“Blink Twice” opens with a blurry close-up of a frog that then comes into glittering focus. The tone is eerie; the image is eerie, intriguing, mysterious and trippy. That describes the film, too. “Blink Twice” is the first feature directed by Zoë Kravitz, who also co-wrote it (with E.T. Feigenbaum), and it’s a post-#MeToo feminist party-girl nightmare thriller shot with an unusual sense of intimacy. Kravitz, the veteran actress (“The Batman,” “Kimi,” “Big Little Lies”), doesn’t rely on the standard grammar of banal medium-close/POV film. She composes the film from vivid close-ups, using each shot (a cocktail, a glance, a social media overlay) to tell a story and draw us into the center of an encounter, making us stare and experience it at the same time. Her technique is captivating; this is the work of a born filmmaker.

I wouldn’t call Blink Twice a horror film, but it does have some pretty terrifying roots. It follows Frida (Naomie Ackie), a naive but socially ambitious waitress at an upscale restaurant who is invited to the private island of a famous tech billionaire named Slater King (Channing Tatum). Once there, she joins the other select young women who have been invited and the men present (most of whom work for the King-Tech company) and embarks on a luxurious party vacation that never ends. Against the backdrop of a tropical paradise, the fancy drinks flow freely, the psychedelic drugs are handed out, the gourmet dinners are served, and the accommodations (exotic perfumes, million-thread-count sheets, free clothing) are the ultimate dream resort.

In other words, it’s all part of a super-elite fantasy that’s too good to be true. Soon, the audience starts asking the same questions as Frida: What’s the catch? What’s the cost? What’s really going on here?

Slater King, played by Channing Tatum with a soft beard and gentle grin, is a world-class charmer (though he got in trouble for unspecified misbehavior and is now “in therapy”). He sends a good-humor signal that isn’t compelling on the surface but becomes so relentless after a while that there’s something sinister about it. The high-end party atmosphere, fueled by tasty pinpricks like James Brown’s “People Get Up and Drive Your Funky Soul,” is all about “freedom to do what you want,” but it’s more than a little cultish. The vibe is corporate hedonism. If the women don’t smile and flirt in the right way, they’re seen as not on board with the program.

“Blink Twice” is sometimes reminiscent of “Midsommar,” Ari Aster’s sun-drenched nightmare fantasy in a white cotton dress about an American couple’s vacation in a Swedish commune, which turns out to be Be a cult. That film had the dark appeal of a forbidden fantasy. But “Blink Twice,” despite some very high-flying twists, has its roots in real-world sexual menace. The film recalls the sagas of sex offenders like Jeffrey Epstein, who brought vacationers (and other sex offenders) to his vacation island, and Bill Cosby, who used drugs to commit his crimes. For a while in “Blink Twice,” there are hints that something very strange is going on. Frida drips steak juice on her dress… and a little later, the stain is gone. She keeps noticing dirt under her fingernails. And what about the mysterious maid (María Elena Olivares) who keeps popping up like a spawn of “The Gondolas in Mourning”? Her main job seems to be to kill the large, poisonous yellow snakes that populate the island. But why? (As it turns out, the snake venom in this movie is truth serum.)

Naomi Ackie, so great as Whitney Houston in “I Wanna Dance with Somebody,” leaves her mark here as a starstruck climber who knows how to get cool. With short hair, she resembles an early ’60s R&B star, but she has a strikingly layered contemporary presence. We can see that Frida idolizes Slater, to the point that she infiltrates the white-walled King Tech party where she’s hired as a waitress. She thinks she’s hit the jackpot when he invites her to the island, even as her big, flashing detective doe eyes start to spot warning signs.

Frida has brought her best friend Jess (Alia Shawkat) with her and feels protected. The film seems to revolve around the idea that Slater, Prince Charming, has fallen in love with her; when we see the cautious interplay between her and Sarah (Adria Arjona), the longtime star of the reality show “Survivor,” we think the rivalry between them will drive the story forward. But that’s just one of Kravitz’s sleight of hand tricks.

The men seem arrogant, without excessive spooky, from Christian Slater’s executive big shot to Lucas the beanpole engineering wizard (Levon Hawke) to Tom the cuddly nerd (Haley Joel Osment) and Cody the chef, played by Simon Rex as an unctuous New Age nutrition guru. They’re not portrayed as villains, more as representative average guys. But that’s kind of the point. As the film slowly reveals what’s going on, they turn out to be versions of the Ben Kingsley character from Death and the Maiden, living out the dark sides of ordinary men. But if Frida and her fellow guests on the island are victims, why are they so in the dark about what’s going on, day after day?

The answer is simultaneously bloodcurdling, and comes from a scenario that at least flirts with a kind of chemical science fiction (though it’s portrayed all too realistically). The film’s revelations may ultimately be less narratively compelling than its setup, but its twists and turns pull you along with a frightening logic, functioning as both story and metaphor. Blink Twice emerges as a feminist allegory of memory, which it presents in a literal and thrilling way. But Zoë Kravitz, working with a brash flair, also makes a larger statement about all the things women are asked (and asked themselves) to forget. In Blink Twice, life can be a dream. The real nightmare happens when you wake up.