‘House of Spoils’ Movie Review: Undercooked Arian DeBose Horror Spoils Its Feminist Broth


A still from 'House of Spoils'

A still from ‘House of Spoils’ Photo credit: Amazon Prime Video

The latest dish on Amazon’s Blumhouse menu arrives in a silver cloche with much fanfare, but it’s a pity it tastes little better than stale leftovers. Directed by the duo behind Sharp and Dark Blow the man down Bridget Savage Cole and Daniel Crudy – House of loot A curious amalgam of culinary drama and pagan horror: two flavors that didn’t have a particularly palatable historical run.

Oscar-winner Ariana DeBose takes center stage as an eponymous chef, plucked from a famous, testosterone-fueled kitchen and dropped into a remote estate in the Bunnies, where she hopes to launch her own restaurant. High-stakes endeavors are the kind that come naturally the bear Note among other culinary dramas where chefs teeter on the brink of brilliance or insanity (there is a faint echo of menu Here, however House of loot too shy to bite).

House of Spoils (English)

Director: Bridget Savage Cole and Daniel Crudy

Cast: Ariana DeBose, Barbie Ferrera, Ariane Moed, Martin Soukas, Amara Karan

Runtime: 101 minutes

Story Line: An aspiring chef opens a restaurant on a remote estate, but a ghostly presence soon threatens him with sabotage at every turn.

As the new head chef, DeBose’s character dives headfirst into this isolated, farm-to-table fantasy. Almost immediately, strange things begin to happen. There’s something off about the estate, an otherworldly presence lurking in the misty mornings and sweltering evenings. But instead of exuberant with tension, the film oversteps its predictable tropes and undercuts its meager scares.

A still from 'House of Spoils'

A still from ‘House of Spoils’ Photo credit: Amazon Prime Video

As the nameless chef tries to perfect his menu, he begins experimenting with, shall we say, more “earthy” ingredients – homegrown, a little dirty, maybe haunted? All of a sudden, the disguised guests gush over what looks like compost but tastes like heaven, proving once again that the stylish elite will eat almost anything as long as it’s dressed with artisanal herbs and served in a handmade ceramic dish.

DeBose delivers a sharp performance that’s confident, hungry, but undercut with a sense of growing confusion. As the pressure builds, her character begins to unravel, though not in the usual wide-eyed, scream-queen fashion. Rather, DeBose chews his way through the role like someone who’s been told so many times he’ll never make it — bitterness in his voice and movements. It’s an interesting take, but unfortunately, the script doesn’t allow him to fully lean into the chaos.

Its scariest moments, for all their fog-drenched aesthetics, feel gratuitous, including standard-issue jump scares that seem thrown into the stew because, well, it’s “Spooktober,” and horror sells. One can’t help but feel that the filmmakers had something more succinct in mind before someone in marketing reminded them that Blumhouse films had to be scary, not visceral – it ultimately isn’t.

What is fresh, however, is the film’s sharp commentary (however buried it may be) on the cutthroat food industry – something about the masculine world of haute cuisine and how women are expected to emulate their men if they want to succeed. The nameless chef, molded by Marcelo’s years of culinary bullying, takes on a hyper-masculine posture himself, barking sexist orders and dismissing his female colleagues in a way that feels pointed. But when he moves away from that world into the “wild, feminine” backyard of his new restaurant, he seems torn between the two, unsure whether he can embrace his own creative instincts or whether he must pretend to survive. . The film flirts with the idea of ​​culinary witchcraft – there’s an obvious metaphor about creation and transformation – but again, it’s more decoration than substance.

A still from 'House of Spoils'

A still from ‘House of Spoils’ Photo credit: Amazon Prime Video

Visually, the film is more decadent than I care to admit. Cinematographer Eric Lynn captures the luscious textures of supposedly gourmet food with a painterly eye, and Joe Hegedas’ food styling is top-notch. But beneath the pretty veneer lies a faint whiff of decay, both literal and figurative. There’s a scene where a dish appears to be crawling with insects, and it’s hard not to see the parallel: beneath all the gloss, something is feasting. It’s an image-to-death and the film doesn’t quite know what to do with it.

It’s a relatively safe act, even though the film ends up posing itself with one Midsomer-esque third act revelation. It desperately wants to satirize and scare at the same time, but achieves little and what’s left feels oddly creepy. It’s sad because with a bit more bite, House of loot Could be something really memorable, but instead leaves you hungry for more… obviously not in the intended way.

House of Spoils is currently streaming on Amazon Prime Video



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