‘House Of Spoils’ Review – A Flavorless Feast Of Frights That Leaves You Craving Something Better

Ah, food. I’ve always seen myself as a foodie—someone who thrives on discovering new restaurants and savoring all kinds of flavors. Cooking has been a lifelong obsession, constantly testing out new ingredients and perfecting my own recipes. When I was a kid, I used to want to be a chef, completely captivated by the idea of creating culinary masterpieces. I still enjoy watching the Food Network, fascinated by the world of culinary artistry. And, of course, my love for horror has always been just as intense. So when I came across House of Spoils, a film that fuses culinary chaos with spine-chilling thrills, I knew I had to see it. Combining two of my passions in one film? I obviously couldn’t pass it up!

House of Spoils, directed by Bridget Savage Cole and Danielle Krudy, attempts to whisk together a recipe of high-stakes culinary ambition and supernatural dread. Starring Ariana DeBose, Barbie Ferreira, and Arian Moayed, this film sets out to craft a tense, nerve-shattering experience. Unfortunately, much like an overworked souffle, it collapses before delivering its full potential.

We follow a nameless chef (Ariana DeBose), eager to escape the overbearing presence of her mentor at an upscale restaurant. She seizes the chance to carve her own path, teaming up with a spirited restaurateur to open a space of her own. The promise of a fresh start quickly rots, though—literally. Food goes bad, insects crawl out from every nook and cranny, and stress rises like an unrelenting flame on the grill. But the real kicker? The restaurant is haunted by the ghost of a former owner, making sure the chef never has a moment of peace. Despite the nightmare unfolding in the kitchen, this chef is determined to make her dream work. Come hell, high water, or ghostly sabotage, she won’t let the flames die.

The opening moments had me ready to feast. The performances are, without question, the best part of House of Spoils. DeBose’s chef is a magnetic lead—determined, sharp, and endearing enough that you find yourself rooting for her even as things fall apart around her. She’s got an authenticity that makes the stakes feel personal, and there’s a fire in her performance that keeps the character engaging, even as the story stumbles. Barbie Ferreira, as the bubbly sous chef, is a scene-stealer, bringing a spark of life to every moment she’s in. Then, there’s Arian Moayed, playing a restaurateur with all the charm of a guy you’d love to party with—until you realize he’s also a ticking time bomb. His portrayal is layered, hinting at a mess of contradictions beneath the surface.

But as soon as the film veers into its horror elements, it starts losing its grip. What could have been a slow simmer of dread instead turns into a clumsy mess of gross-out moments. Spoiled food and bugs feel like easy, uninspired scares. I’m not here to be grossed out by moldy bread—I’m here for chills. Bugs? Sure, they’re icky, but they don’t hold enough weight to make you feel genuine terror. It’s like the movie missed the memo on what real psychological horror should be, opting instead for cringe-worthy visuals that simply aren’t scary.

That said, when the film leans into its witchy ghost, it does manage to serve up some atmospheric chills. Cole and Krudy show their strength when playing with shadows, crafting eerie moments that linger just long enough to make you uneasy. A few well-timed jump scares remind you of what House of Spoils could have been—if only it had let those unsettling moments take center stage. But the film keeps coming back to its overcooked idea of rotting food and insect infestations, undermining the more effective horror waiting in the wings.

The real disappointment comes as the credits roll. Without giving away too much, let’s just say the ending takes what could’ve been a tightly wrapped, edge-of-your-seat finale and completely flatlines it. All the tension fizzles out, leaving you with the disheartening realization that what should’ve been a savory dish has turned into a flavorless mess. It’s infuriating to invest time in a story only to watch it collapse like a poorly made soufflé in the final minutes.

Thematically, House of Spoils makes a feeble attempt at addressing the struggles of women in male-dominated fields, particularly in the culinary world. It’s a concept with potential—kitchens are notorious battlegrounds where women must fight for recognition. Yet, instead of letting this theme unfold organically, the film bombards us with clunky, on-the-nose dialogue about sexism that feels more like a dry Wikipedia entry. If you want to highlight the real challenges women face, don’t just preach—show us the blood, sweat, and tears. Make us feel the frustration firsthand, rather than listening to characters who sound like they’re reciting a feminist pamphlet.

In the end, House of Spoils is like a dish with all the right ingredients but no flavor. The performances are solid, and there are brief moments of tension, but the scares never really hit, and the story feels undercooked. House of Spoils serves up all the tension of a microwave TV dinner—bland, unsatisfying, and definitely not worth the wait. It’s more of a lukewarm attempt at horror, leaving you unsatisfied. If you’re hoping to spice up your spooky season, this one might leave you with a bad taste in your mouth.

House of Spoils will debut on Prime Video on October 3, 2024, courtesy of Amazon MGM Studios and Blumhouse.