Open 24 Hours (2018): Nightmares Don’t End When the Shift Does

In the realm of horror where masked killers, haunted houses, and demonic possessions often dominate the screen, Open 24 Hours offers something more grounded—but no less terrifying. A film that thrives in psychological trauma, rainy isolation, and slow-burning tension, it delivers a gripping look at fear, survival, and the mental wounds that don’t heal easily.

Released in 2018 and directed by Padraig Reynolds, Open 24 Hours is a gritty, blood-slicked slasher that places a woman’s mind—and her night shift—at the center of the storm.

The story follows Mary, a young woman fresh out of a psychiatric institution, trying to rebuild her life after surviving a relationship with a notorious serial killer known as the Rain Ripper. He was a manipulative, sadistic monster who committed a series of brutal murders while Mary, trapped by fear and trauma, watched in silence. When she finally fought back, she set him on fire—and has been haunted ever since.

Now on parole and desperate to start over, Mary takes a graveyard shift at a remote gas station that stays open all night. It seems simple enough. But the job becomes a psychological crucible when strange occurrences begin: phone calls with no one on the line, distorted voices, power outages, and figures in the shadows. Is Mary hallucinating, or is someone—or something—actually out to finish what was started?

The more the night unravels, the more Mary is forced to confront both her past and a present soaked in paranoia and danger. The brilliance of Open 24 Hours is in its setting. A single location—a lonely gas station in the middle of nowhere—is turned into a claustrophobic battleground. Rain pours endlessly. Flickering fluorescent lights provide just enough glow to expose creeping shapes. The surrounding darkness feels like a living thing, closing in.

This confinement adds to the tension. With no one around to help and limited communication, Mary is truly alone. And when her grip on reality starts to fray, that solitude becomes a silent enemy.

Leading the film is Vanessa Grasse, who delivers a strong, emotionally grounded performance as Mary. She is not a stereotypical horror victim—she is vulnerable but resilient, broken but not destroyed. Grasse plays her with restraint, letting fear simmer beneath the surface rather than boil over in hysterics. Her quiet strength and slowly mounting anxiety give the film its pulse.

As the night deepens, Mary becomes more than just a woman in distress—she becomes a survivor trying to hold onto her sanity in the face of real and imagined horrors.

The Rain Ripper, played with chilling detachment by Cole Vigue, never fully leaves the screen—even when he’s not present. He exists in Mary's memories, in phone calls that may not be real, and in the blood-stained hallucinations that blur past and present. The film doesn’t just rely on cheap jump scares—it builds suspense by feeding the audience fragments of truth, forcing us to question Mary’s reality right alongside her.

And when the violence arrives, it is sharp and savage. The film doesn’t shy away from brutality, especially in the final act. It’s not over-the-top gore for the sake of shock—it’s raw, grim, and part of the psychological breakdown that defines the story’s climax.

At its core, Open 24 Hours isn’t just about surviving a killer—it’s about surviving yourself. Mary’s greatest enemy isn’t just the Rain Ripper—it’s her mind, her guilt, and the way society views victims. The film raises questions about blame, complicity, and whether someone who didn’t physically commit a crime is still scarred by it.

It also explores the idea of trust—how hard it is to regain once broken, and how easily it can be manipulated. Mary is watched, doubted, and judged throughout the film, and we feel the same sense of alienation she does. Her fear becomes ours.

Padraig Reynolds directs with a clear focus on atmosphere. He knows when to hold back, when to linger on an empty hallway, and when to break the silence with brutal violence. The film feels grimy, wet, and cold—exactly as it should.

The cinematography uses contrast and shadows to create a visual unease. The lack of color and constant rain evoke a dreamlike quality, or rather, a nightmare Mary can’t wake from. The pacing is steady, with tension building moment by moment until the inevitable breakdown arrives.

Open 24 Hours is a solid psychological horror-thriller that plays like a blend of Halloween and The Babadook—slasher roots with a disturbed mind at the center. It’s not revolutionary, and some plot turns feel familiar, but it’s carried by strong performances, tight direction, and an intense atmosphere.

If you enjoy horror that digs into the mental fallout of survival—rather than just the survival itself—this film is worth your time. Just be warned: after watching, you might hesitate before taking a late-night job… or turning off the lights.