Welcome to the Madhouse of Mediocrity
If you’ve ever wondered what would happen if someone tried to remake Session 9 after binge-watching Ghost Huntersand losing the will to live halfway through, look no further than Dark Feed. Written and directed by Shawn and Michael Rasmussen — the same duo who co-wrote The Ward, and apparently decided to test how little tension a horror film can contain — this 2013 exercise in cinematic fatigue answers one haunting question: Can a movie about madness make the audience lose their minds too?
Spoiler: Yes. It can.
Filmed in New England in one of the same abandoned psychiatric hospitals used in Shutter Island (a fact the Rasmussens will never let you forget), Dark Feed takes what should be a perfect horror setting — peeling paint, flickering lights, and ghosts of questionable hygiene — and somehow drains it of all atmosphere. What’s left is a film that feels less like a descent into insanity and more like a company training video for poor decision-making.
The Plot That Time Forgot
The premise is deceptively simple: a film crew, trying to save money, decides to shoot their low-budget horror flick inside an abandoned asylum. Naturally, it’s haunted. Naturally, everyone starts acting weird. Naturally, nobody notices because filmmakers are already weird by default.
Our crew consists of a collection of human-shaped cardboard cutouts who exist primarily to wander dark hallways and forget how flashlights work. There’s Jack (Michael Reed), the stressed-out director who looks perpetually one coffee away from a nervous breakdown; M.G. (Bree Elrod), the producer who’s both underpaid and underwritten; and a rotating cast of crew members whose personalities can be summed up by their IMDb roles: “DP,” “Sound Guy,” and “Pierced Girl.”
Once inside, the crew starts to unravel as the building “feeds” off their energy — hence the title Dark Feed, though it’s not clear if the movie’s referring to the haunted asylum or the audience’s Netflix queue being permanently stained by this experience.
Asylum of Bad Ideas
Let’s get something straight: abandoned psychiatric hospitals are cinematic gold. You could point a camera at any peeling wall and get instant creep factor. Yet Dark Feed somehow manages to make the setting feel about as scary as a middle school janitor’s closet.
The lighting? Inconsistent. The sound? Echoey enough to make you wonder if everyone’s acting inside a tin can. The scares? Let’s just say the true horror is realizing you’re only 30 minutes in.
The hospital itself allegedly “comes to life” — but the only thing coming to life here is the viewer’s desire to press fast-forward. There’s whispering in the halls, people talking to themselves, and several shots of flickering light bulbs that scream, “We ran out of budget but not runtime.”
The Madness of Method Acting (and Writing)
What makes Dark Feed particularly impressive is how it manages to waste such a solid concept with characters who are allergic to logic. You’d think, given the premise, someone would recognize that filming a horror movie in an abandoned asylum is a bad idea. But no — these people treat ghostly voices and mysterious blood stains like they’re just another Tuesday.
When the crew starts losing their minds, it’s impossible to tell if it’s the supernatural influence of the asylum or the natural consequence of trying to memorize dialogue this bad.
Take this line (I’m paraphrasing, but only slightly):
“The building… it’s feeding off us!”
No kidding, Jack. It’s feeding off my time, too.
Visual Effects by Windows 95
The movie flirts with supernatural imagery but never commits. Instead, we’re treated to a steady drip of dimly lit hallucinations, mild contortions, and the occasional figure darting by in the background — or maybe that’s just a crew member who forgot they were still filming.
When the horror does show up, it looks like it was rendered on the same software used to animate screensavers in 1998. There’s a scene where a ghostly figure crawls out of a bathtub that should be horrifying, but it looks like someone filmed a LARP session through a potato.
Even the makeup effects, which could’ve saved the film, are half-hearted. It’s as if the director told the makeup team, “Give me ‘insanity,’ but on a budget.” The result: a few dark circles under the eyes and some light drooling. Somewhere, The Exorcist is rolling in its pea soup.
The Sound of Madness (Literally)
Whoever mixed the sound for Dark Feed deserves a round of applause — from one hand clapping slowly in an empty room. The film’s audio is a horror experience all on its own. Characters mumble, footsteps echo for days, and every scare is punctuated by an eardrum-rupturing BWAAAAAA straight out of the “Generic Horror Sound Effects Vol. 3” folder.
At some point, the movie’s ambient noise becomes indistinguishable from the audience’s groans. It’s method filmmaking at its finest: the characters are going insane, and so are you.
The Ghost of Better Movies
The worst part about Dark Feed isn’t that it’s bad — it’s that you can see the faint outline of a good film struggling to escape. The idea of filmmakers being consumed by their own haunted set is clever and meta, a horror concept with potential to explore obsession, creativity, and madness. But the Rasmussens don’t seem interested in any of that.
Instead, they treat the idea like a checklist:
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Creepy location ✅
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Crazy eyes ✅
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Random possession scene ✅
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Incoherent ending ✅
By the final act, the story has devoured itself like the titular “feed.” Characters die offscreen, plot threads vanish, and the asylum remains as mysterious as the filmmakers’ understanding of pacing.
The ending tries to be ambiguous — is the asylum alive? Were they all insane from the start? Is this secretly a metaphor for indie filmmaking? The real answer is simpler: they ran out of coffee and just filmed whatever was left.
Cast & Crew (Mostly the Latter)
The performances range from “fine” to “someone please get this person a script supervisor.” Evalena Marie shows up as “Pierced Girl,” which tells you everything you need to know about character depth. Michael Reed as the director seems genuinely exhausted — not acting, just emotionally spent from being in this movie.
To their credit, everyone looks appropriately sweaty and terrified, though it’s never clear if that’s method acting or just the HVAC system failing.
A Feeding Frenzy of Clichés
You’ve seen every scene in Dark Feed before, just done better elsewhere. Lights flicker, doors slam, someone screams “Who’s there?” into the void, and the void politely declines to answer. There’s even a “creepy bathtub scene,” because no horror film set in a derelict building can resist a dirty tub cameo.
It’s a greatest-hits collection of horror clichés, played on repeat until you start to hallucinate jump scares in your peripheral vision.
Final Diagnosis: Terminal Boredom
Dark Feed is proof that location isn’t everything. You can film in the creepiest asylum in New England, but if your script is flatter than the EKG of your audience’s enthusiasm, you’re still in trouble.
At 83 minutes, it feels twice as long. The pacing is glacial, the scares predictable, and the dialogue unintentionally hilarious. By the time the credits roll, you’ll feel less like you watched a horror movie and more like you survived one.
It’s not the worst indie horror ever made, but it might be the most forgettable — a movie so generic even the ghosts seem bored.
Final Verdict
Dark Feed promised madness, possession, and terror. What it delivers is mild fatigue, budget lighting, and a newfound respect for the art of napping.
Final Rating: ★☆☆☆☆
A haunted asylum film so lifeless it needs its own exorcism. Watch at your own risk — or better yet, just rewatch Session 9 and spare yourself the cinematic lobotomy.
