'The Influencer Project' Review: Terminally Online

A content creator receives harassing messages in "The Influencer Project," a found-footage horror movie set in Copenhagen. That is the premise at the center of the film, which adopts the found-footage format — the technique of presenting the story as if the footage were discovered, not staged — to examine a life lived on screens.

The film's title points at its target. An "influencer project" is, by definition, a career built on visibility: the deliberate manufacture of an online persona, sustained by an audience that watches, comments and, in this case, turns hostile.

What is the film about?

The reviewer's verdict is compressed into two words: "Terminally Online." The phrase carries the review's critical judgment — the film, and perhaps its protagonist, exist in a state of complete immersion in internet life, one the review frames as terminal in both senses: totalizing and, given the genre, potentially fatal.

The setup places a content creator — a person whose profession is producing material for online platforms — inside a horror narrative driven by harassment. The harassing messages arrive; the found-footage conceit means the audience sees the intrusion through the same screens and recordings through which the creator lives and works.

Where does it take place?

Copenhagen. The Danish capital anchors the story geographically, distinguishing it from the American settings that dominate the found-footage tradition.

Why does the format matter?

Found-footage horror has long traded on the conceit of authenticity: what we watch appears to be real recorded material. For a story about a content creator, the device doubles on itself. The protagonist's professional output — posts, streams, recordings — becomes the medium of the horror. The harassment does not arrive from outside the frame; it arrives through it.

The review's title phrase, "Terminally Online," suggests the film treats online life not as a backdrop but as the condition itself — the horror emerges from the same channels that constitute the creator's career and identity.

Who is it for?

Viewers of found-footage horror, and anyone interested in films that take internet culture — creators, audiences, and the hostility that travels between them — as their subject. The premise is spare: one creator, a stream of harassing messages, a city, and a camera that never stops recording.

How the film develops that premise — whether the harassment escalates, who sends the messages, and what the Copenhagen setting contributes — is for audiences to discover, and for the full review to detail.

What the review makes clear is the film's diagnosis: a life conducted entirely online, in the glare of an audience, is the terrain on which this horror builds its house.