In a cinematic year already bursting with fresh horror concepts, Rapture stands out as a haunting period piece that blends historical dread with supernatural terror. Starring Will Poulter (Midsommar, Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3) and Kit Connor (Heartstopper, Rocketman), this medieval horror thriller plunges audiences into the heart of 1348 England-a time when faith, fear, and disease walked hand-in-hand. The film is directed by Jordan Tannahill, a rising star in the theatrical world now making waves in horror cinema, and it marks the first time Poulter and Connor have reunited on screen since their fan-favorite stint in Warfare.
Set during the onset of the Black Death, Rapture follows a cloistered community of monks at a remote Yorkshire monastery. As the bubonic plague spreads across Europe like a biblical curse, the monks struggle to preserve their faith and sanity. But when the dying begin to rise-not spiritually, but physically-everything the brothers thought they knew about death, sin, and salvation is torn apart.
What begins as a period drama soon devolves into a nightmarish tale of flesh and faith. Tannahill builds the tension slowly, using candlelit interiors and Gregorian chants to create a suffocating sense of spiritual dread. But as corpses stir and moan in the crypts below, the film veers into full-blown undead terror. These are not your typical zombies-they are tormented souls seemingly resurrected by divine (or demonic) wrath.
Will Poulter plays Brother Alaric, a pragmatic and skeptical monk who begins to question God’s will when the first of the dead return with hollow eyes and violent urges. His performance is intensely physical, with moments of brutal emotional vulnerability. Opposite him, Kit Connor plays Brother Elias, a devout young scribe whose unshakable faith begins to fracture in the face of unholy resurrection. The dynamic between them becomes the heart of the film-a relationship torn between doctrine and survival.
One of the most compelling aspects of Rapture is its exploration of faith under siege. While many zombie films take place in contemporary settings, Rapture leverages its 14th-century backdrop to challenge theological assumptions. The monks' sacred texts offer no guidance for the reanimated dead. Confession, absolution, and last rites mean nothing when the corpse claws its way out of the grave.
Director Jordan Tannahill told GamesRadar: “We wanted to explore how horror intersects with institutional belief. These men have dedicated their lives to service, but what happens when that service seems meaningless? What if resurrection isn’t a gift-but a punishment?”
Tannahill’s background in experimental theater shines through in the film’s stylized imagery. Visions of apocalyptic angels, medieval woodcuts come to life, and horrific sequences of flesh being peeled from bone during confession elevate the film beyond standard genre fare. At times, Rapture feels like a dark religious hallucination made flesh.
While the supernatural takes center stage, Rapture is deeply rooted in historical authenticity. From hand-sewn habits to plague-swelled corpses, the production design captures the squalor and desperation of medieval Europe. Historians were consulted to recreate the monastery’s rituals, food, and even the dialects of the era. But instead of dry accuracy, the film uses these elements to draw the audience deeper into its grim fantasy.
The Black Death itself becomes a character in the film-a creeping, inescapable doom. The decision to place the zombie outbreak within the real-world context of one of history’s deadliest pandemics adds a chilling layer of plausibility. As the infection spreads, so too does paranoia, leading to accusations of heresy, self-flagellation, and violent schisms among the monks.
Though much of the film takes place within the cold stone walls of the monastery, Rapture doesn’t skimp on horror set-pieces. The crypt sequence-where the monks mistakenly lock the rising dead inside-is a highlight of sheer dread. The final act, when the surviving brothers must face a full-on siege by plague-infected corpses, is a masterclass in practical effects and suspenseful choreography.
The makeup work is stunning, favoring visceral detail over CGI. The infected are pale and bruised, eyes sunken into skulls, black veins spidering across their faces. Their movements are jerky yet purposeful, as though their bodies are puppeted by divine rage.
Rapture is not just a horror film-it’s a theological drama masquerading as an undead nightmare. The moral debates among the monks, the crisis of belief, and the slow dissolution of order give the film an almost Shakespearean weight. Poulter and Connor carry these themes with maturity beyond their years, their chemistry anchoring the film’s loftier philosophical questions.
While some viewers may find the pacing deliberate, others will be entranced by the slow burn. The climax delivers enough blood and fury to satisfy gorehounds, but it's the quieter moments-Brother Elias whispering prayers over a still-breathing corpse-that linger long after the credits roll.
Early reviews from festival screenings have praised Rapture for its bold genre fusion and emotional depth. Critics highlight its atmosphere, performances, and refusal to play it safe. Some compare it to The Witch or The Name of the Rose with zombies, citing its cerebral tone and grim aesthetic.
There’s even talk of awards buzz for Poulter’s performance and Tannahill’s direction. Horror fans looking for something smarter, scarier, and more spiritual than your average slasher will find a lot to love here.
As Rapture prepares for a wider release this summer, it’s poised to be one of the most talked-about horror films of 2025-a brooding meditation on death, faith, and the thin, rotting veil between salvation and damnation.
Tags: Rapture, Will Poulter, Kit Connor, zombie plague, medieval horror, Black Death, Jordan Tannahill, religious horror, 2025 horror movies, historical thriller
