There’s a quiet sense of dread running through Pretty Thing, the kind that builds scene by scene without needing to scream for your attention. Written by Jack Donnelly and directed by Justin Kelly, the film delves into power, obsession, and the complex territory that lies between desire and control. It’s a slow burn, but it does so with purpose.
Alicia Silverstone stars as Sophie, a high-level pharmaceutical executive who’s spent years learning how to keep everything around her tightly managed. Her marriage is quiet, her job is demanding, and she keeps people at arm’s length. So, when she begins an affair with a younger man named Elliot (Karl Glusman), it doesn’t feel like a reckless move; it is a calculated one. She knows what she’s doing. Or at least she thinks she does.
The first half of Pretty Thing leans into the chemistry between Silverstone and Glusman. It’s fast, physical, and just slightly off. Elliot seems too available, too eager to please. Sophie is cautious but curious. It’s not love, and no one pretends it is. But as the relationship deepens, the tone shifts. Elliot becomes unpredictable and controlling. He starts showing up unannounced, asking questions that sound like accusations. Sophie, who’s always been the one holding the strings, begins to lose her grip. Even in scenes that feel mundane on the surface, there’s a sense that something is always slightly off-kilter.
Silverstone gives a performance that doesn’t rely on big swings. She’s sharp and restrained, letting cracks show only when absolutely necessary. Sophie isn’t naive; she’s just stuck. Watching her try to stay composed as the walls close in is where the film finds most of its tension. It’s not about panic; it’s about calculation.
Alicia Silverstone and Karl Glusman face off in a quietly intense moment from Pretty Thing.
“Elliot becomes unpredictable and controlling…Sophie, who’s always been the one holding the strings, begins to lose her grip.”
Glusman brings just enough ambiguity to keep things interesting. He never pushes Elliot too far into cliché. He’s intense, sure, but also quiet, even sympathetic at times. That’s what makes him dangerous. You can see how someone like Sophie would let him in, and how quickly she’d regret it.
Pretty Thing maintains a minimalist and clean style. The production design leans on glass, neutral tones, and spaces that feel cold even when they’re full. It reflects Sophie’s world, sterile, efficient, and deeply isolating. The cinematography is equally controlled, often lingering just long enough to let a moment turn sour. Even moments of intimacy feel distant, as if observed through a pane of glass.
There are no dramatic confrontations or explosive reveals. The film trusts the audience to sit in the discomfort and connect the dots. Conversations feel clipped and formal, more like negotiations than exchanges. The screenplay, written by Jack Donnelly, avoids overexplaining anything. It’s more interested in mood than in answers.
What makes Pretty Thing stick is how grounded it feels. It doesn’t lean on plot twists or genre tropes. Instead, it shows how a woman who’s spent her life staying one step ahead can still be caught off guard by someone who knows how to play the same game. This isn’t a cautionary tale or a morality play. It’s just a sharp, unsettling look at what happens when intimacy becomes a weapon and no one walks away clean.
"…doesn't lean on plot twists or genre tropes."
