There are filmmakers who tell stories, and then there are artists who build worlds. For decades, Stephen and Timothy Quay—the reclusive, endlessly inventive twin brothers—have been doing the latter from their London studio, a place where rusty gears, doll parts, and forgotten ephemera become the living, breathing subjects of their work. They're a cinematic institution for those who know, a well-kept secret for the rest. So when Christopher Nolan, a man who knows a thing or two about bending time and space on screen, starts championing their work, you pay attention.
That's the exact situation we find ourselves in now, with the release of the official trailer and poster for the Quay Brothers' first feature film in 20 years, Sanatorium Under the Sign of the Hourglass. This isn't a run-of-the-mill, cash-grab comeback. This is a cinematic event for anyone tired of the same old CGI-heavy spectacle, a return to the tactile, the peculiar, and the genuinely strange.
The poster itself is a masterclass in controlled chaos. Against a muted, sepia-toned backdrop, a labyrinthine tangle of skeletal, mechanical forms intertwines with the human body. There's a lone figure, a doll-like man, seemingly lost in this surreal architecture. The image feels like a forgotten medical illustration, something from a textbook on a forgotten dimension. The title treatment—delicate, hand-drawn—sits at the bottom, looking less like a title and more like an inscription. It sells the film not as a product, but as an artifact to be discovered.

Then there's the trailer, a two-and-a-half-minute descent into the Quay Brothers' unique brand of dream logic. We see the ghostly train journey of a man named Josef, based on the book by Polish author Bruno Schulz. The shots of the live-action sanatorium—a place of peeling paint, forgotten hallways, and corridors that seem to stretch into infinity—are breathtaking. But it's when the live-action gives way to the duo's signature stop-motion puppetry that the real magic happens. Objects bend, time blurs, and the laws of physics are politely ignored. This isn't the clean, polished stop-motion of a big studio—this is the messy, beautiful, slightly unsettling art of the Quay Brothers.
This film, which originally premiered at the 2024 Venice Film Festival and also screened at the London Film Festival, is presented by Nolan, whose admiration for the Quay Brothers is well-documented. At 75 minutes, it promises to be a hypnotic journey told in seven chapters, corresponding with seven “prophetic, mystical viewing lenses.” It's an immersive experience for the patient, discerning viewer. It's the kind of cinema that requires you to lean in and let the film wash over you, rather than spoon-feeding you a plot.
For New York cinephiles, the wait is nearly over. Film Forum will debut the film in select U.S. theaters, starting with their iconic NYC location on August 29th, 2025. Even better, for those wanting a proper primer on the Quays' work, the theater will also host a special event on Wednesday, August 27th. Titled “The Quay Brothers—on 35mm,” it will feature three classic shorts curated by Nolan himself, along with his own short documentary, Quay. This isn't just a new release; it's a celebration of a singular cinematic voice.
This whole thing feels like a subtle, necessary reminder. Not every film has to be a four-quadrant, global event. Some can, and should, be small, strange, and entirely their own thing. It takes a certain kind of director to make a movie like this, and it takes a certain kind of audience to see it. It's an art form, not an assembly line. And thank God for that.