In Nomine Umbrae

[Image description: a tumblr text post, edited blackout-poetry stye to read, "do not give up writing. there will be a story."]

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Because you cannot tell me that the kid who spent a summer meticulously crafting a 1:1 recreation of a demolished Texas mall for a psychological horror series on YouTube and who put so much time and effort into thinking about the psychology of The Oldest View….

…just so happened to skimp on dialogue and purpose for his cinematic debut film.

If you came away from the backrooms movie going “well there were plot and character moments in there that weren’t really explored and went nowhere” I am telling you that you are not paying attention.

This is one of those films where every line of dialogue, every odd thing you see in a frame, every unusual moment and shot composition, has a purpose and reason for being there.

And it’s not the film’s fault if you don’t wanna put in the effort to try and piece together what’s going on.

Now I’m not saying that makes it an inherently better film or something. You can still dislike it if you want. Taste is subjective. But it IS the type of movie that you get more out of the more you spend thinking about it than if you just brush off any weird moment or thing you didn’t understand as “weak writing.”

Like, I cannot stop thinking about the film and the more I do the more connections and moments I find that flesh out the world and the characters to me. Even the most innocuous little details are suddenly starting to make sense and offer up insight into the larger picture of this world…and it’s leading me to go down this conspiracy theory rabbit hole that makes its connection to the YouTube series even wilder and existentially creepier imo.

1. Slow down at emotionally important moments.

Big emotions need space to land. If a scene feels rushed, pause the plot briefly to show how the moment affects the character.

2. Add reactions, not explanations.

Instead of explaining what a character feels, show it through physical responses, hesitation, or small actions that reveal emotion naturally.

3. Ground every scene in the senses.

If a scene feels thin, add one or two sensory details—sound, texture, smell, or temperature—to make the moment feel lived-in.

4. Let thoughts interrupt action.

A line of internal thought can deepen a scene without slowing it too much. Thoughts show stakes, fear, longing, or conflict beneath the action.

5. Expand consequences, not events.

You don’t need more things to happen—you need to show what matters. Focus on how events change relationships, decisions, or self-perception.

6. Strengthen setting where emotion peaks.

The environment should echo or contrast the emotion of the scene. Setting is not decoration—it’s emotional reinforcement.

7. Add specific details instead of general ones.

Underwriting often relies on vague language. Swap “they argued” for one sharp line of dialogue or a specific breaking point.

8. Let dialogue breathe.

Short dialogue exchanges without pauses can feel flat. Add beats—silence, gestures, interruptions—to give the conversation weight.

9. Show transitions between scenes.

If scenes jump too quickly, readers feel disoriented. A brief transition helps establish time, mood, and emotional continuity.

10. Clarify stakes early in the scene.

If readers don’t know what can be lost, scenes feel empty. Make sure the character wants something specific and fears losing it.

11. Use the “what are they feeling right now?” check.

After each major beat, ask what emotion is dominant in that moment. If it’s missing on the page, the scene is likely underwritten.

12. Expand scenes that feel “too clean.”