Pulse from 1988 is a quietly unsettling science fiction horror film that reflects a very specific cultural anxiety of its time. Directed by Paul Golding and starring Cliff DeYoung, the film takes a familiar suburban setting and turns it hostile through an unseen electrical force. While it never achieved mainstream success, Pulse has endured as a minor cult film, remembered less for spectacle and more for its atmosphere and unsettling ideas about technology, family, and trust.
The story centers on David Rockland, a young boy who spends the summer with his father, Bill, following his parents’ divorce. Bill, played by Cliff DeYoung, lives with his new wife, Ellen, in a seemingly ordinary Los Angeles neighborhood. Almost immediately, David begins to notice strange and threatening behavior from the house itself. Lights flicker, appliances malfunction, and the electrical system seems to act with malicious intent. As the danger escalates, David finds himself struggling to convince the adults around him that something is seriously wrong.
One of the film’s strengths lies in how it grounds its supernatural premise in domestic conflict. David is not just fighting an unseen force but also navigating the emotional fallout of his parents’ separation. His fear is compounded by the fact that he is treated as unreliable, a child whose imagination is assumed to be the source of the problem. This dynamic gives the film emotional weight and allows the horror to develop slowly rather than relying on immediate shocks.
Cliff DeYoung delivers a restrained and effective performance as Bill Rockland. He plays the character as a rational and practical man who initially dismisses his son’s fears in favor of logical explanations. DeYoung avoids exaggeration, which makes Bill’s eventual realization feel earned. His transformation from skeptic to desperate protector anchors the film and provides a believable emotional arc. Rather than portraying Bill as cruel or negligent, DeYoung presents him as a flawed but well-intentioned parent, which adds complexity to the story.
Joey Lawrence, in one of his early roles, gives a surprisingly natural performance as David. Child actors in horror films often struggle to balance fear and credibility, but Lawrence manages both with restraint. His reactions feel genuine, and he never overplays the terror. Roxanne Hart, as Ellen, serves as a stabilizing presence, caught between her husband’s skepticism and her stepson’s distress. Though her role is less prominent, she contributes to the film’s emotional realism.
Atmosphere is where Pulse truly succeeds. The film relies heavily on sound design, lighting, and subtle visual cues to create tension. Humming wires, flickering bulbs, and the low mechanical noise of household appliances become sources of dread. By transforming everyday objects into threats, the film taps into a fear that feels intimate and invasive. The home, traditionally a place of safety, becomes unpredictable and dangerous.
The pacing of the film is deliberate and at times slow. This approach works well in building unease, but it may test the patience of viewers accustomed to faster-moving horror. Certain scenes linger longer than necessary, and the narrative occasionally circles the same beats before advancing. However, this slow-burn style also reinforces the sense of helplessness and inevitability that defines the film’s tone.
The special effects are modest and clearly a product of their era. Practical effects are used throughout, and while they lack realism by modern standards, they possess a tactile quality that suits the film’s grounded approach. Scenes involving attacking appliances or electrical surges may appear dated, but they maintain a certain charm and sincerity. The film never attempts to overwhelm the viewer with spectacle, choosing instead to suggest danger rather than display it overtly.
Narratively, Pulse follows familiar genre conventions. The ignored child, the dismissive adults, and the gradual escalation of supernatural threat are all well-worn tropes. What distinguishes the film is its commitment to ambiguity. The origin of the electrical force is never fully explained, leaving room for interpretation. This lack of exposition may frustrate some viewers, but it also preserves the film’s eerie atmosphere. By refusing to define the threat too clearly, Pulse allows fear to remain abstract and unsettling.
Thematically, the film reflects late twentieth-century anxieties about technology and control. During a period when electronic devices were becoming increasingly common in households, Pulse suggests that dependence on technology carries unseen risks. This theme resonates even more strongly today, as homes are filled with interconnected devices that operate invisibly and autonomously. In this sense, the film feels unexpectedly prescient.
Pulse was not a commercial success upon release and received mixed critical responses. Its modest budget and limited distribution prevented it from reaching a wide audience. Over time, however, it has gained appreciation among fans of atmospheric horror and science fiction. Its appeal lies not in innovation or intensity, but in its mood, performances, and thematic coherence.
In conclusion, Pulse is an imperfect but thoughtful genre film that rewards viewers willing to engage with its slow pace and understated approach. Cliff DeYoung’s grounded performance provides emotional credibility, while the film’s focus on domestic space and technological anxiety gives it lasting relevance. Though it may feel dated in its effects and storytelling style, Pulse remains a compelling example of how horror can emerge from the ordinary. It is best appreciated as a quiet and unsettling experience rather than a conventional thrill ride, and for fans of reflective science fiction horror, it remains worth revisiting.
Pulse is available to own on Blu-ray today!
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