‘Feed’ review – Swedish influencer horror has obvious influences

By no means is Sweden a horror-making machine, but if you’ve been paying attention these last few years, there has been a detectable uptick in the country’s genre output. Like Britain, Sweden seems to have a less snooty attitude toward horror now, particularly movies like Feed (2022). Johannes Persson’s directorial debut shares similarities with recent Scandi-horrors, such as Halloween Park and The Conference, and just like them, this movie doesn’t hide its influences. Feed also happens to be about influencers, who, unfortunately, have become too common to see in my favorite genre.

With a cast of young and conventionally attractive Swedes making their way to an isolated and nature-adjacent location, it’s safe to assume Feed is a slasher. As the characters show up to their destination, someone brings up a legend about the nearby lake: A 17th-century local woman was accused of witchcraft, then drowned after having an iron mask secured to her face. Sounds a little like Jason Voorhees, except in this case, Märit the Witch is the one seeking fresh blood. Anyway, this colorful aside goes ignored until the anticipated terror starts up. First it’s a strange shape in the lake that only one character notices — psychiatrist-in-training Elin (Molly Nutley) is the designated outsider of the group — then a mysterious force drags the characters underwater, one by one. It all feels like phony horror content cooked up by the influencers’ manager, Jens (Joel Lützow), yet then someone gets incredibly hurt; Ava’s (Emelina Rosenstielke) foot is all but severed in the movie’s most effective moment of violence.

Backing up a bit, the characters of Feed have come to this struggling “glamping” site because, simply, they were paid to help boost business. Namely Josefin (Sofia Kappel), who is the actual ex-girlfriend of Elin’s current boyfriend, Dimman (Vincent Grahl), but due to the nature of their jobs, they have to pretend they’re still dating — at least until they can stage a public breakup for their followers. That backstory should be an indicator of the sort of interpersonal drama in store, however, the movie is wise not to delay its horror element. You get the gist of who’s who and who hates who, and that’s all that matters here. Refreshingly, the sinisterness happens sooner than later, and despite a few brief cool-down periods along the way, Feed keeps a steady pace. They’re pushing it with a near 100-minute runtime, yes, but I never grew weary.

With the main venue being a lakeshore, the systematic approach intrinsic to most slashers isn’t found here. The would-be victims tend to stay together, forcing their predator to stay out of sight. However, that doesn’t mean there aren’t any fright beats; Elin and the others are stranded after the boatsman is killed right in front of them. Instead of then being chased around in the woods, someone is often swimming (in vain) to retrieve the abandoned boat that could be everyone’s salvation, all while trying to avoid being pulled under by Märit. And Feed does a solid job of making the iron-masked witch seem plausible and intimidating in the story. For a second there, you might even believe she’s real.

Admittedly, Feed is pretty standard stuff for seasoned slasher fans. Once you figure out the formula in use, you pretty much know what lies ahead. Even then, this movie is better-looking than your most generic and under-the-radar slashers coming out nowadays, sans the egregiously and now-standard poor lighting in darker scenes. The characters leave no lasting impression, and the commentary about influencer culture — the harms of creating content that blurs the line between fact and fiction — is neither new nor overstated. It’s faint praise, but Feed is just a faintly enjoyable movie.