A frail-looking young woman, outfitted with a bomb, wanders through Times Square—her finger on the switch, searching for the moment to blow up. That, in a sentence, is the premise of Julia Loktev's Day Night Day Night, which had a week-long run at the IFC Center last spring. Emerging from the Port Authority outfitted with a lethal backpack, the demure terrorist experiences the sensory bombardment of midday Eighth Avenue. Overstimulation reigns: She seems dazed. Someone slams into her, tourists ask her to take their pictures, police sirens blare, unwelcome suitors appear. Free-floating anxiety gives way to fear and trembling, being and nothingness, curiosity and impatience. A public toilet must be negotiated—as well as a pay phone. Day Night Day Night isn't just a movie that explores the nightmare of a potential terrorist attack in the most public of public spaces; it's a movie about the inherent terror in those spaces.