Coming Home in the Dark (2021), directed by James Ashcroft, is a raw and unsettling psychological thriller from New Zealand that leaves a deep mark with its quiet intensity and bleak realism. The film is based on a short story by Owen Marshall and turns a seemingly peaceful family outing into a harrowing nightmare.
The story begins with a schoolteacher named Hoaggie, his wife, and their two sons on a road trip through the remote countryside. They stop for a picnic, where they’re suddenly confronted by two mysterious drifters—Mandrake and Tubs. What initially seems like a robbery turns into a disturbing act of violence that sets the tone for the rest of the film. Hoaggie and his wife are taken hostage, and a long, torturous night begins.
As the journey unfolds, secrets from Hoaggie's past come to light, revealing his connection to the darker corners of New Zealand’s state care system. Mandrake, a character both philosophical and sadistic, isn’t just looking for revenge—he wants Hoaggie to face the truth of what he once turned a blind eye to. The psychological tension is relentless, driven by chilling performances from Daniel Gillies and Erik Thomson.
What makes Coming Home in the Dark especially haunting is its minimalism. The landscapes are vast and quiet, the music sparse, allowing silence and implication to amplify the horror. The violence is swift and shocking, never stylized—grounding the film in brutal realism.
It’s not a traditional thriller with twists or a satisfying resolution. Instead, the film serves as a meditation on guilt, complicity, and retribution. It asks difficult moral questions: How responsible is someone who did nothing to stop evil? What does justice really look like in the face of silence?
Coming Home in the Dark is a tense, disturbing experience that doesn’t aim to comfort its viewers. It’s one of those rare films that lingers long after the credits roll—not because of what it shows, but because of what it doesn’t have to.
