Most films usually rely on the traditional three-act structure, where you have an introduction, a conflict, and finally, a resolution that ties everything together. The formula is guaranteed to work with audiences of all kinds, since our brains are actually wired to anticipate that kind of rhythm. Filmmakers all over the world use this technique of giving the viewers sudden bursts of action to retain their attention.
However, now and then, a film dares to break away from that kind of predictability and experiments with timelines or character arcs that emphasize thoughtfulness over speed. When a story isn’t rushing toward a conclusion, it’s categorized as a slow-burn, which forces you to sit with difficult emotions. If that sounds a bit too complex, here’s a list of essential slow-burn movies that will definitely change your mind.
10
‘The Shining’ (1980)
The Shining is undoubtedly one of the greatest psychological horror films ever made. However, if you really think about it, the movie defies the genre’s traditional structure and really takes its time to set the scene. In fact, many people consider the Stephen King adaptation to be too slow in the first half. That’s exactly the point, though! The Shining, directed by Stanley Kubrick, stars Jack Nicholson as Jack Torrance, a man who begins to lose his mind while serving as the winter caretaker of the isolated Overlook Hotel. What makes the film such a perfect example of the slow-burn approach is the way Kubrick builds dread through the atmosphere. You don’t immediately find out that The Overlook is haunted, and even when you do discover the hotel’s dark history, it’s kept ambiguous to an extent, just to build tension.
You can never really tell whether some supernatural forces are causing Jack’s violent outbursts or if it’s just cabin fever and alcoholism hitting him a little too hard. The score of the film is a character in itself and really adds a lot of drama to the film’s intentional pacing. Juxtaposing silence with visibly horrific scenes, such as Danny’s (Danny Lloyd) first encounter with the Grady twins, contributes to that unsettling feeling that Kubrick was so obviously going for with the film. Nicholson’s famously unhinged performance in the climax is the payoff you wait for, but it only works because of the two hours of carefully orchestrated, creeping sense of dread before it. Not to mention that the entire point of the film is to see how Jack slowly descends into madness. If that journey was rushed and overly dramatized, The Shining would have never felt as immersive an experience as it is.
9
‘Mulholland Drive’ (2001)
Another film that perfects the art of the slow-burn is David Lynch’s surrealist neo-noir mystery, Mulholland Drive. What I love about this film is that it’s not rushing to reach to a conclusion. Some might argue that the climax is the whole point of a movie, but not when the journey itself is so captivating. Lynch has a way with deliberately stretching time and making scenes feel almost unbearable at times, in a good way, of course. The plot of the film is simpler than it sounds. You have Betty (Naomi Watts), a rising actress in Los Angeles, who befriends Rita (Laura Harring), a woman suffering from amnesia after a car accident, and the two set out to find out the truth about Rita’s identity. What might sound like a typical mystery turns into this story, where timelines are fractured and the line between reality and hallucinations stops existing.
It’s almost as if Lynch wants to take the audience into a dreamlike state where they are forced to let go of logic and the concept of identity itself. This kind of pacing is nothing but deliberate, so Mulholland Drive is not the film for you if you’re looking for instant gratification. The iconic scene where a man recounts his nightmare at the diner is painstakingly slow. However, it is one of the most unsettling sequences in cinema because Lynch lets it unfold with suffocating patience. When the man finally comes face-to-face with the figure haunting him, you almost expect it, but that doesn’t make it any less terrifying. I have to appreciate Watts for her brilliant acting, because her performance is what really grounds this fantastical story. Ultimately, you don’t watch Mulholland Drive to solve a mystery, you watch to surrender yourself to the plot and whatever weird, loopy rhythm it takes.
8
‘2001: A Space Odyssey’ (1968)
Another Kubrick classic on the list is 2001: A Space Odyssey, which is one of the most influential sci-fi films of all time. Now, for a genre that’s all about technological advancement, you’d expect for the plot to be fast-paced and full of spectacle. However, Kubrick obviously turns that expectation on its head and slows things down to actually make you question what it all means. The story follows astronaut Dr. Dave Bowman (Keir Dullea) and his crew as they voyage into deep space when their ship’s computer begins to malfunction in unexplainable ways. 2001: A Space Odyssey is best described as a philosophical exploration of the relationship between humans and machines, and all the ways that could go terribly wrong. However, the heart of the story lies in the details, the lingering silences, and disorienting visuals that are meant to overwhelm the audience. The fact that Kubrick managed to create the most realistic possible version of humanity’s future before the moon landing even took place is an enigma in itself.
