84 m² is a South Korean psychological thriller film released on Netflix in 2025, directed and written by Kim Tae‑joon and starring Kang Ha‑neul, Yeom Hye‑ran, and Seo Hyun‑woo.
The story follows Noh Woo‑sung, an ordinary office worker who finally achieves a lifelong goal: buying his own 84 m² apartment in Seoul — a symbol of stability, success, and adulthood in a city where homeownership is incredibly difficult. But instead of peace, his new home becomes the center of relentless psychological torment.
Shortly after moving in, Woo‑sung begins hearing mysterious, incessant noises through the walls at all hours. Despite his best efforts to prove he isn’t the source, neighbors turn hostile, accusations fly, and the building’s social fabric frays. Alongside mounting financial strain, his sense of reality — and safety — starts to unravel.
As Woo‑sung digs deeper, he discovers that the apartment building may hold dark secrets, hidden motives, and unseen mechanisms of manipulation that extend far beyond ordinary neighborly disputes. The movie blends atmospheric tension, social commentary on urban life and housing pressures, and a creeping feeling that the walls themselves are closing in on him.
Here are two detailed scenes from “84 m²” that are relevant to the film and contain no spoilers:
Scene 1: The First Night in the New Apartment
It’s late evening. The camera pans across pristine white walls, neatly unpacked boxes, and a small celebratory meal laid out on the floor. Noh Woo-sung, dressed casually, looks around with quiet satisfaction. For the first time in his life, he owns his own space — 84 square meters of freedom.
He finishes a beer and lies down. Silence. The camera lingers in a wide shot, emphasizing the stillness.
Then — a noise. Barely audible at first. A rhythmic tapping. Faint, but persistent.
Woo-sung sits up, confused. He walks to the wall and presses his ear against it. The tapping continues, mechanical, too steady to be random. He knocks back — politely, tentatively. Silence.
This moment is subtle, but unnerving. It sets the tone for the entire film: a peaceful dream that begins to rot at the edges. The apartment isn’t haunted in the traditional sense — but something is off. And it’s only just beginning.
Scene 2: The Residents’ Meeting – Tension in Fluorescent Light
In a cold, fluorescent-lit basement room, the apartment residents sit on plastic chairs arranged in a circle. The building manager stands at the front, clipboard in hand, trying to keep the mood civil. But tensions are high. Complaints fly: about noise, trash, and “disruptive behavior.”
Woo-sung, seated near the back, looks increasingly uncomfortable. Neighbors point fingers — some directly at him, others more passive-aggressively. He tries to speak, to explain that he’s being blamed unfairly, but every sentence is met with skepticism or subtle mockery.
What makes the scene powerful isn’t the yelling — it’s the slow erosion of trust. The camera frequently cuts to close-ups: sweat on Woo-sung’s temple, eyes glancing sideways, hands gripping chair arms.
This moment reveals the core theme of the film: in a tightly packed, modern life, walls are thin — and so is the line between neighbor and enemy. The apartment, once a symbol of independence, becomes a psychological cage.
