When it comes to modern horror, few studios have built a reputation quite like A24. Their latest release, Undertone, directed by Ian Tuason and produced in partnership with Black Fawn Films, Kino, and Slaterverse Pictures, hit theaters on March 13, 2026, with a wave of anticipation and a marketing campaign that leaned hard into the film’s unique auditory experience. But as audiences and critics have quickly discovered, Undertone is a film that divides opinion—sometimes sharply.
At its core, Undertone tells the story of Evy, played by Nina Kiri (known for her roles in The Handmaid’s Tale and Out Standing), a young woman who returns to her childhood home to care for her elderly, dying mother, portrayed by Michèle Duquet. Evy finds solace and distraction in hosting a podcast with her longtime best friend Justin (Adam DiMarco, from Overcompensating and The White Lotus). While Evy plays the skeptic, Justin, now living in the U.K., brings a sense of belief and curiosity, especially after receiving a series of eerie voice recordings via a cryptic email. The pair’s podcast episode, recorded during the witching hour at Evy’s home, becomes the unsettling focal point of the film’s narrative.
According to a review published on March 26, 2026, in SLUG Magazine, the film’s initial cut, screened at Sundance’s Midnight program, left a lasting impression. The reviewer recounted, “I have not been that scared at a late-night screening since Hereditary came out… My resting heart rate is normally at 69 (nice) BPM, but during my first viewing of Undertone, it got all the way up to 111. I held my breath until the credits rolled and squashed myself into a ball on Broadway’s tiny blue chairs.” That visceral reaction, reminiscent of the best in the genre, was, however, tempered by the experience of seeing the theatrical cut.
Here’s where things get interesting: the Undertone that audiences are seeing in theaters isn’t quite the same film that debuted at Sundance earlier this year. The reviewer noted that “a few small edits” made to the final release “change the film’s overall scare factor so completely.” Specifically, the film’s climax and falling action, which had been meticulously crafted by first-time director Ian Tuason, were altered in ways that, for some, diminished the emotional and psychological impact of the story. New footage intercut at the end, intended perhaps to clarify or intensify the film’s resolution, instead “feels completely unnecessary,” according to the review, as the original’s reliance on sound was already more than enough to unsettle viewers.
Indeed, much of the film’s marketing—and its critical acclaim—centers around its 93-minute runtime being an “auditory experience.” The sound design, particularly during the film’s most harrowing moments, is both a technical and narrative feat. The reviewer emphasized the importance of seeing Undertone in a theater that takes audio seriously, singling out Broadway Centre Cinemas for praise: “If you go, see this flick in a theater that cares (one more time for people in the back, BROADWAY CENTRE CINEMAS) about how the audio is supposed to be fed to you. You will surely not regret it, though you might regret the sense of dread and unease it fills your cranium with.” Even those who might “despise podcasts” are warned: this film may just turn them into audiophiles.
Thematically, Undertone is more than just a ghost story or a clever exercise in sound design. Beneath its chilling surface, the film grapples with heavy issues—postpartum depression and the generational trauma passed from mothers to daughters. The reviewer speculated that the changes made to the theatrical cut may not have been the director’s choice: “I just strongly do not feel in my heart that the creative genius that Ian Tuason displayed during my initial viewing of Undertone would allow changes that so heavily inhibit the story he was trying to tell—more specifically his story of post-partum depression and generational trauma mothers often pass down to their daughters unknowingly, which oftentimes leads to a never-ending cycle throughout the entirety of a single family tree.”
Yet, not everyone was so moved by Undertone. Another review, published the same day, took a much dimmer view of the film’s merits. The reviewer admitted to being a “very smart movie watcher,” someone who usually picks up on a director’s intentions. But with Undertone, they confessed, “That is not an experience I had… I found this movie to be a slow slog that, to be fair, does pick up in the final 10 minutes, but that does not make up for a lackluster first 80 minutes. All atmosphere, no substance.”
This critic compared Undertone unfavorably to other “elevated horror” films like Jordan Peele’s Get Out and It Follows, suggesting that while those films managed to balance atmosphere with narrative substance, Undertone fell short. “It’s hard, not impossible, but hard, to make a good ‘elevated horror’ experience,” the reviewer wrote, noting that while the final moments of the film offered some payoff, the journey there was not worth the wait. The review was accompanied by a spoiler-free podcast discussion, in which the reviewer and a co-host spent about an hour dissecting the movie and comparing it to other, in their view, more successful films in the genre.
With such polarized responses, it’s clear that Undertone is not a film for everyone. Some will be drawn to its technical artistry and the way it uses sound to unsettle and disturb. Others may find its pacing and narrative choices alienating or underwhelming. But whether you’re a horror aficionado or a casual moviegoer, there’s no denying that Undertone is sparking conversation—about the nature of fear, the power of sound, and the ways in which stories about trauma and family can be told on screen.
Ultimately, Undertone stands as one of 2026’s most talked-about horror releases, not just for what it puts on the screen, but for what it makes audiences feel—and, perhaps, what it makes them debate long after the credits have rolled.