'Faces of Death' review: Horror in the age of endless engagement

Courtesy of IFC/Shudder

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Inspired by the 1978 snuff-film oddity, co-writer and director Daniel Goldhaber’s “Faces of Death” feels like the first slasher of the decade to truly and fully capture the twisted feedback loop of content creation, influencer culture, and online moderation. With slick digital savvy, a streak of gnarly violence, and a surprisingly thoughtful backbone, Goldhaber delivers a meta horror film that doesn’t just comment on the social media age but surgically takes it apart.

Goldhaber’s previous film, “How to Blow Up a Pipeline,” was a pressure-cooker thriller that thrived on escalating tension and moral urgency. That same restless intensity fuels “Faces of Death,” but here it’s redirected toward a modern reinterpretation of its infamous namesake. The original film was less narrative than spectacle, blending staged and real footage of death under the pretense of a clinical examination of mortality. Goldhaber doesn’t remake or sequel that film. Instead, he borrows the title and the ethos, then builds something wholly his own: a lived-in world that understands our culture’s hunger for virality and the violence we casually scroll past to get it.

One of the film’s sharpest instincts is its refusal to treat this premise as cheap exploitation. Goldhaber actually has something to say, and more importantly, he knows how to say it without slipping into empty sermonizing. His target is the modern internet ecosystem itself, one that profits immensely from outrage and horror while pretending neutrality. As one character bluntly puts it, “I am part of the attention economy and business is booming.” That line functions less as exposition than as thesis.

The film opens by introducing Margot, played with impressive restraint and steel by Barbie Ferreira, sitting at a sterile desk clicking through horrific videos at impossible speed. She’s a content moderator, tasked with deciding in literal seconds what’s fit for public consumption. It is thankless, numbing work, and the film smartly emphasizes the absurd moral inversions baked into these systems. Videos depicting sexual assault, drug use, and graphic violence often squeak through, while videos meant to educate or help, like demonstrations on administering Narcan or promoting safe sex, are flagged and removed. This is not subtle commentary, but it doesn’t need to be. The point lands because it’s accurate.

When Margot begins to notice a pattern in a series of mannequin-based death videos that look ripped straight from the original “Faces of Death,” something clicks. She can’t tell if the deaths are real, but she knows enough to feel alarmed. Her attempts to raise concerns with coworkers and supervisors are met with indifference. They are desensitized, exhausted, and ultimately uninterested. Even a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it appearance by Charli XCX underscores the point: everyone here is disposable, including the people tasked with keeping the platform “safe.”

Naturally, when institutional channels fail her, Margot turns to Reddit. Of course she does. Few moments in recent horror films more perfectly encapsulate the current state of online validation and amateur sleuthing. This decision inadvertently connects her to the film’s killer, played by Dacre Montgomery, a digital-age predator who wants what the internet has taught him to want: attention, recognition, and validation at any cost.

From there, “Faces of Death” settles into a methodical and unnervingly contemporary slasher rhythm. The killer is not a mindless brute or supernatural entity, but a savvy manipulator who understands algorithms, outrage cycles, and the internet’s willingness to amplify cruelty. Goldhaber wisely avoids making him inscrutable. His motivations are painfully obvious, and that’s the point. When the film shows how easily he glides through systems, tracks IP addresses, and ends up on victims’ doorsteps within hours, it taps into a very real, very modern fear. The horror isn’t just the violence. It’s the access.

The film also takes time to unpack Margot’s own history and the personal trauma that led her into content moderation in the first place. Some viewers may find this underdeveloped, but it gives Margot a specificity that many slasher protagonists lack. She isn’t merely reactive. She’s driven by guilt, responsibility, and a genuine desire to stop harm. That grounding makes her mistakes more painful and her perseverance more compelling.

Crucially, the film understands the bitter irony at the heart of its premise. Every attempt Margot makes to warn the public only feeds the killer’s machine. Outrage becomes fuel. Exposure becomes encouragement. In a culture obsessed with death and spectacle, even resistance can be repurposed as content. Goldhaber connects these dots with confidence, showing how systems built on engagement cannot distinguish between accountability and amplification.

“Faces of Death” largely succeeds because it takes its characters seriously and commits to its ideas all the way through. Ferreira brings grit and resolve to Margot, making her someone worth rooting for, while Montgomery leans into his role’s unsettling charisma without romanticizing it. The film sticks the landing, resisting the urge to undercut its themes for irony or shock.

I never saw the original “Faces of Death,” and reactions to it remain deeply divided. But Goldhaber’s film doesn’t need that legacy to justify itself. This is less a remake than a spiritual cousin, one that understands the horror of our moment and isn’t afraid to stare directly at it. In doing so, “Faces of Death” earns its place as a sharp, unsettling entry in modern horror, and maybe the most honest slasher we’ve had in years.

Grade: B+

FACES OF DEATH is now playing in theaters.