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.