Pretty Thing (2025) Parents Guide

Pretty Thing (2025) Review:

There’s something unnervingly quiet about Pretty Thing like a whisper that lingers too long, a look that lasts just a beat past comfortable. You think it’s just another sexy little thriller, maybe even a throwback to those early ’90s Fatal Attraction-style entanglements. But by the time the credits roll, what you’re left with isn’t salacious shock. It’s a chill. A quiet, lingering unease that feels surprisingly… sad.

Jack Donnelly, in his feature-length screenwriting debut, digs into something far murkier than a simple story of obsession. This isn’t just a tale of an older woman seducing a younger man or a fling spiraling out of control — it’s about emotional hunger, self-delusion, and the deeply human (and deeply dangerous) need to feel chosen.

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Directed by Justin Kelly (King Cobra, JT LeRoy), Pretty Thing takes its time. It builds not with jump scares or overwrought confrontations, but with glances, silences, and the slow erosion of fantasy. It’s moody, sexy, and quietly suffocating in all the right ways.

The Story & What It Tries to Say

The film follows Elliot (Karl Glusman), a thirtysomething man stuck in a kind of suspended adolescence. He still lives at home with his anxious, agoraphobic mother, Peggy (played with twitchy warmth by Catherine Curtin), and he’s trapped in a dead-end catering job that forces him to serve food to people he both envies and quietly resents. Life for Elliot isn’t happening it’s drifting.

Then, at a party, he meets Sophie (Alicia Silverstone), a polished, self-assured marketing executive who exudes control and sexual confidence. She notices him. That alone is enough to shake Elliot’s reality. When they share a joint in an alley, then a bed at a hotel, Elliot is unmoored. This isn’t just a hookup to him it’s a revelation.

But here’s the catch: Sophie wasn’t looking for a revelation. She was just looking for a thrill. A break from her world. Something temporary.

The film plays with that imbalance from the jump. Sophie’s nonchalance becomes Elliot’s fixation. When she calls him again inviting him to Paris, of all places it’s like tossing gasoline onto a fire he didn’t even know he had inside him. Suddenly, Elliot isn’t just a man who had a good night. He’s someone who believes he’s found the thing that will finally give his life meaning. And that’s where the danger begins.

As the film moves forward, it starts peeling away the layers of their connection or rather, their misconnection. Elliot begins trying to fold Sophie into his world, even introducing her to his friends and family, hoping to transition what he believes is a fantasy into reality. But Sophie isn’t interested in being “folded into” anything. She isn’t malicious, but she’s detached. And that indifference cuts deeper than cruelty ever could.

Then the story does something unexpected it pivots. It starts showing us Sophie’s point of view. Her life, her loneliness, her reasons. It doesn’t excuse her, but it humanizes her. And suddenly, what seemed like a story about male obsession starts feeling like something much more complex: a mutual collision between two emotionally damaged people, both clinging to each other for reasons they don’t fully understand.

It’s not about who’s right or wrong it’s about what happens when two people project so much onto each other that the real humans underneath get crushed by the weight.

Performances & Characters

Karl Glusman, best known for roles in edgy, sexually charged films like Love and Nocturnal Animals, is perfectly cast as Elliot. He’s not your typical leading man he’s twitchy, inward, and soft-spoken but that’s the point. He gives Elliot a kind of aching awkwardness, a boyish hope that slowly curdles into paranoia. There are moments when you want to shake him, and others when your heart breaks for him. That duality is what makes the performance land.

But it’s Alicia Silverstone who really steals the show. She’s having a quiet career renaissance lately, and Pretty Thing might be one of her best turns yet. Her Sophie is elegant, smart, emotionally walled-off, and utterly believable as someone who’s used to getting what she wants and surprised when it starts costing her more than expected. Silverstone never overplays it. She lets the sadness peek out in stolen glances and pauses. You can tell Sophie isn’t heartless just tired. Of everything.

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Their chemistry is… complicated. And that’s what makes it work. There’s an immediate spark, but also an imbalance the kind that starts hot and quickly turns volatile. As they drift further apart emotionally, the sexual charge doesn’t dissipate it gets tainted. You feel the shift, and it’s uncomfortable in all the right ways.

Catherine Curtin as Peggy adds another layer to the story. She’s not just a nagging mother she’s a woman stuck in her own anxiety loop, terrified of losing her son to the world. Her presence reminds us how deeply codependent Elliot is, and how badly he wants to break free even if he has no idea how.

Direction, Visuals & Pacing

Justin Kelly isn’t interested in cheap thrills. His direction here is restrained, moody, and surprisingly intimate. He lets the tension unfold naturally, never forcing it, never rushing it. The sex scenes are steamy, but not gratuitous they feel raw, uncertain, human. There’s a vulnerability to how the camera lingers, how it pulls back when things feel too real.

Visually, the film shifts with the story. Early scenes are warm, glowing with possibility. But as things deteriorate, the palette cools. Paris, often portrayed as romantic and lush, feels isolating here wide shots of Elliot alone in beautiful spaces emphasize just how out of place he is. The cinematography subtly mirrors the emotional journey: the closer Elliot thinks he’s getting, the more distant everything feels.

The pacing may test some viewers. It’s a slow burn, and Kelly doesn’t seem interested in explosive payoffs. But that’s kind of the point. This isn’t a story about a dramatic betrayal it’s about slow emotional erosion. And Kelly trusts the audience enough to sit in that discomfort.

Pretty Thing (2025) Parents Guide

Sexual Content & Nudity: This film is definitely not for young teens. It opens with adult sexuality front and center—a passionate, visually explicit encounter between Elliot and Sophie. It’s framed with real emotional stakes, not just titillation, but it is steamy, with prolonged scenes that hold your gaze. There’s no explicit nudity for nudity’s sake, but the sexual vulnerability and power play are central to the story—sometimes raw, often charged, and not shy about holding your attention.

Language: Expect moderate to strong language. The dialogue isn’t cluttered with profanity, but it crops up at key emotional moments—heightening tension and conveying frustration. It tracks with the emotional arc, so when things get rough, the language gets real. Families sensitive to stronger words should be aware.

Violence & Tension: There’s no overt violence—no gun fights, no gore—but the film does build unease. The tension is psychological: silent panic, unsettling looks, emotional outbursts. You won’t see blood or physical brutality, but at times, the emotional atmosphere is taut enough to make hearts race. Teens who scare easily might feel anxious.

Substance Use: A bit of drug and alcohol use where it fits the characters—a joint in an alley, a drink to calm nerves. It serves the story, underscoring Elliot’s escape and Sophie’s detached indulgence. Not heavy, but definitely present.

Final Thoughts & Recommendation

Pretty Thing is a film about projection. About what we see in others or want to see and how dangerous it becomes when we mistake that illusion for truth. It’s about how quickly desire can become dependency, how loneliness can make us reckless, and how emotional damage when left unchecked — doesn’t just hurt us, it swallows us whole.

Pretty Thing isn’t “family‑friendly,” but played thoughtfully, it can spark meaningful conversations about relationships, emotional growth, and the danger of placing fantasies on real people. It’s a psychological mood more than it is a thriller. If you’d watch a slow-burn indie exploring love’s blurry lines—and can talk openly afterward—this one has meat on its bones. But for younger or more sensitive viewers, it’s better saved for another time.