Disclaimer: No Real Science Was Harmed in the Making of This Film
There are bad horror movies, and then there are The Removed (2013), which manages to feel like an entire semester of failed film school compressed into 95 minutes and gassed into submission. Directed by David McElroy, this so-called psychological thriller is about as psychological as a wet sponge and only thrilling if you’re a masochist.
It’s one of those low-budget “evil government experiment” films that think slapping a few gas masks on extras automatically makes them deep. Instead, it’s a case study in how to weaponize boredom. Watching it feels like being the subject of an actual experiment — only the hypothesis is “How long can a human endure cliché before death?”
The Premise: Science Meets Stupidity
Our protagonist is Lacie (Tuckie White), a college student whose tuition suddenly skyrockets — probably after her university installed new vending machines. Desperate for cash, she agrees to join a mysterious clinical trial because, as every horror fan knows, nothing bad ever happens to broke students who answer shady flyers.
The movie wastes no time getting creepy: Lacie’s phone rings the second she leaves her number, because apparently in this world, evil laboratories run on Verizon’s most efficient call plan. She’s interviewed by Dr. Detrick, a man so obviously villainous he might as well twirl his stethoscope like a mustache. The payment? A thousand bucks for one week of “tests.” Because that’s how science works — you get paid to die, not to learn.
The film then drags her to a sterile facility where the staff confiscate phones, dignity, and logic. There, she meets the other test subjects — a group of walking horror stereotypes so aggressively dumb they could make Darwin give up evolution.
The Guinea Pigs: Discount Breakfast Club of the Damned
The ensemble reads like someone built an AI and asked it to write a horror cast:
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Jake, the “funny guy,” whose jokes make you wish the gas got him first.
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Carter and Amanda, the horny couple whose main character arc is foreplay and death.
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Keisha, the serious one who reminds everyone this isn’t funny (it is, though, unintentionally).
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Riley, the shy good girl who clearly wandered in from a much better movie.
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Ty, the musclehead who exists to shout “We gotta get outta here!” like it’s his birthright.
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And of course, Killian, Lacie’s friend who recommended the trial and might be the worst wingman in horror history.
They’re all told they’re “doing their country a great service” — which should be the first clue to run. But no, these geniuses stay, bond over cafeteria food, and talk about their dreams while blissfully ignoring the sinister tone, the locked doors, and the nurse who looks like she just got fired from a Resident Evil prequel.
The Horror: Gas Them Till They’re Stupid
Soon enough, the group is ushered into private rooms where a gas — conveniently labeled “DO NOT INHALE” — gets pumped in. Lacie coughs, passes out, and wakes up feeling slightly nauseous, which, honestly, is also how the audience feels at this point.
From here, things go full biohazard panic on a budget. Amanda’s hair falls out, her face inflates like a stress ball, and she transforms into a human chew toy. The film calls it a mutation; I call it an allergic reaction to bad writing.
One by one, the subjects begin turning into hyper-aggressive maniacs, snarling, biting, and drooling. It’s rabies meets The Crazies, only with less tension and more visible boom mics.
The twist? The whole experiment is secretly being monitored by a Senator and his team, testing a chemical weapon that supposedly “turns people violent.” You know — because when you’re developing world-ending bioweapons, the first thing you do is outsource human testing to broke undergrads.
The Script: Sponsored by Contradictions
If the gas doesn’t kill you, the dialogue will. Every line feels like it was written by someone who’s only heard about human conversation through a broken intercom. Gems include:
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“We’re doing this for America!”
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“Why would you risk your life for a TV?”
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“My head hurts!” (Yes, Lacie. Ours too.)
The pacing is just as erratic. One moment it’s a dull group therapy session about capitalism, the next it’s a shaky-cam massacre in fluorescent lighting. There’s no tone, no rhythm — just random scenes duct-taped together by editing software that probably screamed for help.
And then there’s the “science.” Apparently, this gas weapon can turn anyone into a raving lunatic within minutes, unless you’re the protagonist, in which case you get full immunity until the final act. Science!
Daniel Baldwin: Because Why Not?
Yes, that Daniel Baldwin — the Baldwin brother who wandered too close to a casting call and decided to stay. He plays Senator Davis, the evil mastermind behind the experiment, who spends most of the movie sitting in a control room muttering lines like, “Excellent results,” and “Better than the AIDS project.”
You read that right. The film’s big “shocking” revelation is that the AIDS epidemic was actually an early government experiment. Because if you’re going to make a cheap horror film, why not casually accuse the U.S. of war crimes in between gore scenes? It’s offensive, absurd, and so tasteless it circles back to being funny.
Baldwin delivers his lines like he’s trying to remember whether his check cleared. His every smirk screams, “I’m too good for this movie,” which is objectively true.
The Direction: Flatline Cinema
David McElroy directs the film like he’s shooting a corporate training video for Hell. Every shot is lit like a janitor’s closet, every corridor looks like a repurposed dentist’s office, and the camera moves with all the grace of a Roomba chasing a mouse.
There’s zero atmosphere. The gas scenes should be claustrophobic and terrifying, but instead look like a college short film shot after someone stole a fog machine from Spirit Halloween.
Even the kills — which should at least be gory fun — are neutered by flat staging and terrible editing. Every attack is filmed from the neck up, presumably to save on fake blood. You know a horror movie’s in trouble when the scariest thing onscreen is the lighting budget.
The Ending: Dumb, Dark, and Deliriously Bad
By the time we reach the finale, everyone’s dead, infected, or regretting signing their contracts — both the characters andthe actors. Lacie makes a daring escape, only to get gunned down the moment she reaches daylight because, surprise, she’s infected too.
The Senator smiles creepily, announces the weapon a success, and immediately references AIDS again because apparently subtlety also died in this experiment. The movie ends with another recruitment flyer being posted at Lacie’s college, implying the experiment will continue — and so will the suffering of anyone who accidentally watches this.
The Verdict: The Real After Effect Is Regret
The Removed is what happens when you combine conspiracy theories, dollar-store science fiction, and acting so wooden it could start a campfire. It’s not scary, it’s not smart, and it’s not even bad in a fun way — it’s just a long, gas-fueled migraine.
It wants to be 28 Days Later. It ends up as 60 Minutes of Never Again.
The only real experiment here was seeing how far the filmmakers could stretch $50, a warehouse, and a Baldwin cameo. The results are in: failure.
Final Diagnosis: 🧪💀
1 out of 5 gas masks — one for effort, none for execution.
If you ever see a flyer for this movie, do what the test subjects should’ve done: run.