To this day, I find myself wondering how the director managed to accomplish some of the shots in the film back in the late 60s, given how technical they look. The sci-fi epic isn’t just about action, loud explosions, and big wins. 2001: A Space Odyssey is a story that explores the very idea of being human, without spoon-feeding you the answers. A lot of the film’s deliberately slow sequences are actually there to remind you of how quickly humans normalize the most extraordinary achievements. For example, that scene in the Pam Am shuttle where Dr. Floyd (William Sylvester) is casually napping, you have no dialogue or dramatic music to guide you on what to feel. Yet, you eventually do realize that the most thrilling part of it is that he is flying to the moon. The slow-burn is also what gives the final 20 action-packed minutes of the film such an impact. In many ways, 2001: A Space Odyssey perfectly captures the cycle of everyday life that includes long stretches of routine, sometimes interrupted by transformative events.
7
‘Alien’ (1979)
If you ask me, Ridley Scott’s Alien was a film that was way ahead of its time. The science fiction horror flick is considered to be one of the greatest films in the genre, but what people often overlook is how much it leans on its slow pace. In theory, the plot, which revolves around a space crew investigating a strange signal and unknowingly unleashing a bloodthirsty alien, had all the makings of an action-packed creature feature. However, Scott’s approach is perfect for the story. Instead of giving us 90 minutes of a violent extraterrestrial monster killing people, the director spends the first quarter of the film slowly taking us through the everyday lives of the Nostromo’s crew, which includes Ripley (Sigourney Weaver), Dallas (Tom Skerritt), Lambert (Veronica Cartwright), and others.
You wait for the high-octane drama to kick off almost immediately, as it does in most other sci-fi films, but it just doesn’t happen, and that’s the best part. We see the crew’s casual banter, the boring parts of their job, and this sense of normalcy is what makes the intrusion of the alien all the more unsettling. Alien does a great job at creating this sense of claustrophobia as the crew spends all their days surrounded by The Nostromo’s low ceilings and industrial, almost sterile environment. I actually love that Scott keeps the alien out of sight for most of the film, because by the time it appears, you are already on edge. If I’m being honest, the pacing of Alien is borderline cruel, especially with that terrifying, eerie score that accompanies it.
6
‘Drive’ (2011)
When people talk about Drive, they usually talk about that infamous scorpion jacket Ryan Gosling wore, or the unforgettable soundtrack. However, I think that the best part of this Nicolas Winding Refn-directed neo-noir is how it completely defies all expectations. The story follows Gosling, who plays an unnamed stunt driver who works as a getaway driver in his spare time. For starters, Refn’s choice not to give the lead character a name is proof of how the film is less about the driver’s backstory and more about the way he is, and the things he does. If you expected Drive to be similar to The Fast and the Furious, let me tell you that the film goes in the exact opposite direction.
Even the Driver’s relationship with his neighbor Irene (Carey Mulligan) and her young son is given so much time to develop that you start to feel like the real action is their connection, and not the high-speed car chases and loud explosions. Instead of going from one scene to the other, the film makes you slow down and reflect on what you’re witnessing in the moment. The director’s focus on the way light hits Angeles at night, or the subtle changes in Gosling’s facial expressions as he calculates his next move, makes the movie so memorable. I know not everyone loves how the story ends, but ultimately, the uncertainty of it all is the entire point of the film, because by the end, you’ve had enough time to be okay with it.
5
‘Midsommar’ (2019)
Florence Pugh’s folk horror, Midsommar, is one of the most divisive films of recent times. The film follows Pugh as Dani, an American student who goes on a trip to a rural Swedish commune for their famous midsummer festival. However, as the celebration unfolds, Dani finds herself pulled deeper into the unsettling rituals of the community. Midsommar is a slow-burn essential because of how deliberately Ari Aster has paced the story. The film is meant to be horror, but it never relies on jump scares or terrifying sound effects because the horror creeps in gradually, and before you even know it, Dani is betraying her own boyfriend just to become part of this strange world.
What begins as a story about grief slowly turns into a disturbing tale of how far one is willing to go on the quest for acceptance and belonging. That ominous final scene where Dani smiles straight into the camera is the highlight of the entire film, because of how blood-curdling yet cathartic it feels at the same time. The film’s slow pacing and gradual build-up of the cult’s strange rituals make this moment land. Dani’s descent isn’t unexpected at all. However, the horror of what she becomes doesn’t fail to hit, even with Aster laying so many breadcrumbs along the way. Midsommar’s real power is that the film tells you exactly what’s coming, while also giving you the time to start dreading it way before it actually happens. That kind of tension is enough to drive anyone insane.
