The Haunted Frequency: A Deep Dive Into Undertone’s Paranormal Sound Design
Radio has long been a medium that triggers the imagination, and horror has historically thrived in its invisible spaces. Fast forward to today, podcasts stand as the modern frontier of that same psychological playground. Undertone, a paranormal horror film, smartly leverages this intersection of old and new, using sound not as background, but as a living, nerve-wracking presence that threatens the edges of every scene.
Where Audio is the True Antagonist
The heart of the movie centers around Evy (Nina Kiri), an isolated woman caring for her dying mother. Her only real bridge to the outside world is her podcast, aptly named The Undertone, where she co-hosts with Justin (Adam DiMarco). Their show, produced across continents, explores true crime and paranormal stories — a clear nod to the global podcast obsession. Yet unlike many films that simply use podcasts as set dressing, Undertone is relentless in making the act of listening itself an act of mounting terror.
Director Ian Tuason has a remarkable handle on both visual and auditory space. Each shot is meticulously composed, compelling the audience to sift through shadows and corners for threats. But the real mastery lies in the sound design: distorted children’s songs, crackling static, and the nerve-jangling pauses between words, all mixed to perfection to maximize tension. This heightened sonic landscape immerses viewers, forcing their ears into a hyper-vigilant state. For fans of audio-driven horror, it’s a masterclass.
Complex Characters in an Uncanny Podcast Reality
Evy’s dynamic as a podcaster is immediately striking for its skepticism—a trait in direct conflict with her co-host Justin’s zealous belief in the supernatural. Their real-time reactions to a series of ominous audio files sent by an anonymous emailer provide genuine chills. The recordings begin innocently enough—a husband trying to capture his wife’s sleep-talking—but soon devolve into something far more sinister. Justin’s insistence on hearing hidden messages in the noise heightens the tension, while Evy’s skeptical retorts only fuel the dread for the audience.
However, beneath the film’s polished craft, the script sometimes feels undercooked. The podcast scenes, for all their promise, occasionally stumble into unintentional comedy; conversations can come off as awkwardly casual or downright implausible. For example, both hosts seem unprepared when discussing their cases, Googling information on the fly, a move that can baffle anyone familiar with modern podcast production.
The Immersive Power—and Occasional Pitfalls—of Sound
Where Undertone succeeds is in embodying the slim line between psychological paranoia and bona fide hauntings. The film keeps the audience guessing: Are the horrors merely the symptoms of Evy’s sleep deprivation, or is something truly paranormal manipulating the airwaves? The movie’s visual focus on religious icons—Jesus, the Virgin Mary—layered with its advanced sound mixing, only intensifies the sense that every hum and shiver in the quiet could signal the coming of something unholy.
Yet the movie’s commitment to isolating Evy in her environment creates both mood and narrative challenges. Rarely do we see another character interact with her outside the world of audio, and her relationships beyond the microphone—like the fragile romance with Darren—feel underdeveloped. Still, this creative choice underlines Evy’s increasing obsession with, and entrapment by, her own show.
Is It Real, or Is It Just Good Audio?
For all its strengths, Undertone sometimes sacrifices authenticity for horror tropes, particularly in its depiction of podcasting. While the film captures the lonely, liminal feeling of those 3 a.m. recording sessions, the podcast logistics can be bizarrely out of touch with reality. There’s little sense of actual audience impact or the behind-the-scenes intricacies that podcast listeners and creators have come to expect from contemporary media.
However, none of this erases the fact that Undertone delivers a potent, technically impressive experience for horror fans and audio enthusiasts alike. With its obsession over sound, willingness to stay in the silence, and refusal to spoon-feed jump scares, it stands out from typical horror fare—and poses a fresh, modern question: in the digital age, are we truly alone when we listen?
