Hell Fest

Walking into a professional "haunt" during October is a specific kind of psychological contract. You pay fifty bucks to let a theater major in a latex mask invade your personal space while you pretend not to be terrified. The thrill comes from the safety net; you know the chainsaw has no chain, and the blood is just corn syrup and red dye #40. Hell Fest (2018) takes that safety net and shreds it with a blunt hunting knife.

I watched this film on my laptop while waiting for a delayed flight at O'Hare, sitting next to a woman who was intensely crocheting a neon green sweater. Every time a jump scare hit, I’d flinch, and she’d look at me like I was the one having a breakdown. Honestly, the bright yarn was a perfect visual companion for a movie that looks like it was filmed inside a giant, murderous glow-stick.

Neon-Drenched Dread

Directed by Gregory Plotkin, who sharpened his teeth editing masterpieces like Get Out and Happy Death Day, Hell Fest understands the geography of fear. The plot is as lean as a rack of ribs: a group of college students—led by the sensible Natalie (Amy Forsyth) and the high-energy Taylor (Bex Taylor-Klaus)—head to a traveling horror carnival. Unbeknownst to them, a masked killer known as "The Other" has turned the park into his personal grocery store.

What makes this work isn't the script, which is fairly standard "don't go in there" fare. It’s the production design. The park feels lived-in and massive. It’s a sensory overload of fog machines, strobe lights, and intricately themed "scare zones" that make you wish the place actually existed (minus the homicide). Plotkin uses his editor’s eye to keep the pacing relentless. He captures the specific anxiety of being in a crowd where everyone is wearing a mask—it’s the ultimate "hidden in plain sight" scenario that turns every background extra into a potential threat.

The Mundanity of Evil

In an era where horror was leaning heavily into "elevated" territory—think the grief-stricken shadows of Hereditary or the social metaphors of Us—Hell Fest felt like a defiant throwback. It doesn’t want to talk about your trauma; it wants to show you a mallet to the cranium.

The killer, "The Other," is a fascinatingly boring antagonist. He doesn’t have a tragic backstory or a supernatural gimmick. He’s just a guy in a hoodie and a cracked mask who happens to be a calculated predator. He looks like he bought his entire outfit at a Spirit Halloween clearance sale, and that’s exactly why he’s scary. He’s the person you’d walk past in the food court without a second thought. This mundane quality is reinforced by a chilling final beat that reminds us that real monsters go home to suburban houses and do their own laundry.

The cast does a lot with very little. Bex Taylor-Klaus is the standout, bringing a chaotic, infectious energy that makes you actually care when things go south. Amy Forsyth plays the "Final Girl" trope with a grounded vulnerability, though the movie doesn't give her quite enough character meat to chew on. These aren't just body-count fodder; they feel like a group of friends you might actually meet at a bar, even if their decision-making skills under pressure are questionable at best.

A Slasher for the Instagram Era

Released during the 2018 slasher revival (the same year as David Gordon Green’s Halloween), Hell Fest struggled slightly at the box office, bringing in about $18 million on a $5.5 million budget. It wasn't a flop, but it was overshadowed by the return of Michael Myers. Looking back at it now, however, it feels like a vital piece of contemporary horror. It captures the social media age's obsession with "experiences"—the need to document every scare, the bravado of the "I'm not scared" selfie, and the blurred lines between performance and reality.

Behind the scenes, the film benefitted from the muscle of producer Gale Anne Hurd (of The Walking Dead and Aliens fame), which explains why a $5 million movie looks like it cost triple that. The score by Bear McCreary is another secret weapon, blending traditional slasher synth with carnival-inspired discordance that keeps your teeth on edge. Interestingly, one of the writers on the project was Akela Cooper, who would later go on to write the cult hit M3GAN, and you can see flashes of that same "knows-exactly-what-this-movie-is" confidence here.

Hell Fest doesn't reinvent the wheel, but it polishes the spokes until they gleam. It’s a movie that understands that sometimes, the most effective horror isn't a ghost or a demon—it's the realization that the person standing right behind you in the ticket line might not be playing along.

Hell Fest is a lean, mean, neon-soaked thrill ride that thrives on its atmosphere. While it follows the slasher playbook a bit too closely to be a genre-defining classic, its commitment to practical effects and its clever use of a theme park setting make it a perfect October watch. It’s the cinematic equivalent of a funnel cake: it might not be a gourmet meal, but it’s exactly what you want when you’re at the fair. Don't expect a revolution, just a really fun way to spend 89 minutes looking over your shoulder.