FANTASIA25 REVIEW: 노이즈 [Noise] [2025]

Rating: NR | Runtime: 93 minutes
Release Date: June 25th, 2025 (South Korea)
Studio: Finecut
Director(s): Kim Soo-jin
Writer(s): Lee Je-hui

This place is like a spider web of grudges.

Something is definitely wrong in Ju-hee’s (Han Soo-a) apartment complex and it’s not just a neighbor stomping their feet. (Although this is a major problem with high-density urban housing infrastruture in South Korea.) Yes, the walls and floors are thin, but could normal sounds truly drive someone insane? Because that’s what’s occurring with those who can hear it and those who can’t. And it’s not just that Ju-young (Lee Sun-bin) is partially deaf as a result of a car accident that she can’t corroborate her sister’s obvious pain. If the racket was truly as insufferable as Ju-hee says, her hearing aids would definitely pick it up. No, it’s her sister’s increasing rage that ultimately forces Ju-young to leave.

The guilt upon discovering Ju-hee has disappeared therefore proves too much. If Ju-young hadn’t moved to a factory dorm, her sister might still be slamming a broom into the ceiling. So, she takes off from work to return and find out what happened since the authorities are unable to act on anything without hard evidence. It doesn’t matter that threatening notes are left on the door. Or that the tenant below them in 504 (Ryu Kyung-soo) has sinisterly demanded Ju-young be quiet in the middle of the night. More than police ineptitude, however, this layer of Teflon surrounding the complex seems self-made thanks to the building manager’s (Baek Joo-Hee) campaign to silence all troubling rumors in hopes the government passes her reconstruction budget.

Kim Soo-jin’s feature debut Noise (written by Lee Je-hui) has a lot going on as a result. There’s the mystery of finding Ju-hee that’s undertaken by Ju-young and the former’s boyfriend (Kim Min-seok). There’s the history marred by tragedy hidden within the building’s dark recesses that only 804 (Jeon Ik-ryeong) is willing to share if Ju-young keeps her voice down. And there’s the thumping sounds, electronic wails, and mumbled gibberish that Ju-hee heard and that now reaches her sister’s ears with its original target gone. Is a supernatural entity or ghost out for blood and vengeance? Is there a cover-up unfolding under the watchful eye of the complex’s executive board? Could there even be a known murderer on the loose?

While I enjoy the multiple paths the script takes for distraction and complexity, the tapestry formed does suffer from its convolution once we see more than we hear. Because the moment a death occurs as a result of one of those three questions being answered, another gets answered in a way that forces us to question the first. It’s one thing to have multiple layers of intrigue and aggression working in tandem, but it’s another to have them negating each other in the process. I found myself disengaging because it felt like the filmmakers were simply cutting threads when it suited their current ambition. They do eventually pick some back up later, but even that feels more like the product of convenience rather than elegant storytelling.

Whereas Noise may suffer from structural issues, however, it excels at creating suspense. 504 is a menacing figure with his deadpan dialogue and robotic movements. The specter of a woman in silhouette always watching is sufficiently creepy. And the rotting creature that seemingly hunts them all (whether in reality or their minds) delivers some really nice scares (I loved the scene of its shadowy movements behind fogged glass). Add the dread looming from a broken basement window housing years of unsanctioned garbage and this building’s scale increases the horror quotient by constantly expanding beyond just Ju-hee’s unit 604. Because she wasn’t the only one going crazy. Not in the present nor the past.

I only wish the red herrings were tidier. Some of the lore could have been uncovered earlier so it didn’t always feel instantly activated as a replacement for what came before it rather than an augmentation. The supernatural portion could have also been better explained so its violence didn’t seem so separated from the human violence that I constantly wondered if I missed something (this also contributed to the grief theme feeling clunky and incomplete). Otherwise, the performances are great (especially Lee Sun-bin and Jeon Ik-ryeong), the gore is memorable, and the sound design will have you thinking your ears are bleeding like those on-screen. The pieces might ultimately eclipse the whole, but they’re good enough to make the imperfect marriage a worthwhile experience.