Thoroughbreds

The first time I sat down to watch Thoroughbreds, I was eating a bowl of generic-brand Cheerios that had gone tragically soggy because I got distracted by the opening shot. There is something deeply unsettling about the way Cory Finley (who also wrote the script) frames the cavernous, sterile mansion that Lily calls home. It’s the kind of house where every surface is polished to a mirror finish, yet you can practically feel the oxygen being sucked out of the room. It’s Connecticut suburban gothic—a world of high-gloss privilege where the most dangerous thing in the house isn't a weapon, but a bored teenager with no moral compass.

Two Girls, One Grudge

Released in 2018, Thoroughbreds feels like the cold, calculating younger sibling of Heathers. We meet Amanda (Olivia Cooke) and Lily (Anya Taylor-Joy), two former childhood friends who have drifted into very different lanes. Amanda is a social pariah after a particularly gruesome incident involving a horse, while Lily is the picture of prep-school perfection. The twist? Amanda has been diagnosed with a condition that leaves her incapable of feeling any emotion whatsoever. She’s not "sad" or "mad"; she’s just... empty. She has spent her life learning to mimic facial expressions like a Method actor rehearsing for a role she doesn't understand.

Olivia Cooke is a revelation here, delivering lines with a flat, terrifying pragmatism that makes your skin crawl in the best way possible. When she suggests to Lily that they should just kill Lily’s overbearing, rowing-machine-obsessed stepfather Mark (Paul Sparks), she says it with the same inflection someone might use to suggest ordering Thai food. Anya Taylor-Joy, meanwhile, is the perfect foil. Her Lily is a vibrating wire of repressed rage and anxiety, hiding behind pearls and a meticulously maintained "good girl" persona. Watching them manipulate one another is like watching a chess match where both players are secretly planning to flip the table.

The Art of the Emotionless

What strikes me most about Thoroughbreds in the context of our current "prestige indie" era is how lean it is. At 92 minutes, it’s a masterclass—wait, scratch that—it’s an incredibly sharp example of how to build tension without relying on jump scares or convoluted subplots. This was originally written as a stage play, and you can still feel those theatrical bones in the long, dialogue-heavy scenes. But Lyle Vincent’s cinematography prevents it from ever feeling "staged." The camera glides through the hallways of the mansion like a predator, capturing the symmetry and the stifling wealth that makes the girls' homicidal turn feel almost inevitable.

Then there’s the score by Erik Friedlander. It’s not your typical thriller music; it’s a rhythmic, percussive assault that sounds like someone banging on hollow logs and scraping metal. It creates a Pavlovian response where you start to feel anxious the moment the drums kick in. It fits the "contemporary" vibe of 2018 perfectly—a time when A24 and Focus Features were leaning into these hyper-stylized, "elevated" genre pieces that prioritized atmosphere over traditional scares.

A Bittersweet Farewell

I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention Anton Yelchin. Playing Tim, a low-level drug dealer with delusions of grandeur who gets blackmailed into the girls' scheme, this was one of his final roles before his tragic passing. He brings a frantic, sweaty energy to the film that provides much-needed levity. Tim is a "tough guy" who is clearly outclassed by two teenage girls who have never known a day of true hardship, and Yelchin’s performance is a heartbreaking reminder of the immense range we lost. He’s bumbling, pathetic, and oddly sympathetic in a movie populated by predators.

The film didn’t exactly set the box office on fire, barely clawing back half of its $5 million budget. It’s one of those titles that slipped through the cracks of the 2018 release calendar, overshadowed by the massive franchise machines. But it’s found a second life on streaming, where its cynical take on the "eat the rich" subgenre feels even more relevant now than it did five years ago. It’s a movie that understands that true sociopathy doesn't always look like a monster; sometimes it just looks like a girl in a rowing blazer.

Thoroughbreds is a sharp, jagged little pill of a movie. It’s mean-spirited, impeccably dressed, and features two of the best young actresses of their generation firing on all cylinders. While the ending might feel a bit abrupt for those looking for a traditional "thriller" payoff, the psychological fallout of the final ten minutes stayed with me long after I’d finished my soggy cereal. If you like your dramas with a side of ice-cold cynicism and a dash of suburban dread, this is one horse you should definitely bet on.