Negative Film

I’ll admit, I went into *Negative Film* expecting another *1984* retread, but Petracci subverts the genre in ways that left me genuinely unsettled. The story unfolds through fragmented perspectives—diary entries, interrogations, half-remembered conversations—that force you to piece together the truth alongside the protagonist. It’s a risky structure, but it pays off because the ambiguity *hurts*. You’re never sure if the raids are targeting dissenters or if the real crime is simply *noticing* too much. Will M. Watt’s performance sells this uncertainty brilliantly; his flat, weary tone during the protagonist’s introspective moments makes the rare bursts of panic hit like a gut punch. That said, the pacing won’t be for everyone. The first third is *deliberate*—almost glacial—as it establishes the world’s oppressive rhythm, and while I appreciated the immersion, I can see how some listeners might crave more forward momentum. There’s also a late-game reveal that, while thematically satisfying, stretches credibility just enough to pull you out of the story for a beat. But these are minor quibbles in an audiobook that otherwise nails its atmosphere. The sound design is particularly clever: the way Watt’s voice occasionally *drops out* mid-sentence during blackout scenes, or how the audio seems to distort during moments of dissociation, isn’t just gimmicky—it’s a masterclass in using the medium to amplify the text. If you’ve ever lain awake wondering how complicit you’d be in a collapsing society, this one will haunt you long after the credits roll.