Next Exit opens like a horror movie, the camera slowly creeping through darkness towards a door that’s been left slightly ajar. The only light discerning the door from the darkness comes from the space between the door and the frame, trickling in from the other room. The score, by Shiva Baby’s incredibly talented Ariel Marx, builds dramatically as the camera moves through the door to reveal a young kid named Reo (Gavin Powers) sitting up in bed. He looks somewhat fearfully at the door, and the camera, commanded by Azuli Anderson, dutifully follows his gaze. As he reaches over to the flashlight on the nightstand, a violin stings and a ghostly face appears out of the darkness by the nightstand as a perfectly executed jump scare. But the fear turns to awe, as the kid says hello to the ghost, revealed to be his father. They begin playing cards as the camera pulls back to show that they are being filmed by another camera that manages to capture the awe-inspiring sight unfolding, otherwise invisible to the naked eye: Proof of the after life.

This somewhat traditional horror opening gives way to a surprisingly moving, yet caustically darkly humorous, romantic comedy that finds humor, heart and pathos for two characters who are at the end of their ropes. The narrative switches from the kid and his father to Rose (Katie Parker), a woman packing up or selling the last of earthly possessions while a news report blares on her soon-to-be-smashed TV. Since news of the afterlife became documented and Reo’s video went viral, homicides and suicides have peaked.

Also arising from this revelation is a study and an organization, founded by Dr. Stevensen (Karen Gillan), who sees itself as the new frontier of exploration. Just like explores conquered the world, Dr. Stevensen wants patients to “transition” to the other side. The world is expanding, she says. “It’s now our duty to see how far.” Rose is one of the people who signed up for the assisted suicide to explore the afterlife and her appointment is in five days. But instead of flying across the country, she decides to rent a car an take a final trip.

After her introduction, the story moves to Teddy (Rahul Kohli), another person who has signed up to be “transitioned” so he can be an explorer on the other side. He drops his dog off with a friend named Milton (Jim Ortlieb) and then tells him what he’s planning to do. Milton’s face turns crestfallen. “You’re young, yet. You’ve got a lot ahead of you,” he pleads with Teddy. But Teddy sees this as a way to actually make something of his life and when Milton asks if this is supposed to be a goodbye, Teddy replies, “Naw. I’ll come back and haunt you.”

The romantic comedy structure shows itself as Rose and Teddy have their meetcute when they show up at the same time to rent their cars. It’s a classic romantic comedy staple. Rose’s car was double booked against Teddy’s. Teddy’s license is going to expire in a week and the rental agency requires a longer period of time. So the two of them are forced to share a car ride across the country. As is the case with these types of stories, the beginning of the trip is full of verbal sparring, as Rose is annoyed with the terminally cheerful Teddy. But more concerning for Rose is the dark specter she continues to see lurking in the darkness or reflected in mirrors. She’s obviously running from something and spends her nights getting blackout drunk.

Eventually, the two of them begin to open up to each other about the darkness in their lives and their individual reasons for signing up for Dr. Stevensen’s trials. It’s here where the narrative takes a turn into the oppressively sad as it tackles weighty subjects of depression, suicidal ideation, the traumas inflicted by parents and the feelings of hopelessness that come with people who believe they are the perennial fuck ups. They can’t see the goodness in themselves, even though they can see it in each other. In a couple heart-breaking conversations, the pair confess their prior attempts at suicide, which gets the heart of why Rose signed up. This isn’t her first attempt at death; far from it. No matter what she does, she seems to be unable to finish the deed. Teddy, on the other hand, has lived a life that he feels is underwhelming and he holds familial trauma centered around his father so close to his heart it threatens to drown him.

Cheery stuff.

Even when the film opens up to allow some levity in it, it still manages to subvert that to create an overwhelming atmosphere of sorrow. At one point, Teddy ponders how many people sighed in relief when they discovered they weren’t going to hell for their sins. That opens up a game of confession between the two of them that turns into a rousing game of Never Have I Ever at a Texan bar. It’s a funny sequence that turns cold when an old police officer joins in, confessing to his hand in deaths that have scarred him for years.

As the pair of them cross states and meet random people, Next Exit explores the idea of just how haunted everyone is. A man uses their vehicle to commit suicide. A cop whose life has led him to crying his pain away with a bottle of alcohol. A priest confronted with the truth of what comes next, but feels hopeless in helping people. Meanwhile, a literal ghost chases after Rose’s more figurative ones as an incorporeal representation of her guilt and shame and pain. Mali Elfman’s script allows the characters to live in their grief and talk about it in incredibly authentic ways, and forces the viewer to really get in their headspace. It’s uncomfortable and heartbreaking, even when the story allows for humor.

The power and emotion seeps through the fantastic performances by Rahul and Katie, who imbue their characters with so much chemistry and so much genuine pain. At one point, Teddy is able to face a particular demon and the way the scene unfolds is full of such unbridled tension mixed with absolute sadness. The scene had me on the edge of my seat, compelled by his performance and not knowing whether conciliation, violence or worse would follow. Rahul’s face captures every single emotion that I found myself holding my breath as well as my tears. The performances are helped along by that breathtaking score by Ariel Marx, who, like in Shiva Baby, delivered horror movie vibes. Her composition underscores the horror, but also the immense sense of loss and longing the characters feel. It’s absolutely stunning.

Mali Elfman’s attention to detail and complex script shows an effortless style and panache, creating something so compellingly visceral and heartbreakingly painful. What’s most surprising is how easily and quietly her film is able to disarm. One minute, the tension is so high it brings tears to the eye. The next, the acerbic script manages to make you laugh. Next Exit is a powerfully moving film about what makes us human and the way grief and trauma and unrealized potential can haunt us more than a simple ghost ever could.