There was a time when the erotic thriller was a late-night cable staple, full of sultry intrigue, shadowy romances, and slow-burning tension that led to shocking reveals.  The Dead Thing teases a return to that era, promising the throwback sensuality and psychological unease of Basic Instinct and The Last Seduction.  But after a seductive first act, it unravels into something more frustrating than thrilling, a film that—much like its title—never quite comes to life.

Blu Hunt (The New Mutants) takes center stage as Alex, a young woman drifting through a series of unfulfilling encounters until she meets Kyle (Ben Smith-Petersen, Barbie).  Their connection is instant, intoxicating, and just off-kilter enough to be unsettling.  But before their relationship can deepen (past a one-night stand), Kyle ghosts her—only for Alex to see him out on a date with another girl weeks later and, when confronted, having no memory of her.  What begins as a mind-bending mystery soon spirals into obsession, paranoia, and something far more sinister.

Stories about the fragility of perception and memory can be deeply compelling, but The Dead Thing struggles to stretch its intriguing premise into a feature-length experience.  Director Elric Kane, working from a script co-written with Webb Wilcoxen, leans heavily on atmosphere.  Dimly lit interiors, an eerie, ever-present score, and Ioana Vasile’s moody cinematography create a world where reality feels just out of reach.  But mood alone isn’t enough to sustain the film, especially when its central mystery becomes more convoluted than compelling.

Hunt delivers an admirably committed performance, capturing Alex’s descent into paranoia with conviction.  She’s at her best when the film fully basks in its psychological horror elements, but the script keeps undercutting its own tension, as if unsure what kind of movie it wants to be.  Smith-Petersen—who shot his scenes while working as a stunt performer on Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga—is serviceable as the enigmatic Kyle, but his character is too murky to invest in fully.  Meanwhile, supporting players like Katherine Hughes (Me and Earl and the Dying Girl) as Alex’s roommate Kara and John Karna (Lady Bird) and Joey Millin (Threshold) as her purposefully bland coworkers do what they can, but their presence often feels like filler rather than a meaningful addition to the story.

One of the film’s biggest frustrations is how it handles its core mystery.  The Dead Thing positions itself as an erotic thriller, yet it hesitates to embrace the genre’s trademarks.  Instead of escalating the stakes, it meanders, losing sight of the tension that made its opening act so effectively tantalizing.  Kane and Wilcoxen seem poised to comment on modern dating culture—the search for authentic connection in an increasingly artificial world, the lengths people go to preserve a perfect moment—but rather than committing to these ideas, the film settles for being a moderately stylish, ultimately trivial genre exercise.

That’s not to say The Dead Thing is without flashes of intrigue.  The chemistry between Alex and Kyle is occasionally electric, and certain moments suggest a sharper, more tightly wound film lurking beneath the surface.  Michael Krassner and Robin Vining’s score tries to elevate these sequences, injecting energy where the script lacks it, but even the best musical cues can’t fully mask the film’s pacing issues.

Premiering on Shudder, The Dead Thing feels more like an exercise in frustration than a satisfying genre throwback.  It lacks the dangerous allure of its predecessors, settling for moodiness over genuine eroticism or suspense.  Hunt’s performance stands out, and there are glimpses of something more compelling, but they’re not enough to overcome the film’s narrative inertia.  It’s the kind of movie you’ll wish had been as bold and provocative as its premise suggested, but instead, it lingers in the shadows—never fully coming to life.