreciated depth to the proceedings, it stalls the precious momentum and build-up of tension, which should be the sole focus in the second half.  Director Warren Skeels and co-writer Sharon Y. Cobb seem torn between crafting a taught thriller and exploring deeper family dynamics, resulting in a runtime that eventually tests the audience’s patience.

Thankfully, the saving grace is an admirably strong cast of young talent who carry the emotional weight quite nicely.  Wolfe is compellingly determined as Annie, undaunted by those in her life refusing to believe her worries and remaining on the lookout for the trouble that seems to be circling her friend and family group.  Wolfe and Bassigner’s sibling dynamics are also notable; we’ve all seen the familiar thread of feuding sisters before where one appears to be valued above the other, but there’s something in the connection formed between the actresses that gives it an extra sting of believability. 

I also liked Skai Jackson as Annie’s friend Patty, and had there not been a gruesome killer stalking them, I would have enjoyed more time seeing this friendship explored further (the two girls travel to a school party on horseback…so enviably quaint!)  The adult performers, however, including genre veterans Larter and Astin (The Invisible Raptor), seem somewhat constrained by their roles as skeptical authority figures.

Produced on a noticeably limited budget, the film’s period aesthetics deserve some level of praise.  Convincingly evoking the era with subtle touches of clothing or set dressings, what the filmmakers couldn’t recreate in locations or vehicles they do a good job keeping out of our line of sight. This careful attention to design choices also creates an authentic backdrop for the unfolding mystery.  When the story focuses on its strengths – specifically Annie’s creeping fear that something terrible is descending upon her – The Man in the White Van captures the best parts of those classic ’70s chillers that taught us to fear empty parking lots and quiet suburbs.

For viewers willing to navigate through some narrative detours, The Man in the White Van delivers a satisfying blend of retro scares and contemporary storytelling.  Capitalizing on the fear we all have of being dismissed when we know something is wrong, Skeels shows a steady hand with atmosphere and tension, even if the pacing occasionally meanders.  The story has an unsettling connection to reality, too. Inspired by the crimes of Billy Mansfield Jr., a convicted killer of at least five people in Florida throughout the 1970s and 1980s, you’ll feel lingering flickers of this one long after you’ve exited The Man in the White Van.  While it may not break new ground in the thriller genre, it leaves enough of a mark to make it a respectable addition to the canon of stalked-by-a-stranger suspense films.