In the ever-shifting sands of streaming availability, where today’s binge becomes tomorrow’s “rent for $5.99,” few films have captured the chaotic allure of impulsive viewing quite like The Voyeurs. Sydney Sweeney’s sultry 2021 erotic thriller— a neon-lit nod to Hitchcock’s Rear Window crossed with the fever-dream voyeurism of Brian De Palma—has been living its best (and freest) life on Tubi since earlier this year. But as of late November 2025, it’s landed squarely in the platform’s dreaded “Leaving Soon” section, sending fans into a frenzy of last-minute marathons and social media pleas. With no official exit date announced (though insiders whisper mid-December), this R-rated rabbit hole of obsession, betrayal, and boundary-blurring heat is on borrowed time. If you’ve been sleeping on it—or worse, already devoured it and crave a rewatch—consider this your wake-up call: The Voyeurs is the kind of movie that hooks you with Sweeney’s magnetic gaze and refuses to let go, even after the credits roll.

For the uninitiated (or those who need a refresher before Tubi pulls the plug), The Voyeurs follows Pippa (Sweeney) and Thomas (Justice Smith), a young couple fresh out of art school who snag their dream apartment in a swanky New Orleans high-rise. What starts as a playful game of window-watching—peering into the lives of their enigmatic neighbors across the courtyard—quickly spirals into something far more intoxicating. Pippa, an aspiring photographer with a restless spirit, becomes fixated on the couple opposite: the brooding artist Cole (Ben Hardy) and his poised wife Julia (Natasha Liu Bordizzo). As the lines between fantasy and reality dissolve, the film plunges into a labyrinth of desire, deception, and deadly consequences, all underscored by a pulsating synth score that feels like a heartbeat in overdrive. Directed and written by Michael Mohan (who later helmed Sweeney’s nun-horror Immaculate), it’s a 117-minute cocktail of tension and titillation that doesn’t shy away from its R-rated roots—think explicit encounters, psychological mind games, and a twist ending that left audiences divided between “genius” and “what just happened?”

Released straight to Prime Video in September 2021 amid the pandemic’s streaming surge, The Voyeurs initially flew under the radar, grossing a modest (but untrackable) digital haul in a library bloated with blockbusters. Critics were split down the middle: The Hollywood Reporter praised its “slick, seductive throwback to ’90s erotic thrillers,” hailing Sweeney’s “fearless” performance as a star-making turn, while Variety dismissed it as “style over substance, with more skin than sense.” On Rotten Tomatoes, it sits at a middling 51% from critics but a healthier 62% audience score, reflecting its polarizing pull—viewers either adore the audacious eroticism or decry it as exploitative eye candy. Letterboxd users, ever the cinephile snobs, capture the vibe perfectly: one-star reviews quip “Sydney Sweeney hot” (a meme that’s spawned endless edits), while five-star raves call it “a twisty ode to Hitchcock/De Palma that captures the strange eroticism of voyeurism… nice to see someone trying to revive the erotic thriller.” Love it or loathe it, no one denies Sweeney’s command of the screen—she’s not just the film’s flame-haired siren; she’s its scorching center, blending vulnerability with voracious curiosity in a role that demands both emotional nudity and literal exposure.

Sweeney’s involvement was no accident. Fresh off her breakout as Cassie Howard in HBO’s Euphoria—where her raw portrayal of teen angst earned her a 2020 Emmy nod—and her scene-stealing turn as Olivia in The White Lotus Season 1, the then-23-year-old Spokane native was hungry for roles that shattered the “girl next door” mold. “I wanted something bold, something that played with power dynamics and the female gaze,” she told Elle in a 2021 profile, reflecting on how The Voyeurs allowed her to reclaim agency in a genre often accused of objectifying its leads. Producing under her Fifty-Fifty Films banner (co-founded with her mom to champion female-driven stories), Sweeney wasn’t just starring; she was shaping the narrative. “Pippa isn’t a victim—she’s an active participant, flawed and fascinating,” she emphasized during press junkets. That ethos shines through: scenes of Sweeney behind the lens, framing her subjects with artistic intent, subvert the male gaze into something empowered, even as the film’s steamy set pieces (choreographed with intimacy coordinators for consent and comfort) push boundaries.

