This week, my Letterboxd Map journey takes me to Mongolia, where Aberrance reminds me why I should keep my curtains closed.
Title: Aberrance
Director: Baatar Batsukh
Released: August 1, 2022 (Theatrical – Mongolia)
Runtime: 1 hour 16 minutes
A woman runs through the snowy woods in a panic, seemingly trying to escape something just out of sight. We then flashback to when she and her husband first arrive at a secluded home in the middle of nowhere, hoping for a fresh start.
Not long after settling in, strange moments begin piling up around her. A crow slams against the window of her art studio. A dead animal appears near the property with a chunk bitten out of it. Her husband’s behavior grows increasingly controlling, especially surrounding the medication he insists she needs to take. Even simple interactions start carrying an uncomfortable edge, including with the neighbor who slowly starts realizing something may be very wrong inside the house next door.
As the isolation and paranoia build, the line between genuine danger and psychological instability becomes harder to read, leaving everyone trapped in a state of constant unease.
There’s a quiet confidence to Aberrance that works in its favor early on. It never relies on loud scares or over-the-top set pieces, instead choosing to build tension through silence, awkward pauses, and the feeling that something is constantly sitting just outside the frame.
A lot of that comes down to the camerawork. Whether it’s cutting between faces to capture every uneasy expression or simply letting a shot linger longer than expected, the movie creates an almost constant sense of discomfort. Rooms feel too empty. Hallways feel too still. Even when nothing actually happens, the camera keeps convincing you that something might.
The score follows a similar approach. It’s fairly restrained throughout, only stepping in when the tension needs an extra push, but when it does show up, it’s undeniably effective.
There’s also surprisingly little dialogue, which puts more pressure on the performances to sell the mood. Thankfully, the three central performances all work. The husband carries an unpredictable intensity that makes nearly every scene with him uncomfortable, while the wife feels emotionally exhausted from the moment the film begins. Even the neighbor, who could’ve easily felt underwritten, adds a nervous energy once he starts realizing the situation he may have inserted himself into.
About a third of the way through, the tension starts to bite and the atmosphere becomes much more effective. The problem is that it never fully develops into something more satisfying. The tension is strong, the technical side is impressive for such a contained film, and there are individual moments that linger, but it constantly feels like the movie is building toward something it never quite reaches.
At 76 minutes long, Aberrance moves quickly enough to stay engaging throughout, but despite the effective suspense and strong visual direction, it ends up feeling more interesting than truly memorable.
If you’ve seen Aberrance, I’d be curious to hear your thoughts on it.