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Synopsis: “Two couples’ daring foray into open relationships leads them down a tumultuous path of jealousy, betrayal, and heartbreak.”

Erotic thrillers are a genre that I have very little knowledge of, outside of the most popular of them, so it’s been a goal of mine to seek out films this year that are outside of my normal scope. Bight is just that. Co-written, directed, and starring Maiara Walsh, it’s an ambitious feature debut that aims high. Although the film has bondage, sex, and its fair share of steamy moments, it’s not overdone and allows for a story about disconnected lovers finding themselves again. While its camerawork and editing overshadow a dialogue-heavy script, it’s an enticing watch that rarely gives us space to breathe.

As the film opens, it’s instantly noticeable that there’s a rift between businesswoman Charlie (Walsh) and her artsy husband Atticus (Cameron Cowperthwaite). Charlie’s phone is constantly ringing, with work nagging at her about the best Instagram layout for their new lingerie drop, and Atticus roams their home looking for spots to hang photos, sparking an argument between them. Once head-over-heels lovers and partners, they are now getting irritated at the sights and sounds of one another. But a flicker of their love can be seen when Atticus recounts a time when they were happy, a time when they were both willing to take risks to keep their passion and love alive. The pair have plans at a friend’s party later, and not just any friend, but one with whom they both share a past.

Both are in for a surprise when they arrive at the home of their photographer friend Sebastian (Mark Hapka) and artist Naomi (Maya Stojan) to find out that they were the only people invited, which completely ruins their one-drink-and-leave idea they had prior to arriving. Sebastian and Naomi are seemingly the opposite of Charlie and Atticus, as they are open in their relationship about their desires and experiences. Their sexual attraction toward one another is practically written on their faces. While it’s an obvious parallel to the main couple, Bight lays it on thick; some will find it over the top, but arguably that’s the point. Both couples mirror each other’s issues with trust, jealousy, consent, and even desire. So when Sebastian reveals that he asked them to come for a special photoshoot, they reluctantly accept, hoping it helps heal their problems.

Being in the viewer’s seat during their shared interactions reveals to the audience what Charlie and Atticus aren’t aware of. It makes us feel like we are in on the true reasoning for the photoshoot and how that reason often shifts. As stated before, Walsh is the co-writer for this film, while her movie husband, Cowperthwaite, is the film’s other writer. They show the intricacies of both relationships and how consent one time doesn’t mean consent always, especially in open relationships. Both writers make sure that they tie each scene together well, with the film’s opening sequence directly tying to the events of the third act.

Bight doesn’t delve too deeply into eroticism in a predictable way, and its use highlights faults in both relationships. Sure, the film has its fair share of sex and flirts with showing more, but it’s not the main driver of the film. Its tactfulness amplifies the script, even when the script becomes repetitive, mainly between Atticus and Naomi, where their shared past is shown in flashbacks and dialogue when the visuals suffice more than enough. Conflicts are dragged out with wordy exposition that doesn’t feel natural. And while the film has gory aspects, mostly in the final act, it’s effective, throwing in yet another twist for Charlie and Atticus.

What totally knocked me away about Bight is the film’s final moments. Without spoiling, it is where the writing, directing, and acting are at their best. With the use of bondage, it’s easy to feel uncomfortable if that’s not your thing, but it’s used to show the importance of consent in open BDSM relationships. For both couples, they’ve made mistakes in their sexual lives, not always being faithful or going beyond agreed-upon terms. This is where Bight shows that just because consent is given once doesn’t mean it’s always going to be, leading to bloodthirsty acts in the guise of art and passion.

Bight excels with its visuals, capturing a distinct language through the lens with its use of bold colors and how it shows the power dynamics of both relationships through its cinematography. Red is used throughout the film: blood washing off in the shower, the ropes used to partake in bondage, hallway lights leading to Sebastian’s studio, and even the paint that both artists use. A color that is hard to ignore, it leaves an impact each time it’s used. Petros Antoniadis’ way of framing amplifies a lower-budget feature into something more lavish, and when he shows Sebastian and Naomi looming over their counterparts, it reveals motivations through angles alone. The use of tight shots on faces gives a sense of the control they both have over Charlie and her husband. If you’re watching for a visual storytelling aspect, then Bight is the film for you.

All in all, Bight is a promising debut from a female director who has an eye for style and an understanding of complex themes. Not every chord strikes the correct tune, but the willingness that the cast and crew have to make an erotic thriller, when more and more audiences are shying away from sex, makes Bight more than worth checking out. With a voyeuristic lens and unpredictable twists, Walsh and Cowperthwaite give 2026 a solid thriller that excites.

Bight is available on digital platforms from Scatena & Rosner Films.

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