The worst horror film of the decade, and nothing is ever shown.
Glazer builds a domestic comedy of manners — garden parties, a new coat, a squabble about moving house — and puts the atrocity entirely in the sound design. Once you start hearing the wall you cannot stop. The cameras are locked off like security footage, so there is no directorial hand to hide behind and no sympathy on offer. That coda in the present-day museum is the boldest cut I've seen in years: it drags the whole film into the room with you. I admire it more than I could ever say I enjoyed it.