Then, there’s the sight of very small children growing up damaged from this violent, deadly environment. While it’s not particularly scary watching them in the second half of the film, it is unnerving to discover that Malorie refrains from calling them by their names; they’re just called “boy” and “girl,” which is basically inhumane. Growing up with no name, no personal title, and worst of all, your guardian constantly snapping at you is just below humanity. In fact, it looks abusive to us watching it on screen. But at the same time, Malorie’s borderline-militaristic parenting methods are understandable being that they’re living in a suicidal-inducing society now. This, right here, is pretty disturbing. 

Finally, the whole concept of facing the monster is almost tangible. If you look at the apocalyptic force and then die, it’s eerily similar to real-world issues. And Bird Box reminds us of that — face your fear, and you’ll pay the price. The alternative is to blindfold yourself from it all (rightfully so in this fictional case of survival) and that’s reflective of how we “survive” in reality. It’s everyone for themselves in the end, and if preventing ourselves from facing, accepting or even believing the problems in front of us means we can live, then so be it — a pretty dark mindset to have yet necessary too in this case. 

Other details and minor moments in the movie contribute to an overall perturbing story to watch: A guy forcing a victim’s eyelids open, a woman and two children blindly sailing toward safety not guaranteed, and a pregnant woman very close to either starvation or violent death. 

All in all, Bird Box succeeds in thrilling its audience even though it doesn’t haunt us in our dreams.