Nancy

Christina Choe’s “Nancy” is an unsettling yet deeply human exploration of identity, loneliness, and the need for connection. Set against a backdrop of cold, muted colours and slow, deliberate pacing, the film unfolds like a quiet storm, leaving a profound impact.

Andrea Riseborough delivers an outstanding performance as Nancy. From the very first frame, the film establishes an atmosphere of alienation. Nancy lives a monotonous and solitary life, trapped in a small, drab house with her ailing, abusive mother. She spends her days working temp jobs and weaving intricate online fantasies, where she assumes new identities in search of connection. 

Her pathological need for love and acceptance leads her to contact a grieving couple, Ellen and Leo, who believe she may be their long-lost daughter. This fragile hope is the closest thing to a Christmas miracle in the film, wrapped in doubt and despair.

The film thrives on its stark realism, amplified by cinematographer Zoë White’s cold, muted palette. The oppressive grey skies and shadowy interiors mirror Nancy’s emotional void. This visual language feels distinct, and close-up shots capture every flicker of desperation and fear on her face. The eerie score, reminiscent of horror films, intensifies the tension, giving the film an almost ghostly vibe. Yet, amidst the dread, acts of kindness from strangers - however small - shine through, offering glimmers of warmth.

Steve Buscemi and J. Smith-Cameron are heartbreakingly authentic as Leo and Ellen, the grieving parents who welcome her into their lives with cautious hope. Their performances ground the film in painful reality, serving as a poignant counterpoint to Nancy’s fluid grasp of truth.

This film is less about the plot and more about the emotional terrain it traverses - grief, isolation, and the desperate human need to belong. While the film avoids overt horror tropes, it lingers in the uncanny space between reality and fabrication, where trust dissolves and identity blurs.

“Nancy” masterfully intertwines themes of grief, identity, and the need for family, especially during the holidays. It’s an uncomfortable watch, as Nancy’s lies spiral into painful truths about loss and the human need for belonging. Choe’s choice to linger on faces and emotions forces the viewer into Nancy’s world of isolation and yearning, making it impossible to look away.

Choe’s screenplay is razor-sharp yet leaves room for mystery, much like Nancy herself. The movie resists easy answers, ending on a note that is as devastating as it is inevitable. It’s a masterclass in understated tension, proving that the scariest monsters are often the ones lurking inside us.

A poignant yet harrowing reminder of the fragility of identity, “Nancy” is both a Christmas tale of longing and a chilling psychological study. It’s not an easy watch, but it’s an unforgettable one.

For fans of slow-burn psychological drama and films that challenge perception, “Nancy” is a chilling exploration of the fragile line between truth and self-deception. It’s a hauntingly human horror, and its ghost will linger long after the credits roll.