You've probably seen the thumbnail on a streaming service—a kid with an unblinking, vacant stare looking down into a concrete pit. It’s unsettling. That’s John and the Hole in a nutshell. When it premiered at Sundance back in 2021, people didn't really know what to make of it. Is it a fable? A literal horror story? Or just a very, very weird look at what happens when a kid decides he’s done with his family? Honestly, it’s all of those things, and that’s exactly why we’re still talking about it years later.
The premise is deceptively simple. John, a 13-year-old living in a massive, glass-walled house that feels more like a museum than a home, finds an unfinished bunker on his family's property. One morning, he drugs his parents and his sister. He drags them to the bunker. He drops them in. And then? He just... lives. He drives the car. He eats junk food. He tries to figure out what it means to be an adult while his family is literally trapped in the ground beneath him.
What John and the Hole is actually about
Most people go into this movie expecting a "kid from hell" slasher or a psychological showdown. It isn't that. If you’re looking for Home Alone meets Funny Games, you’re going to be disappointed. Director Pascual Sisto and writer Nicolás Giacobone (who co-wrote Birdman, which explains a lot about the vibe) created something much more clinical.
The movie explores the terrifying apathy of adolescence. John isn't "evil" in the traditional sense. He doesn't scream or throw fits. He’s just profoundly curious about the mechanics of being a grown-up. He asks his father, "What is it like to be an adult?" and when he doesn't get a satisfying answer, he decides to conduct an experiment. He basically hits the pause button on his family so he can play house.
The film uses a 4:3 aspect ratio. It’s boxy. It’s cramped. Even though they live in a luxury mansion, the framing makes you feel like everyone is already in a hole, even before they get tossed into the concrete pit. It’s a deliberate choice that highlights the isolation of the upper class.
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The controversy of the "Ending" and that weird subplot
If you’ve watched it, you know there’s a frame story. Every now and then, the movie cuts away to a mother telling her young daughter a story about "John and the Hole." This is where a lot of viewers checked out. It feels disconnected. But if you look at the themes of the movie—the way children process the world and the way parents fail to prepare them for it—the subplot acts as a mirror. It suggests that John’s story might be a modern cautionary tale, a sort of grim fairy tale for the iPad generation.
When John finally lets them out, there’s no big explosion. No police. No screaming matches. The family just sits down for dinner. It’s the most haunting part of the entire film. They are so broken, or perhaps so desperate to maintain the facade of their "perfect" life, that they just keep eating. It’s deeply cynical.
Why the acting makes or breaks the experience
Charlie Shotwell, who plays John, carries the entire thing on his shoulders. He has this blankness that is incredibly hard to pull off without being boring. You’re constantly looking for a flicker of regret or malice, but it never comes. Michael C. Hall and Jennifer Ehle play the parents, and their performances are a masterclass in controlled panic.
Watching Dexter himself (Hall) be the victim for once is a trip. But he plays it with a soft, defeated quality. You realize that John’s parents have been "absent" long before they were stuck in a hole. They provided the house, the tennis lessons, and the food, but they never actually connected with their son.
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Dealing with the slow-burn pace
Let’s be real: this movie is slow. It’s what critics call "elevated horror," which is usually code for "nothing jumps out at you for ninety minutes." But the tension comes from the mundane details.
- John trying to cook risotto and failing.
- The way he invites a friend over to play a "game" where they pretend to drown each other in the pool.
- The silence of the woods.
It’s meant to be uncomfortable. It’s meant to make you squirm in your seat because John’s logic is so alien yet so strangely recognizable to anyone who remembers the weird, disconnected feeling of being thirteen.
Common misconceptions about the plot
A lot of people think John is a psychopath. Psychiatrists who have analyzed characters like this often point out that psychopathy usually involves a lack of empathy paired with a desire for power or gain. John doesn't really want power. He wants to know "how it feels." He’s searching for a sensation that his sterile life hasn't provided.
Another big question: How did he move three grown people? The movie shows him using a pulley system and drugs (Ativan). It’s physically possible, though highly improbable for a kid that size. But the movie isn't interested in being a documentary. It’s a fable. If you get hung up on the logistics of how he dragged a 180-pound man through the woods, you’re missing the forest for the trees.
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Practical ways to approach the film
If you haven't seen it yet, or if you saw it and hated it, here is how to actually digest John and the Hole:
- Watch it as a fable. Don't look for realism. Look for symbolism. The hole is the gap between generations. The house is a cage.
- Pay attention to the sound design. The wind, the hum of the refrigerator, the scraping of the ladder. It builds a sense of dread that the dialogue doesn't.
- Research the "Lily" subplot. Understanding that the story is being told by a mother who is about to abandon her own daughter (in a way) adds a massive layer of tragedy to the ending.
- Compare it to The Killing of a Sacred Deer. If you liked the cold, detached style of Yorgos Lanthimos, you’ll find a lot to appreciate here. If you hated that, stay far away from John.
The film doesn't offer easy answers. It doesn't tell you that John is going to be okay, or that the parents learned their lesson. It just shows you a family that has been fundamentally altered by a week of silence and concrete. It’s a tough watch, but for those who like their cinema to linger like a bad dream, it’s essential viewing.
To get the most out of your viewing, try watching the film in a dark room with zero distractions; the slow-burn nature of the cinematography requires your full attention to catch the subtle shifts in John's expression. After watching, read the original short story by Nicolás Giacobone titled "El Pozo" to see how the narrative evolved from the page to the screen. Comparing the two versions helps clarify some of the more ambiguous choices made in the movie's final cut.