Debut director James Ross II shows promise in this gore fest, but the fear factor suffers from an overly complex plot

Sleep has been part of the horror genre repertoire since The Cabinet of Dr Caligari, and the anxieties around it are spiking as the “sleep economy” becomes a thing. This ambitiously structured gore fest about a woman suffering from waking nightmares comes with an all-black cast, but race isn’t a central preoccupation here. Instead, as night terrors burst the banks into reality, debut director James Ross II concentrates on maintaining an appropriately scrambled and claustrophobic experience – perhaps to the detriment of the fear factor.

On her 15th birthday, Riley (Jasmine Mathews) is paralysed in a waking/sleep state at her foster home, able to observe but powerless to intervene to stop a care worker going berserk. Since this massacre, Riley keeps a strict sleep protocol as an adult, making sure anyone under the same roof drops off before her, which apparently protects them from the malevolent presence invading her nights. Old foster home pal David (Stephen Barrington) accepts an invitation to the house where Riley’s dad murdered her mum, but gets the willies when a pallid demon begins manifesting in the small hours. It turns out that Riley’s boyfriend, Cam (RJ Brown), has been lax in letting her fall asleep before him – and now her resident succubus is on the loose again.

Beldina Odenyo alchemised the pain of exile, loss and racism into music as Heir of the Cursed before her death in 2021, as this attentive tribute explores

Instead of an artist in a booth, a lone amplifier plays the music of singer-songwriter Beldina Odenyo for a cluster of microphones to pick up during the posthumous recording of her debut album. It is a haunting encapsulation of the absence and presence at the heart of Louise Lockwood’s documentary, which makes a commendably thorough exploration of the mental illness that led to Odenyo killing herself in November 2021, and its roots: exile, loss and racism.

Performing under the moniker Heir of the Cursed, a translation of the Tetela name of assassinated Congolese leader Patrice Lumumba, Odenyo was on the verge of bigger recognition at the end of 2021 after a successful performance at Edinburgh’s Usher Hall. But hemmed in by successive Covid lockdowns, the 31-year-old is clearly unwell in a discomfiting backstage interview. Squirming, monosyllabic, she seems to be regressing to the non-verbal state of shock in which she arrived in Dumfriesshire from Kenya as a young child.

In spite of capable performances and deployment of hygge, gothic and Nordic noir elements, you’ll search for a feasible plot or a character insight in vain

Adapted from the 2017 novel by Anna Ekberg (actually a male writing duo), this thriller from Denmark chucks in a bit of everything into the mix: hygge lakeside melodrama, manor-house gothic, and Nordic-noir corruption. But this franticness can’t disguise that it’s a dopey and facile thriller that, despite capable performances, plumbs neither its characters’ depths nor hits thematic pay dirt. It also merits a stiff investigation from the plotting police.

Despite amnesia that leaves her unable to remember her life prior to running an idyllic Norwegian rural cafe, Louise (Natalie Wolfsberg Madueño) is gearing up to get hitched to crime writer Joachim (Pål Sverre Hagen). When a tourist approaches and calls her by another name, she is sufficiently shaken to take a DNA test; it confirms she is actually Helene Söderberg, a Danish shipping heiress presumed dead, with a husband and son back home. Originally found stowed away on a cargo ship, she handed over an ID card – for Louise Anderson – which the authorities accepted. Now wanting to reclaim her identity, she pitches up on the capacious doorstep of company executive Edmund (Claes Bang), her former partner.