It Feeds is a supernatural horror film and is directed by Chad Archibald, and the cast includes Ashley Greene, Shayelin Martin, Shawn Ashmore, Ellie O'Brien, Juno Rinaldi, Julian Richings.
My Thoughts on It Feeds
There’s something refreshing, and almost confrontational, about a horror film that skips the foreplay and dives headfirst into dread, and It Feeds is a horror film that does just that, and it doesn’t ease you in with atmospheric whispers or any slow-building unease, it charges forward like a bat out of hell, dragging you into a nightmarish fever dream of grief, guilt, and some more generational trauma.
Oh, and demonic possession, of course.
We’re introduced to Riley, a teenager whose entire body looks like it’s been tenderized by some unholy force, with a pale face and ghosted by fear, she’s clearly not just sick, she’s being consumed, not symbolically, but quite literally, as clinging to her body is a grotesque, parasitic entity that only she and her therapist, Cynthia, can see.
Cynthia, who is the one adult who actually witnesses this horror, freezes, and then runs, and as a therapist, she’s supposed to be the one guiding others through trauma, but in a cruel inversion, she becomes the one most unequipped to face it, and it's a brilliant piece of character irony that sets the tone for the film’s deeper subtext.
The responsibility then shifts to Cynthia's daughter, Jordan, who becomes the films true center, and where her mother shuts down, Jordan engages, and she becomes a reluctant investigator, peeling back layers of Riley’s past while inching closer to a truth that becomes harder to ignore - this demon doesn’t just want Riley. It’s hungry for Jordan, too.
This is a film that wastes little time, and within 15 minutes we’re moving between the real world and psychic dreamscapes that look like they were designed by a committee of surrealists with a grudge, where corridors throb. shadows slither. furniture levitates in defiance of physics and logic - it’s horror as a visual metaphor.
But even as the film bombards us with this imagery, it maintains a surprisingly strong emotional arc, as Cynthia, Jordan, and Riley form a triad of psychological wounds, each shaped by pain, loss, and emotional abandonment.
Cynthia’s avoidance becomes a kind of generational curse, Jordan's pursuit of truth doubles as an effort to break the cycle, and Riley is the most vulnerable and the most affected, where she’s not just being attacked by a monster, she’s been failed by every adult in her life.
This demon is not just a monster, it’s metaphor incarnate, where it doesn’t kill quickly, it feeds (See what I did?), slowly, and relentlessly, it latches onto its victims, and grows stronger as they grow weaker, and thrives on denial and repression.
It’s grief, it’s guilt, and it’s the consequence of pretending we’re okay when we’re not, and that metaphor carries through in the climax, where the personal and supernatural collide in a final confrontation, where Cynthia is finally forced to engage, not just with the demon, but with her daughter, her failures, and her past.
The result is slightly chaotic payoff, where it doesn’t tie everything up neatly, but it lands where it counts, which is in the heart.
The pacing does border on abrupt at times though, and there are moments when scenes feel rushed particularly in emotional beats that could’ve benefited from some breathing room, and the dialogue also occasionally veers into expositional overload, and certain narrative shortcuts, particularly around Cynthia’s psychological spiral, might frustrate some, as it did me.
But these issues don’t overshadow the film’s ambition, because It Feeds is a movie that aims high, and while it wants to be scary, it also wants to say something - about the weight of inherited pain, about the cost of emotional avoidance, and about how the monsters we don’t deal with don’t just disappear, they pass themselves down.
It Feeds is a frenetic, visually inventive, and emotionally charged entry in the modern horror canon, where Archibald blends psychological tension with supernatural horror in a way that feels both personal and operatic.
While far from perfect, as it does have flaws, it’s still a reminder of what horror does best: externalize what we’re too afraid to name.
Watch it. Unpack it. Then maybe call your therapist.