MONOLITH

This is a gorgeously constructed slow-burn thriller, making great use of its single location. This giant house with its exposed glass windows looking out on the desolate Australian landscape (or worse still, the pitch-black night sky) often gives you the sense of something foreboding, that something is lurking just around the corner of its cold concrete interior or just out of sight on the horizon outside. For the film's run time, it's almost entirely unpleasant in the most effective way possible. Sullivan is the only character to appear on camera, with others introduced into her life and on the podcast via her phone. This also adds to the degree of isolation you experience, while the impact of the caller on the other end of the line is frequently akin to scary stories around a campfire.

It also speaks volumes as to the degree of skill offered up by Sullivan. On camera for some 98 per cent of the screen time, she makes this film what it is. Foremost establishing her character as a somewhat privileged, somewhat damaged, somewhat desperate individual, she has to try to hold herself together as the story begins to unravel. It's a huge credit that this is played with such subtlety and nuance, and could have been applied much more heavy-handedly. Sullivan truly works wonders in balancing her character's headstrong desire to pursue the story - to simultaneously redeem herself and gain acclaim - and her growing fear over who or what is behind the mystery.

Sullivan is supported by Lucy Campbell's truly unique premise and Matt Vesely's direction. The screenplay starts out so grounded in reality that it's almost impossible to fathom the story taking such a slow yet steady shift into the sci-fi genre, a move so perfectly paced that in hindsight it feels completely natural. There's one moment in particular when the penny drops and Sullivan's character comes to a realisation about the potential origins of the bricks, which to me was so wickedly satiating. Similarly, Vesely's work isn't wasteful for a moment, and teamed with director of photography Michael Tessari ('Awoken'), they find new and interesting ways of showing off capturing the podcast, the growing paranoia as the stories of the bricks pile up, and the claustrophobia as things get personal.

With a small budget, the Australian team behind 'Monolith' have achieved a monumental feat. Delivering an undercurrent of discomfort throughout through a story with an unexpectedly fresh sci-fi twist, it's a slow-burn thriller that's well worth the journey. Who knows - it may also stop you from opening deliveries to your home for the rest of your life.