In an age of formulaic jump-scare factory output, It Feeds stands out for something increasingly rare in horror: it feels made by people who understand the genre. Directed by Chad Archibald (Bite, I’ll Take Your Dead) and brought to life by Canada’s Black Fawn Films, this indie supernatural thriller wears its influences on its sleeve: The Cell, The Conjuring, It Follows, but still manages to carve out a shadowy corner of its own. Anchored by a committed performance from Ashley Greene and boasting an award-winning monster designed to haunt your dreams, It Feeds punches far above its budgetary weight class, delivering scares, sadness, and surprises in equal measure.
Greene plays Cynthia, a psychic therapist who specializes in walking patients through the literal corridors of their darkest traumas. But the real center of the film is her teenage daughter Jordan (Ellie O’Brien), who inherits her mother’s gift, and her curse. When Jordan breaks protocol and tries to help a haunted girl named Riley, she unleashes something ancient, clawed, and hungry. This wraith-like demon doesn’t just spook or scratch. It feeds. And once it’s latched on, the only way out is through.
While the premise may seem familiar, Archibald isn’t just rehashing ghost story tropes. He threads the narrative with dreamscape sequences that feel like low-budget Buñuel by way of Wes Craven. Jagged edits, flooded rooms, warped memories, and a sense of spectral logic that pulls the viewer deeper into psychological horror. There’s more imagination here than in most studio releases twice its size. And the creature, a long-fingered, shadow-cloaked entity, is a practical FX gem, creepy in movement, iconic in silhouette, and memorable enough to take home Best Creature at Panic Fest 2025.
But It Feeds is more than its monster. What gives the film its bite is the emotional undercurrent. Cynthia’s reluctance to get involved isn’t cowardice; it’s trauma. Her husband died confronting a similar entity. And Greene plays her with quiet resolve and bubbling guilt. When Jordan charges forward in spite of her mother’s warnings, the generational echo of bravery and recklessness takes center stage. The film is, in some sense, about inherited fear and how breaking cycles of silence is the only way to starve the darkness.
The scares themselves are rooted in classic tension, and yes, there are a few too many slow hallway creeps followed by loud bangs. But Archibald offsets these with real narrative stakes. Children are in danger, and the film doesn’t shy away from the emotional weight of that threat. There are moments of real despair here, scenes of suicide, trauma, and child endangerment that give the horror a gut-level sting. And yet, it never feels bleak. There’s compassion even in the film’s darkest corners.
Like much of Black Fawn’s work, It Feeds doesn’t try to reinvent horror. It simply respects it and that’s half the battle. The production design is tactile and lived-in, the performances grounded, and the monster mythology just vague enough to invite multiple interpretations. It may not shake the genre to its bones, but it absolutely deserves a seat at the table, or maybe a space in the shadows behind it.
For those tired of horror that’s all bark and no soul, It Feeds is a satisfying throwback with teeth. Keep your franchise reboots. I’ll take my horror like this, handmade, heartfelt, and just a little haunted.
4/5 Stars