The supporting cast elevates the ensemble into something dangerously addictive. Justice Smith, as the grounded but increasingly uneasy Thomas, brings a quiet intensity that grounds the escalating madness—his chemistry with Sweeney crackles with the awkward authenticity of young love teetering on the edge. Ben Hardy, channeling a brooding charisma as Cole, delivers the film’s most magnetic antagonist: a painter whose canvases drip with erotic menace, his every glance a hook. Natasha Liu Bordizzo rounds out the quartet as Julia, a enigmatic figure whose poised sensuality masks layers of intrigue, turning what could be a throwaway “mysterious wife” into a force of subtle subversion. Mohan’s direction—taut pacing, voyeuristic camera angles that mimic the characters’ peeping tom tendencies, and a color palette of sultry reds and shadowy blues—keeps the audience complicit, blurring the screen’s divide until you’re as invested (and implicated) as Pippa herself.

What truly makes The Voyeurs a must-watch before its Tubi exit is its uncanny prescience in a post-pandemic, always-online world. Released when Zoom fatigue and social media stalking were at fever pitch, the film dissects the thrill (and terror) of digital-age intimacy: the addictive pull of screens as portals to forbidden lives, the erosion of privacy in an era of Ring doorbells and Instagram lurkers. “We’re all voyeurs now,” Mohan mused in a 2021 IndieWire interview, drawing parallels to Disturbia and Sliver while updating the trope for TikTok voyeurism. The movie’s climax—a revelation that twists the power dynamic inside out—lands like a gut-punch, forcing viewers to question their own complicity. It’s no wonder Tubi’s addition in early 2025 sparked a renaissance: free access democratized the film, turning it into a sleeper hit with over 15 million streams in three months (per Tubi analytics shared in a Deadline report). Social media exploded with reaction videos—fans gasping at the third-act swerve, thirst-posting Sweeney’s wardrobe malfunctions (tastefully, of course), and debating plot holes in heated Reddit threads that rival Fight Club forums.

Yet, as Tubi’s “Leaving Soon” label signals the end of this free-for-all era, the film’s departure underscores the precariousness of streaming libraries. Tubi, Fox’s ad-supported underdog, thrives on eclectic catalogs of cult curios and forgotten gems, but licensing deals are fickle—The Voyeurs, originally an Amazon exclusive, likely cycles back to Prime Video or PVOD purgatory by mid-December. “It’s bittersweet,” Sweeney reflected in a recent Vanity Fair chat, addressing her post-Euphoria pivot to thrillers. “Films like this deserve to be discovered, not buried in paywalls. But hey, if it gets people talking about consent and curiosity, I’ll take the chaos.” Her career trajectory only amps the urgency: post-Voyeurs, Sweeney conquered rom-coms with Anyone But You ($220 million worldwide), horror with Immaculate (a $20 million earner on scares alone), and now eyes prestige with The Housemaid (December 19, 2025, opposite Amanda Seyfried). But The Voyeurs remains her boldest swing at genre revival—a film that dared to make erotic thrillers sexy again, flaws and all.

For newcomers, dive in for the heat: Sweeney’s unapologetic sensuality in rain-soaked confessionals and candlelit trysts sets pulses racing, while the score (by Rob Barbato) throbs like a guilty heartbeat. Veterans, revisit for the layers: Mohan’s script, laced with meta winks (a character quips, “We’re all just extras in someone else’s movie”), rewards rewatches with foreshadowing you missed the first time. And that ending? Without spoilers, it’s the kind that demands immediate discussion—text your group chat at 2 a.m., because sleep won’t come easy.

As December ticks toward Tubi’s purge, The Voyeurs stands as a testament to Sweeney’s fearlessness: a star who turns vulnerability into voltage, turning a divisive thriller into a cultural conversation starter. Don’t let it vanish without a fight—fire up Tubi, dim the lights, and peer into Pippa’s world one last time. Who knows? You might just spot your own reflection staring back, secrets and all.

In a streaming landscape littered with forgettable filler, The Voyeurs is the rare film that lingers like a half-remembered dream—erotic, eerie, and utterly essential. Binge it before it’s gone, and join the chorus: Sydney Sweeney isn’t just hot; she’s the spark that reignites the screen.