Lights, Camera, Nope
Every horror movie starts with a bad decision. In The Cutting Room (2015), that bad decision is threefold: the students choosing to make their documentary, the filmmakers choosing to make this movie, and you choosing to watch it.
Written and directed by Warren Dudley, The Cutting Room is yet another entry in the long, twitchy line of found-footage horror films that make you wonder if the genre itself is cursed. Shot in the underground tunnels of Newhaven Fort, the movie promises claustrophobic tension, urban legends, and cyberbullying commentary—what it delivers instead is a feature-length PSA for why you should always drop out of media studies.
The Setup: Students, Stress, and Shaky Cams
Our intrepid heroes—Raz (Parry Glasspool), Charlie (Lucy-Jane Quinlan), and Jess (Lydia Orange)—are college students making a final project for their Media Studies class. Already, this premise feels like a cry for help. The trio decides to investigate a local cyberbullying case and the mysterious disappearance of two girls. Naturally, instead of reporting it to the police like functioning members of society, they grab a camera and head to an abandoned army barracks.
Because nothing says “responsible journalism” like crawling into a series of underground tunnels with one flashlight and no backup.
The abandoned barracks, we’re told, are haunted—or maybe just home to a deranged killer, or a metaphor for the death of the found-footage genre. The details are vague, the tension thinner than student Wi-Fi, and the camera work about as stable as a drunk pigeon.
Meet the Cast: Future Victims and Current Regrets
Raz, the cameraman and main character, is the sort of protagonist who makes you nostalgic for silence. He’s meant to be the sarcastic everyman, but most of his dialogue sounds like improv that even he doesn’t believe in. His job is mostly to hold the camera and breathe heavily while bad things happen to other people.
Charlie is his girlfriend, and she fills the traditional horror role of “the one who should’ve dumped him before the movie started.” She’s skeptical at first, but not skeptical enough to skip exploring a murder tunnel with her boyfriend and a tripod.
Jess, their third wheel and emotional support classmate, rounds out the group as the “nice one.” You know, the character archetype that exists solely to die so the others can briefly feel bad about it before moving on.
The rest of the supporting cast is so forgettable they might as well have been replaced with subtitles reading “victim #4” and “narrative filler.”
The Found Footage Problem: Found Footage Fatigue
Let’s be clear: found footage isn’t inherently bad. The Blair Witch Project (1999) did it brilliantly. Paranormal Activity(2007) milked it for terror. But The Cutting Room handles it like someone found an old camcorder and said, “What if we filmed a headache?”
The film uses every found-footage cliché in the book: jerky handheld shots, constant camera malfunctions, and night-vision close-ups of confused faces whispering, “Did you hear that?”
Yes, we heard it. It’s the sound of your plot gasping for air.
Instead of enhancing realism, the shaky cinematography feels like a desperate attempt to hide the lack of scares. At one point, I swear the scariest thing on screen was a battery warning light.
The problem with The Cutting Room is that it mistakes nausea for fear. Every time something remotely interesting might happen, the camera whips around like it’s allergic to focus. You’ll see more of the floor than the supposed monster, and by the end, you’ll start to suspect that the real villain is vertigo.
The Horror (or Lack Thereof)
There are two kinds of found-footage horror: the kind that builds dread through realism, and the kind that hopes darkness will do the work for it. The Cutting Room falls firmly into the latter camp.
The “malevolent force” haunting the tunnels is never really explained, because that would require the movie to have ideas. Is it a ghost? A murderer? The ghost of a murderer? The script shrugs and says, “Yes.”
Instead of genuine terror, we get a series of cheap jump scares, awkward silences, and people saying, “We should leave,” and then not leaving. By the time the first real “scary” moment hits—a blurry figure in the distance—it’s less “OMG!” and more “Okay, but can we go home now?”
Even the film’s supposed climax feels like someone misplaced the instructions for suspense. The characters scream, the camera falls over, and the audience checks how much time is left. Spoiler: too much.
The Message: Cyberbullying, Sort Of
The film tries to root its horror in the modern menace of cyberbullying, which could’ve been interesting if it wasn’t treated like an afterthought. The missing girls are supposedly victims of online harassment, but once the trio enters the tunnels, the subplot gets buried faster than a bad Reddit thread.
It’s as if the filmmakers realized halfway through that talking about social issues was harder than just throwing people into a dark room and calling it commentary.
If The Cutting Room is a metaphor for the dangers of online cruelty, it’s fitting—because watching it feels like being bullied by a movie.
The Setting: One Location, Infinite Boredom
The film’s biggest selling point is its location—Newhaven Fort’s maze of underground tunnels. On paper, it’s the perfect horror setting: dark, claustrophobic, and dripping with history. In practice, it’s just… tunnels.
Lots of tunnels. Long tunnels. Identical tunnels. Tunnels filmed so poorly you’ll think you’re watching someone’s dashcam footage of a nightmare commute.
By the halfway point, the movie feels less like a horror film and more like a tourism video for people who enjoy getting lost underground.
Every scene in those tunnels blends together until you’re not sure who’s where or why. It’s like watching Scooby-Doo without the dog, the jokes, or the resolution.
Performances: Sincere Terror or Just Cold?
To be fair, the cast seems genuinely frightened, but that might just be because they filmed in an actual freezing fort. Everyone’s performance oscillates between “mild panic” and “trying to remember their lines in the dark.”
Parry Glasspool does his best as Raz, but his constant commentary drains whatever tension might exist. Lucy-Jane Quinlan brings earnestness to Charlie, though she’s ultimately trapped in a script that doesn’t deserve her effort. Lydia Orange as Jess fares the worst—her disappearance is treated with the emotional weight of losing a sandwich.
By the end, you stop rooting for them to survive and start rooting for the end credits.
Editing: Death by Cutaway
For a film called The Cutting Room, you’d expect sharp editing. Instead, it’s like the footage was spliced together by a raccoon with ADHD. Scenes start and stop without rhythm, cutting between mundane conversations and incoherent screams.
When the characters die—and of course they do—you’re left wondering if you missed something important or if the movie just gave up halfway through the sequence. Either way, you’ll feel like you’re trapped in that tunnel, waiting for release.
Final Thoughts: Please Delete This Project
The Cutting Room wants to be a chilling exploration of fear, technology, and youthful curiosity. What it actually is, is 90 minutes of dimly lit confusion and amateur camerawork masquerading as art.
It’s not scary, it’s not insightful, and it’s not even enjoyably bad—it’s just… there. Like a haunted GoPro ad with aspirations of meaning.
If the goal of found-footage horror is immersion, then congratulations: I’ve never felt more like a trapped college student regretting every choice that led me here.
Final Score: 2/10
A dark, disorienting maze of clichés, poor lighting, and wasted potential. If you’re looking for genuine horror, the only thing to fear here is the runtime.
