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. It Feeds is a horror film that does just that. From its opening frames, it doesn’t ease you in with atmospheric whispers or slow-building unease. Instead, it charges forward like a bat out of hell, dragging you into a nightmarish fever dream of grief, guilt, and 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. Swaddled in gauze, face pale and ghosted by fear, she’s clearly not just sick, she’s being consumed. Not symbolically, but quite literally. 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. 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. 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. Where her mother shuts down, Jordan engages. 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. 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. 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, meanwhile, is the most vulnerable and the most affected. She’s not just being attacked by a monster, she’s been failed by every adult in her life.
The demon is not just a monster. It’s metaphor incarnate. 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. It’s the consequence of pretending we’re okay when we’re not.
That metaphor carries through in the climax, where the personal and supernatural collide in a final confrontation. Cynthia is finally forced to engage, not just with the demon, but with her daughter, her failures, and her past. The result is a cathartic, if slightly chaotic, payoff. It doesn’t tie everything up neatly, but it lands where it counts, which is in the heart.
The characters in the film are really good as well, and in a film where exposition is heavy and the emotional stakes run high, that could have made or broke the film. Jordan grounds the story with a quiet strength, while Riley’s fragility never comes off as weakness. Randall, Riley’s father, adds some moral ambiguity, broken, grieving, and perhaps the film’s most dangerous character not wearing a demon suit.
That said, It Feeds isn’t without flaws. The pacing borders on abrupt, and there are moments when scenes feel rushed particularly in emotional beats that could’ve benefited from breathing room. 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. It Feeds is a movie that aims high. It wants to be scary, yes, but it also wants to say something. About the weight of inherited pain. About the cost of emotional avoidance. 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. It doesn’t just shock, it resonates. 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.