‘Little Doors’ Is a Muted & Melodramatic Post-Apocalyptic Romance That Locks Itself Out Of Greatness [Brooklyn Horror 2026]

“Is there any going back after this, or is it the end?”

Post-apocalyptic horror stories are often so interesting because they operate as the ultimate equalizers. Everyone can be on equal footing in a world that’s fallen into disarray and stripped of its standard laws and safety nets. There’s no set way to depict this societal unraveling, and the end of the world can be conveyed as a grandiose and epic disaster or as a small and intimate tragedy. Little Doors is a quaint and unconventional experience that mixes cosmic horror with introspective soul-searching that feels like Junji Ito meets Samuel Beckett. 

Little Doors is a twisted two-hander character study about fragile, lonely individuals who find themselves at the center of existential escapism. It’s a film about finding connection and purpose in a world that’s already fallen apart. Little Doors deserves credit for its distinctly different rendition of a post-apocalyptic uncoupling, but its routine wears thin and spins its wheels. It’s more arthouse than haunted house. 

There’s a bit of a folkloric quality to Little Doors, a story in which an unnamed woman (Megan Koester) suddenly discovers that there’s a small wooden door on the side of her body. As she grapples with this knowledge, she and a man (Anthony Oberbeck, who also wrote, directed, and edited the film) decide whether this new anatomical doorway should be opened. This is a seismic and world-shifting discovery, but Little Doors makes it seem like an awkward afterthought that’s akin to a bad haircut. Those who are hoping that this becomes some surreal cosmic horror descent into this biological pocket dimension will be sorely disappointed.

The big body horror twist takes a little too long to kick in and operates like it’s a piece of existentialist theater. The door that’s found in the woman becomes more symbolic than frightening. It represents the many unknowns that lie ahead in the future and the insecurities that accompany them. It’s an expansion of the same character-driven abstraction that precedes it. This surreal symbol reinforces that this is a story about humanity’s desire for answers and logic when they’re faced with uncertainty. It leads to some worthwhile food for thought, but it’s not necessarily material that’s best suited for a film and it’s a relatively lackluster horror experience that’s scant on scares.