I watched Southbound (Rotten Tomatoes) on a rainy Tuesday with the lights off and my phone face down. My cat ignored me, which felt rude, because I kept jumping. Halfway through, I paused to check the front door. Twice. You know what? I don’t even feel silly about it.
This movie is a set of short horror stories that all happen on the same lonely highway in the desert. They slide into each other so smooth that you don’t see the seams. It’s dusty, mean, and weird in a way that stuck to me like gas station coffee. For a little production trivia (and a spoiler-free rundown of how the anthology pieces fit together), the film’s Wikipedia entry is a handy companion.
What It Feels Like
Think road trip, but the road hates you. Neon signs buzz. A radio DJ whispers like he knows your secrets. The sky looks tired. It’s not loud-screamy horror all the time; it’s more of a tight grip on your shoulder. Then, bam—blood. And then, quiet again.
The music hums low, like an engine idling. The voice of the DJ (yep, that voice you swear you’ve heard before) ties the whole ride together. I loved those little slips in and out of the radio. It felt like someone was driving, and I was just along for the ride. If twisted radio transmissions creep you out, my breakdown of Pontypool explains why that single-location broadcast can melt your brain in the best way.
The Stories That Stuck To My Brain
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The Accident: A guy hits a girl with his car. He calls for help, and they guide him to this empty hospital. He gets told—over the phone—how to do surgery. With what? Whatever he can find. I had to breathe slow during this one. The sound of the saw, the wet floor, the lights that flicker wrong—it all feels too real. I actually spilled my soda here. True story.
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Siren: A girl band breaks down and gets picked up by a sweet older couple. Dinner looks great. The smiles look… not great. When the door locks, your stomach drops. I liked how normal it seems, until it doesn’t. The masks people wear—literal and not—gave me the creeps.
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Jailbreak: A man storms into a small town bar with a gun. He wants his sister back. The town doesn’t blink. I liked the neon glow and the bar chatter that felt fake on purpose, like a play where all the actors know something you don’t. The ending felt odd, but that’s kind of the point.
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The Way In / The Way Out: A home invasion with three masked men. Then it circles to two tired guys on the road who can’t leave that road no matter how many turns they take. The creatures that hang in the sky—like long, floating bone things—aren’t on screen much, but when they show up, oh man. I got goosebumps. It gave me the same savage rush I felt during You’re Next, so home-invasion junkies should eat it up.
I rewound twice just to see how one story became the next. There’s a shot with a door closing that turns into a new scene, and it’s slick. Film nerd candy, but still easy to follow. For an even geekier, spoiler-stuffed chat about those edits, I put together this longer Southbound piece that dissects every transition.
My Watch Setup (Because That Matters)
- Time: late, after the dishwasher stopped.
- Lights: off, except one tiny lamp in the kitchen. Big mistake.
- Sound: soundbar on, bass turned up a notch. You’ll want that engine rumble.
- Snack: cola, ice clinking. I did the nervous sip thing.
If you’re in the mood for something louder and grimier once the credits roll, I always cue up Rob Zombie’s Halloween as a messy palate-cleanser.
Small tip: watch it in one go. It’s a loop, so breaks mess with the rhythm.
What Worked For Me
- The pace moves fast, no long boring backstory.
- Practical effects that feel sticky and real.
- The radio DJ thread—very clever glue.
- Seamless hand-offs between stories.
- That hospital segment? A gnarly little masterpiece.
What Bugged Me (A Bit)
- Some folks are thin as characters. You don’t always get who they are.
- A few CGI bits look soft under bright light.
- One segment (Jailbreak) stumbles near the end; vibes great, logic wobbly.
None of that ruined the ride for me. But yeah, I noticed.
Little Things I Loved
- The motel ice machine hum. Don’t ask me why; it just hit.
- Dust on the diner windows.
- License plates that feel like clues.
- The DJ’s calm voice after something awful—like a bedtime story for people who can’t sleep.
And hey, I swear I heard a tiny sound cue right before the loop closes. Like a wink. I smiled, even though it’s bleak.
If You Like These, You’ll Be Fine Here
- V/H/S
- Creepshow
- Tales From the Crypt
- Long drives with weird radio chatter
Prefer your terror snow-covered and slow-burn instead of sun-bleached? Give We Are Still Here a spin.
If you want an even deeper cut of offbeat horror road flicks, I’ve got a running recommendation thread over at AllFlesh that you can bookmark for your next night drive.
Watch with a friend who laughs when they’re scared. If none of your usual crew picks up the phone, you could always see who’s online and up for a midnight movie; over at FuckPal’s “find a fuckbuddy tonight” page you can instantly match with nearby adults looking for a spontaneous hang—handy if you want someone to scream with and maybe warm up the couch after the credits roll. Or don’t, if you want to feel brave. I thought I was brave. I was wrong.
Rolling through Georgia on a late-night highway run and find yourself near Conyers with that same craving for company? A quick scroll through the Backpage-style Conyers listings will hook you up with locals who are also wide awake, so you can swap scary-movie war stories face-to-face instead of shouting at your Bluetooth speaker.
Content Check
It’s bloody. There’s a crash, a home invasion, and some medical stuff that made my palms sweat. If that kind of gore gets to you, skip the hospital lights, or look through your fingers like I did. If that brand of tragic supernatural brutality appeals, the mother-child chills in Mama hit a similarly raw nerve without the roadside grime.
My Take, Plain and Simple
Southbound is a mean little road movie with teeth. It doesn’t hold your hand, and it doesn’t explain much. I liked that. I finished it, sat quiet for a minute, and then I checked the locks again. Call me dramatic. I slept fine… after a podcast and a glass of water.
Score: 4 out of 5. I’ll watch it again on a cold night with pizza and the lights low. Just don’t ask me to drive through the desert after. Not happening.