There was a time when movie night meant more than endlessly scrolling through streaming menus. It meant debating what to watch with friends, digging through shelves, hunting for hidden DVD Easter eggs, and getting lost in bonus features that sometimes felt more interesting than the movie itself. Joseph Scrimshaw's Dead Media understands that feeling completely.
Part horror comedy, part love letter to physical media, and part meta-commentary on fandom itself, Dead Media follows Maggie (Sammi-Jack Martincak), a young woman trying to have a simple movie night with friends. After spending what feels like an eternity deciding what to watch, the group lands on a long-lost '90s cult horror film called Night of the Lurchers. Before they can settle in, Maggie's Uncle Heppy arrives with a DVD copy, insisting that the movie deserves to be experienced the way it was meant to be seen. Naturally, the disc turns out to be haunted, and before long the horrors inside begin spilling into the real world.
It's an instantly relatable setup. We've all spent twenty minutes staring at streaming menus while everyone argues over what to watch. Scrimshaw cleverly uses that modern frustration as a gateway into a story obsessed with the joys of older formats and the culture that surrounded them.
What makes Dead Media particularly charming is that it doesn't just celebrate DVDs as objects. It celebrates the entire experience. The film fondly remembers an era when special features actually felt special, when commentary tracks were film school for aspiring movie nerds, and when finding a hidden Easter egg buried in a menu felt like discovering a secret treasure.
The movie's biggest and smartest idea is that when characters get pulled inside the haunted DVD, they don't just enter the movie. They enter the bonus features, too. Scrimshaw understands that those behind-the-scenes featurettes, deleted scenes, and low-rent promotional videos were part of the experience. Even better, the film commits to the gimmick visually. The different sections of the DVD have their own textures and presentation styles, creating a fun variety of aesthetics rather than making everything look polished and uniform.
There's a lot of affection here, and it shows in every performance. Sammi-Jack Martincak continues to prove she's an effortlessly likable screen presence. She has an approachable girl-next-door quality that makes Maggie easy to root for, while still bringing enough emotional weight to ground the film's more absurd ideas. After enjoying her work in Incoming, it's great to see her get another showcase here.
The real MVP, however, may be Sam Landman as Uncle Heppy. As a proud physical media evangelist constantly defending DVDs and their importance, Heppy feels like every collector who has ever tried explaining to younger relatives why streaming simply isn't the same. His passion is infectious, his comedy lands consistently, and he emerges as the film's beating heart. Honestly, if you've ever argued that movies look better on disc, you'll probably see a little bit of yourself in him.
Anna Sundberg also delivers strong work as Rita Nast, while James Urbaniak and Bill Corbett elevate their supporting roles with veteran confidence. The cast members playing characters within the fictional DVD are often just as entertaining as those trapped outside it, which helps sell the film's layered reality-bending premise. The standouts are Landman, Martincak, and Sundberg, but nobody feels checked out. Everyone appears fully invested in the material.
That enthusiasm extends behind the camera as well. You can feel people having fun making this movie, and that energy becomes contagious.
The score deserves special mention. It captures the spirit of early '90s horror soundtracks while occasionally flirting with dreamy, off-kilter tones that evoke things like Twin Peaks. Add in a soundtrack filled with songs that sound strangely familiar without being recognizable, and the result is a nostalgic audio landscape that keeps the film playful and energetic.
Genre fans will likely spot shades of Stay Tuned and The Final Girls in the concept, though Scrimshaw brings a more punk-rock sensibility and indie spirit to the material. The practical makeup effects work well, the creature elements are effective, and the film grows increasingly meta as it unfolds.
Unfortunately, Dead Media doesn't always stick the landing. For all of its clever ideas, the film occasionally feels stuck in third gear. There are moments where the pacing drags, and the narrative becomes increasingly crowded by its own concepts. By the final act, there's a definite "too many cooks" quality to the storytelling. Scrimshaw keeps introducing interesting ideas, but not all of them receive the development they deserve.
The ending in particular becomes somewhat jumbled. The movie clearly wants its emotional resolution to hit hard, and while the themes are compelling, the payoff never quite reaches the level of impact the film seems convinced it has earned. It's clever, absolutely. Perhaps even very clever. But cleverness and emotional resonance aren't always the same thing.
That's ultimately the story of Dead Media as a whole.
Joseph Scrimshaw is undeniably talented and full of imagination. For a first feature, the ambition on display is impressive. At times it feels like he may have bitten off slightly more than he could chew, but I'd much rather watch a filmmaker swing for the fences than play it safe. Even when Dead Media stumbles, it's trying something different. And honestly, I found myself rooting for it the entire time.
I wanted to love Dead Media more than I did. Yet despite its flaws, I had a genuinely good time with it. It's funny, charming, nostalgic, and packed with references and observations that will resonate deeply with anyone who spent their youth navigating DVD menus, debating horror movie rules with friends, or obsessively searching for hidden Easter eggs.
For those people, Dead Media isn't just a horror comedy. It's a warm, weird reminder of why we fell in love with movies in the first place.
Jessie Hobson