4
‘Rosemary’s Baby’ (1968)
Horror films are all about the atmosphere the filmmaker manages to create with the story at hand, and Roman Polanski’s adaptation of Ira Levin’s 1967 novel, Rosemary’s Baby, is a great example of building a world that puts you on edge like no other. The film follows Rosemary Woodhouse (Mia Farrow), a young newlywed who moves into a historic Manhattan apartment building with her husband, Guy (John Cassavetes). When Rosemary and Guy conceive their first baby, though, she begins to suspect that her neighbors, and maybe even her husband, are part of a cult that wants to take away her baby.
If that isn’t a chilling premise, I don’t know what is, because the way Rosemary’s Baby captures the heightened anxiety of a mother-to-be is brilliant. The film features plenty of shots taken through doorways or from cramped corners to really take you into the main character’s apartment and how suffocating it starts to feel gradually. Farrow’s performance is obviously brilliant, and until the end, you have no idea whether she is just imagining all of this or if it’s actually happening. The climax, where you finally realize that Rosemary was right all along, is one of the greatest cinematic moments of all time, and makes the deliberate setup well worth it.
3
‘Scent of a Woman’ (1992)
Scent of a Woman is one of my favorite Al Pacino films of all time. Some might argue that the film’s iconic monologues or the famous tango scene are its standout elements, but I think that the Martin Brest directorial style really shines because of how brilliantly the drama builds up. The film takes nearly three hours to paint a picture of two very different men. First, you have Pacino as Frank Slade, a blind, retired Army lieutenant colonel, and Charlie Simms (Chris O’Donnell), a reserved prep school student who takes on the thankless job of looking after Frank over Thanksgiving. Pacino’s character is borderline unbearable in the beginning, and you feel just as out of place as Charlie does when he first starts the job.
I really like that the film doesn’t rush us into sympathising with Frank with some big backstory reveal. However, Brest builds the tension through small, offhand conversations or interactions with his family to hint at Frank’s state of mind. Many people find the film boring because essentially nothing happens for long stretches of time. However, if you ask me, that buildup pays off in the film’s grander moments, such as Frank admitting that he plans on committing suicide or the school hearing, where you can practically feel the characters’ emotions. If you cut the movie down, you lose the impact of seeing a man transform from someone who doesn’t believe life is worth living to fighting for another person’s future. That’s why Scent of a Woman has to be appreciated as more of a character study than a plot-driven drama.
2
‘The Thing’ (1982)
John Carpenter is a visionary, and his execution of the science fiction horror, The Thing, is a brilliant example of how pacing can play such an important role in storytelling. The fascinating plot of the film is set in a remote research base in Antarctica, where a group of American scientists take in a stray dog only to realize that it’s actually a terrifying alien that can copy any living being it infects. That sets the stage for a horrific premise where everyone slowly grows more and more distrustful and paranoid of the people around them. The cold emptiness of the Antarctic region only adds to the film’s sense of dread. However, the true horror comes from the idea of the characters now knowing whether the person next to them is still human or if they have been infected by the alien.
I really like that the creature isn’t lurking around every corner like it would in traditional monster films. Here, you feel its presence through the characters’ suspicions and the slightest change in someone’s mannerisms. When the monster finally does reveal itself, the grotesque body horror is shocking and unforgettable because of all that buildup beforehand. The Thing works so well as a slow-burn because that forces the audience to live under the same kind of uncertainty as the characters, where you constantly second-guess every interaction. By the time the film ends, you realize that the real terror wasn’t the alien, it was the complete collapse of trust amongst the human characters.
1
‘The Godfather’ (1972)
Anyone who thinks The Godfather is just a gangster film clearly has no idea what good cinema looks like. Francis Ford Coppola’s Godfather trilogy is a story about family, loyalty and the shockingly corrupting nature of power. The first film, though, gets a bad rep for being a little too slow. However, I’d argue that it is the ultimate slow-burn that allows you to really feel the weight of every decision the characters make. The story begins in 1945 and follows Don Vito Corleone (Marlon Brando), the head of one of New York’s most powerful mafia families. When a narcotics deal leads to an assassination attempt on Vito, his youngest son, Michael (Pacino), has to step into his father’s shoes.
The film then shows Michael’s transformation as the new Godfather over a decade, and how he becomes as ruthless as his father, despite being skeptical of his family business initially. Obviously, the film has its fair share of iconic dialogues and dramatic betrayals. However, none of that ever feels on-the-nose because that’s just how mafias work. Most of the action in the film takes place through tense conversations, awkward family dinners, and the gradual shift in Michael’s personality. I’ll be honest and admit that I wasn’t expecting him to call a hit on his enemies at his nephew’s baptism, and that was the moment I realized the ruthless leader he had transformed into. The Godfather is a masterclass in understanding that power doesn’t require constant action, it requires silence and restraint. As long as the film feels, trust me when I say that every scene informs the overall story and character arc, so the investment of time feels totally satisfying at the end.
