DreamQuil (SXSW) is a Dreamy Feminist Sci-fi Horror That Captivates with Its Visuals, Not Story
Title: DreamQuil
First Non-Festival Release: TBD
Director: Alex Prager
Writer: Alex Prager, Vanessa Prager
Runtime: 89 Minutes
Starring: Elizabeth Banks, John C. Reilly, Kathryn Newton, Juliette Lewis
Where to Watch: Check out where to find it here
This film’s review was written after its screening at the South by Southwest Film Festival in 2026.
Women are often tasked and blamed with everything. When women’s frustrations manifest outwardly, it becomes a problem for society, one that needs to be fixed immediately. And there’s plenty of corporations willing to exploit this dynamic to fuel their bottom line.
Carol (Elizabeth Banks) is a woman who struggles to balance the responsibilities of her career and home with her personal life. Stuck at home all-day due to the polluted air outside and spellbound by the technology she uses, Carol decides to undergo an experimental treatment to save her marriage and family. The allure of the DreamQuil technology is too much to resist, especially with founder Margo Case (Kathryn Newton) shilling for its life-changing outcomes that make women their absolute best. Her best friend Rebecca (Sofia Boutella) convinces her that it’s worth it. Her husband Gary (John C. Reilly) and son Quentin (Toby Larsen) barely even notice that she’s gone, as the DreamQuil company sent over an identical robot clone of Carol to work in her place while she recovers. When she returns, she has some valid concerns about being replaced by Carol 2.
DreamQuil is a hazy sci-fi horror film that gets lost trying to make its point on women’s autonomy.
DreamQuil shines in its visuals, which is where writer/director Alex Prager leans on her vast experience as an artist. Evoking imagery from the 1950s but juxtaposing them with the almost dystopian sepia-soaked world of DreamQuil’s reality, the visuals do much of the heavy lifting in making the dreamy sci-fi horror work. Subtle updates to technology and grounded imaginations make the technological progress feel real while still finding plenty of ways to mine on women’s insecurities, furthering the film’s feminist message.
It’s not shocking that a movie like DreamQuil chooses to set its tale of women’s autonomy and identity against the backdrop of a crumbling society. While we are inching towards technofascism at an alarming rate, DreamQuil is already there. AI has invaded everything, communities are isolated even further through restricted movement, and the same humdrum misogyny bleeds through every interaction. DreamQuil speculates that no matter what society looks like: sexism will be baked into the DNA of its culture without intentional excising. Carol’s family insists they love her and want her around, but they only want a certain type of Carol to reveal herself.
The family dynamics aren’t as interesting, as DreamQuil plays out exactly how you expect it to. Carol’s husband and son claim to love her, but this love is only conditional on her performance. Does she spend enough time with them? Is she taking care of the house? Why is she spending so much time dreaming of other lives and playing around in her virtual reality pod? The constant questioning of Carol’s choices, along with the pressures any person has to deal with already, bring her to a heartbreaking realization: the only way to keep her family alive is to give up on herself.
The idea of giving up yourself for your family is a message often directed towards women. Men hem and haw that having a job and potentially being drafted into war [once every few generations] is worse than the overwhelming, all-encompassing pressure for women to be the perfect wives that also are amazing moms with careers that keep the house clean and bellies fed and more and more and more all while putting their own needs and wants aside for their family’s sake. It’s not shocking that Carol’s fracturing continues even after she undergoes an unnecessary treatment, thanks to insidious wellness marketing. Carol, like many women, aren’t considered human beings with their own hopes, dreams, and desires. Much to her husband and son’s disappointment.
That’s why Carol 2 is so intoxicating to them. She doesn’t need to have her needs and wants considered. She is there to serve, smile, and seduce. None of this is revolutionary or original, but in a world where AI girlfriends, Ozempic, and mommy bloggers exist, all avenues to increase women’s shame, it feels important to continue hammering the point home.
Elizabeth Banks leads with aplomb, making both Carols unique while overlapping significantly. Playing twins is always a fun challenge for actors, and Banks is clearly up for the challenge. Her impassioned performance of Carol contrasts beautifully with her subtly colder interpretation of Carol 2.
It doesn’t quite tie everything together in a satisfying way, but that almost makes it even cooler. DreamQuil lives by its visuals and Banks’s impassioned performances but is unable to shake its clunky story progression and underwritten characters. What one can get out of DreamQuil entirely depends on your reaction to the way it handles its themes. To some, it nails the suffocating feelings that families project onto women and the commodification of women’s bodies for the enjoyment of men. To others, it doesn’t give Carol enough agency or depth to drive its points home. In the end, DreamQuil has enough to say to listen, even if it’s drowned out by its dreamier elements.
Overall Score? 6/10
