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(Popcorn Frights Review) ALAN AT NIGHT Turns the Bad Roommate Nightmare into a Found Footage Horror

By Professor Horror

                                                                                   

If you’ve ever had a bad roommate, you know it’s a special kind of hell. I once had one who spent nearly every waking moment in her bedroom, to the point that she cooked in there with an electric kettle. When she was done with her “meal,” she’d either flush the leftovers down the toilet or let them fester on the counter for days. Needless to say, she didn’t last long in my house and thankfully so. After watching Jesse Swenson’s ALAN AT NIGHT at Popcorn Frights, I’m just relieved our time together ended before she started hoarding jars of pee in her room… or worse.

Swenson’s directorial debut follows Jay (Joseph Basquill) and Camilo (Jorge Felipe Guevara), best friends and co-creators of a small-time prank channel called Rad Apple. They’re the kind of guys who think leaving fake condoms in mail rooms or eating an entire block of cheese counts as top-tier comedy. When Camilo loses his job and moves out, Jay needs someone to cover the rent for a single month until his girlfriend Samantha (Hadley Durkee) moves in. That’s when Alan Whitehead (Chris Ash), a shy herpetologist (the study of snakes, not herpes), answers the ad. At first, Alan seems like an ideal, if socially awkward, subletter because he is helpful, quiet, and polite. Then the nights start to get noisy.

Alan’s snoring isn’t just loud…it’s unnaturally loud. The noises are an inhuman rasp that rattles Jay awake. Curious (and sensing potential for viral content), Jay starts filming him while he sleeps. And as their month-long stint progresses, the footage only gets stranger: Alan’s eyes open mid-slumber and appear pure white, as if he is possessed. And after a party, where they coax him into drinking too much, Alan’s behavior escalates into unsettling territory as he begins sleepwalking, inhaling jars of mayonnaise, and emitting a stench that slowly overtakes the apartment. Jay responds by installing hidden cameras throughout the place, documenting Alan’s every move for Rad Apple’s growing audience. On paper, Alan might seem like the roommate from hell, but Swenson’s film cleverly complicates the question of who the “bad roommate” really is. Sure, Alan’s nocturnal habits are unnerving, but Jay and Camilo’s decision to exploit him for views (posting videos without consent, mocking him to an audience) makes them equally culpable. They’re willing to erode Alan’s dignity for clicks, and in doing so, they become far more predatory than their so-called “creepy” roommate.

                                           

ALAN AT NIGHT works best as a satire of our “everything is content” era, where invasive documentation is normalized in the pursuit of likes and followers. Basquill and Guevara are perfectly cast as the kind of affable-but-obnoxious internet personalities who blur the line between friendship and exploitation. Ash, meanwhile, delivers a layered performance as Alan, transforming from a timid oddball to an unpredictable and menacing presence without ever tipping fully into caricature. Stylistically, the film blends found footage, mockumentary, and podcast framing, which keeps the narrative visually engaging while reinforcing its themes of mediated reality. The POV camerawork pulls you directly into Jay’s paranoia, while animated sequences and podcast interludes add bursts of humor. It’s an energetic approach that helps mask the fact that the middle act can sag a bit, with some repetitive beats and a few roommate-gone-wild gags that don’t quite land. However, when Swenson leans into the horror-comedy balance, ALAN AT NIGHT finds its groove. The final act, with its creature-feature overtones and practical effects, is a riot that is both tense and absurd in equal measure. It’s the kind of ending that retroactively boosts everything that came before it and sends you out with a grin and maybe a whiff of something foul in your imagination.

Faults aside, this is one of the most purely enjoyable films I’ve caught at the fest so far. Anyone who’s ever endured an inconsiderate roommate will feel that creeping recognition as Jay and Camilo tiptoe down their hallway at night, camera in hand, unsure what fresh horror they’re about to catch on tape. ALAN AT NIGHT transforms the bad-roommate experience into a sharp commentary on influencer culture, showing how constant surveillance turns everyday annoyances into unsettling, often absurd, spectacles. While my own situation was more of an annoyance and ended fairly unceremoniously, this film is a funny and at times surprisingly tense riff on the trope, boosted by a gleefully unhinged finale. It might not reinvent found footage horror, but it’s a festival crowd-pleaser where you’ll have to choose if you are #TeamJay or #TeamAlan.