Much like an extended visual album, Ash dances between narrative storytelling and nightmarish, surreal sequences. It’s part haunted house thriller, part psychedelic fever dream — unbound by the strict rules of traditional filmmaking. If you’re craving something between Dead Space’s terror, Prometheus’s eerie grandeur, and Solaris’ existential dread — all drenched in neon-soaked “bisexual lighting” à la Blade Runner 2049 — Ash is built for you.

A Sci-Fi Horror Story Unfolds

In the opening moments of Ash, Flying Lotus quickly establishes a palpable sense of dread. We meet Riya (played by a phenomenal Eiza González) as she awakens alone inside a crumbling space station on a distant planet. She has no memory of what happened — only the corpses of her crew, flickering emergency lights, and a computer system warning of an “unusual life force detected.”

This setup plays like a cinematic survival horror game (Dead Space fans will feel right at home here). As Riya navigates the bloodstained corridors, the film plants a crucial question: Could Riya herself have been responsible for the carnage? The mystery becomes deeply personal, forcing the audience to experience her unraveling through stunning visuals and a pulsating, sinister score.

Trust Is a Dangerous Game

Things escalate when Brion (Aaron Paul) arrives, claiming he received Riya’s distress signal. But can he be trusted? After all, we’ve seen glimpses of Riya standing amidst the bloodshed. Aaron Paul and Eiza González share electric chemistry, portraying two lost souls who must work together, even when doubt and suspicion simmer beneath every glance.

The station’s computer continues ominously reminding them of the lurking “unusual lifeform,” a narrative thread that slowly builds to a horrific and clever payoff by the finale.

Middle Stretch Stumbles — But It Pays Off

While Ash shines visually and atmospherically, it does lose a bit of momentum midway. Flashbacks flesh out Riya’s doomed expedition, covering familiar sci-fi tropes: corporate greed, the dangers of alien lifeforms, and debates over survival vs. discovery. These moments are solid but feel predictable.

However, once the truth about the station — and Riya herself — comes to light, Ash roars back to life. Flying Lotus delivers some brutally inventive set pieces, including a jaw-dropping first-person fight between Riya and her expedition leader, Adhi (the ever-magnetic Iko Uwais). Fans of Uwais’ action prowess (The Raid series) won’t be disappointed — he’s as fierce and dynamic as ever, even battling in deep space.

Meanwhile, González proves she’s a powerhouse, blending vulnerability and strength into a performance that carries Ash through its wildest sequences.

A Visual and Visceral Treat

Flying Lotus doesn’t just rely on trippy visuals — he ensures the action and horror stay coherent. Despite the thick neon glow flooding the frames, the chaos remains beautifully shot. Whether lingering on a grotesque smile or a gruesome skin-peeling scene, Lotus refuses to shy away from the grotesque artistry of his world.

Ash may not reinvent the sci-fi horror genre, but its stylish execution, standout performances, and genuine sense of dread make it one of the most exciting indie horror films of 2024.

Final Thoughts: Ash (2024) Is a Sci-Fi Nightmare Worth Watching

Flying Lotus’ Ash is a gloriously strange and stunning piece of sci-fi horror — a B-movie crafted with A+ style and ambition. It’s messy, sometimes frustrating, but always fascinating.

If you love genre films that embrace their weirdness (think Mandy or Color Out of Space), Ash belongs on your radar. Expect this one to become a midnight cult classic, discussed, dissected, and adored for years to come — neon lighting, twisted creatures, and all.

Flying Lotus takes viewers on a hypnotic, unsettling ride with Ash (2024), his latest venture into filmmaking. If you told me Ash started as a concept for a Flying Lotus music video and expanded into a 95-minute sci-fi horror movie, I’d believe it without hesitation. And that’s not a criticism — it’s actually a testament to the film’s mesmerizing, free-form rhythm.

Much like an extended visual album, Ash dances between narrative storytelling and nightmarish, surreal sequences. It’s part haunted house thriller, part psychedelic fever dream — unbound by the strict rules of traditional filmmaking. If you’re craving something between Dead Space’s terror, Prometheus’s eerie grandeur, and Solaris’ existential dread — all drenched in neon-soaked “bisexual lighting” à la Blade Runner 2049 — Ash is built for you.