Edgar Wright’s Last Night in Soho is a film that dazzles and disturbs in equal measure. Unlike the director’s earlier works, which often leaned heavily on comedy (Shaun of the Dead, Hot Fuzz, The World’s End), this film moves firmly into psychological horror and thriller territory while retaining his trademark stylistic flair. The result is a stylish, unsettling, and haunting exploration of nostalgia, trauma, and the dark underbelly of glamour.
At its heart, Last Night in Soho is about two women living in different times whose lives become entwined through a surreal, dreamlike connection: Eloise (Thomasin McKenzie), a modern-day fashion student with a love for 1960s London, and Sandie (Anya Taylor-Joy), a glamorous aspiring singer from that very era. As Eloise begins to see visions of Sandie’s life, she is initially entranced by the style, music, and vibrancy of Swinging London. But what begins as a dream turns into a nightmare, as Eloise uncovers the exploitation, abuse, and violence that lurked beneath the glittering surface of the 1960s club scene.
A Film About Nostalgia
One of the central themes of Last Night in Soho is nostalgia — and more specifically, the dangers of idealizing the past. Eloise begins the film with a romanticized vision of the 1960s. She listens to records on vinyl, styles her clothes with vintage flair, and dreams of becoming a fashion designer inspired by the icons of that decade. For her, the 60s are a glamorous golden age, free from the perceived shallowness and noise of the modern world.
When she first “travels” back in time through her visions in Soho, the world seems to confirm her fantasies. The clubs are alive with neon lights and infectious music. Anya Taylor-Joy’s Sandie embodies the very essence of retro glamour — confident, radiant, and full of dreams. It feels like Eloise has stepped into the world she has always longed for.
But as the story unfolds, the romanticized façade begins to crack. Sandie’s dreams of stardom are crushed as she is manipulated, controlled, and eventually prostituted by the men who promised her fame. The men in Soho’s nightclubs are not admirers but predators, and the stylish venues hide an underworld of abuse and exploitation. Through Eloise’s visions, the 1960s reveal themselves as not just a glamorous age but a dangerous one for young women.
This shift is crucial to the film’s message. Wright seems to be reminding viewers that nostalgia is selective — we remember the music, the fashion, and the glamour, but we forget the oppression, misogyny, and cruelty that were also integral to those times. To Eloise, and perhaps to us as viewers, the past is not just golden but gilded: beautiful on the surface, rotten underneath.
Women, Exploitation, and Trauma
At its core, Last Night in Soho is a story about women and the cycles of exploitation they endure. Sandie’s story is heartbreaking because it mirrors the fate of so many young women who came to London seeking fame in the 1960s and found themselves trapped in cycles of abuse. The clubs that seem vibrant at first quickly turn into cages, where men use their power to strip Sandie of her dreams.
Eloise, though separated by time, is not immune to similar pressures. As a young woman in London, she faces bullying from peers, objectification, and the overwhelming weight of urban life. Her connection to Sandie becomes symbolic of intergenerational trauma: the wounds of the past continue to echo into the present.
What makes the film particularly unsettling is its portrayal of how trauma can linger. Eloise does not just witness Sandie’s suffering — she feels it, relives it, and becomes haunted by it. The spectral figures of the men who exploited Sandie follow Eloise through Soho, their faceless forms embodying the facelessness of systemic abuse. The horror element of the film becomes a metaphor for the ways in which women are haunted by the violence done to them and to those who came before.
Cinematography and Style
Edgar Wright has always been a stylist, and Last Night in Soho is arguably his most visually striking film. Collaborating with cinematographer Chung-hoon Chung, he crafts a visual language that captures both the allure and the terror of Soho.
The film’s early sequences in the 1960s are bathed in warm neon lights, mirrors, and dazzling tracking shots. The first scene where Eloise sees Sandie walking through a nightclub is a technical marvel — reflections and body doubles allow the two actresses to appear as if they are seamlessly swapping places, blurring the line between dream and reality. This creates a hypnotic atmosphere, drawing both Eloise and the audience into the illusion of glamour.
As the story grows darker, so does the film’s visual style. The lighting becomes harsher, the colors more distorted, and the reflections more fractured. The dream sequences turn into nightmares, and the once-vibrant Soho becomes a claustrophobic labyrinth of shadows, alleyways, and distorted figures. Wright uses his style not just for spectacle but to mirror Eloise’s psychological descent.
Soundtrack and Music
Music is another vital part of the film. Wright has always been known for his impeccable soundtracks, and here he immerses viewers in the music of the 1960s — Dusty Springfield, The Kinks, Cilla Black, and, most memorably, Anya Taylor-Joy’s haunting rendition of Petula Clark’s “Downtown.”
At first, the songs seem to celebrate the joy and energy of the era. But as the film progresses, they take on a more sinister tone. “Downtown,” once a cheerful anthem about freedom, becomes twisted into a chilling ballad, reflecting Sandie’s entrapment. The soundtrack becomes a metaphor in itself: even the most joyful melodies can mask darker truths.
Horror and Psychological Descent
While Last Night in Soho contains supernatural elements, its horror is primarily psychological. Eloise’s visions blur the line between dream and reality, making her question her own sanity. This descent mirrors the classic Gothic tradition, where female protagonists are often caught between worlds, haunted by forces they cannot control.
The faceless men who pursue Eloise are terrifying not because of their grotesque appearances but because they represent something larger: the countless anonymous men who exploited women like Sandie. The horror is not in monsters or ghosts but in the very real history of abuse.
The climax of the film — when Eloise uncovers the truth about Sandie’s fate and the identity of her elderly landlady, Ms. Collins (played by Diana Rigg in her final role) — ties the themes together in a shocking revelation. Ms. Collins, once Sandie, is both victim and perpetrator, having turned the tables on her abusers. Her story complicates the narrative: she is both sympathetic and monstrous, a woman driven to vengeance by trauma.
Reception and Criticism
Upon release, Last Night in Soho received mixed-to-positive reviews. Many praised its style, performances, and thematic ambition, while others criticized its narrative for becoming messy in the final act. Some viewers felt that the film’s message about misogyny was powerful but somewhat muddled by the twist ending, which reframed Sandie as both victim and killer.
Nonetheless, the film stands out as a bold and ambitious work in Wright’s career. It may not have the universal acclaim of Shaun of the Dead or Baby Driver, but it demonstrates his willingness to step outside of his comfort zone and tackle darker, more complex subject matter.
Conclusion
Last Night in Soho is not a perfect film, but it is a fascinating one. It combines dazzling style with unsettling substance, using the lens of psychological horror to explore nostalgia, exploitation, and trauma. Its message — that the past is not always as golden as we imagine — resonates powerfully in a culture that often romanticizes bygone eras.
For viewers, the film is both an invitation and a warning: it invites us to step into the glamour of Swinging London, but warns us not to forget the darkness that lurked beneath. Eloise’s journey from fascination to horror is a reminder that history is never simple — and that the ghosts of the past continue to haunt us.
At over two hours long, the film can feel uneven, but its ambition, visual brilliance, and thematic depth make it a work worth revisiting and discussing. Edgar Wright may have crafted his most haunting film yet — one that lingers in the mind long after the credits roll, much like the ghosts of Soho itself.
