My quick rating – 4.8/10. Some movies ease you in. Protanopia throws a Bible verse about cleaning a leprous house into our face, then challenges us to follow along. It is the film equivalent of handing us a puzzle, but half of the pieces belong to another puzzle. Somehow, this seems to be the whole point.

Right from the jump, Protanopia tells you this isn’t going to be a straightforward flick. The title itself, referencing a form of color blindness, isn’t just there to sound artsy in a film festival catalog. It’s basically a warning label. What you’re about to see is fragmented and intentionally disorienting. It starts with ominous narration, eerie music, and a woman sprinting like she just remembered she left the stove on. Except the stove is probably haunted. Then, boom, missing persons flyer. Mallory’s gone. No warm-up, no gentle exposition, just dread.

From here on out, it is all fast cutting and seemingly random visuals. If you are one of those people who enjoy films to gently hold your hand, Protanopia is going to toss you in a dark room and lock the door behind you. Yet, if you allow it, there is a bizarre beat to the madness.

Timothy J. Cox’s Alan Roscoe Jr. is a standout in the “something is deeply wrong here” category. After inheriting his father’s house, Alan treats it less like a home and more like a sacred, possibly cursed artifact. His scenes swing between awkward social humiliation (a homeowners’ meeting that feels like an HOA nightmare) and unsettling introspection. When he starts having visions of his father giving cryptic instructions, the film dives headfirst into low-budget dream logic. Complete with hazy visuals that feel like someone discovered a smoke machine (half the film’s budget LOL) and refused to stop using it. What fun.

Then there’s Luke (Anthony Carey), our emotional anchor. If you can call anyone in this film “grounded.” He’s dealing with his sister’s disappearance while being plagued by visions of the same mysterious house. His interactions with Jack (Matthew Mahler, not to be confused with that bottle of Jack) add another layer of “are we connecting dots or just drawing new ones?”

And just when you think you’ve adjusted to the film’s wavelength, Protanopia hits you with…wait for it. An a cappella sequence. Yes, really. I was seriously wondering, “Did I accidentally switch movies?” but somehow it still fits the film’s dreamlike, off-kilter energy.

The sensory experience here is…aggressive. Around the 55-minute mark, the movie obnoxiously yells at you to stay awake, blaring noise that feels less like a jump scare and more like my TV was staging an intervention. Add in the constant strobing lights and flashing visuals, and we are straddling the line between psychological horror and a full-on sensory endurance test.

However, there is something happening underneath all the chaos. Protanopia can be considered a surrealistic portrayal of solitude, loss, and the deterioration of the suburban neighborhood. There is a certain madness lurking beneath all the manicured lawns and gated entrances, and “Protanopia” manages to capture this madness in its full intensity. Had you said “Budget of $100 Million,” I may have had a different reaction. Keep that in mind.

This isn’t a movie for everyone. And it doesn’t want to be. But if you’re in the mood for something that feels like a hallucination with a story hiding somewhere, Protanopia might be a bizarre trip worth taking. Just don’t watch it if you’re already sleep-deprived. Or prone to questioning reality.

If this sounds interesting to you, check it out for free on Vimeo or FilmFreeway. And thanks go to Timothy J. Cox for sending this one over for me to take a look at.