The Norliss Tapes

In the fog‑laden streets of 1970s San Francisco, a modest newspaper office becomes the unexpected gateway to a world that whispers of ancient rites and unseen forces. When the publisher discovers a stack of personal audio recordings left behind by a vanished colleague, the ordinary rhythm of deadlines is shattered, replaced by the crackle of a voice that beckons curiosity and dread in equal measure.

The tapes belong to David Norliss, a tenacious investigative journalist whose reputation rests on exposing charlatans who masquerade as mystics. His close friend and employer, Sanford Evans, is drawn into the investigation not only out of professional duty but also because the recordings suggest that Norliss stumbled onto something far larger than any typical scandal. As Evans listens, the atmosphere thickens with the scent of sea‑salted cliffs and the unsettling quiet of a coastal estate where a recent widow is grappling with lingering mysteries surrounding her late husband.

Through fragmented testimony, the narrative hints at a convergence of personal grief, enigmatic art, and a shadowy practice rooted in Voodoo, all of which seem to reverberate with the unsettling notion of the walking dead. The tone is deliberately moody and unsettling—half‑light corridors, hushed conversations, and an ever‑present sense that something ancient is stirring beneath the veneer of modern life.

The film balances journalistic curiosity with eerie, almost mythic horror, inviting the audience to experience the tension between rational inquiry and the inexplicable. As the tapes play on, the boundary between recorded truth and haunting speculation blurs, leaving viewers perched on the edge of a mystery that feels both intimately human and ominously otherworldly.

Last Updated: December 04, 2025 at 23:01