Let’s rewind the horror clock for a moment.
There was a time—late ’90s to early 2010s—when found footage movies ruled the horror game. You know the vibe: grainy VHS-style footage, shaky cams, a lot of screaming into the void, and that one guy who definitely shouldn’t have split off from the group. The Blair Witch Project opened the floodgates, and soon everyone with a GoPro and a haunted cabin idea thought they could replicate its magic.
The problem? Most couldn’t.
That’s what makes Found Footage: The Making of the Patterson Project such a delightful—and unhinged—surprise. It’s not just a riff on those shaky-cam horror flicks, it’s also a spoof, a satire, and oddly, a bit of a love letter to the genre it pokes fun at. Think This is Spinal Tap meets Paranormal Activity, with just a pinch of The Office awkwardness.
But wait, it gets weirder. It’s a movie about the making of a movie, which is being followed by a documentary crew. So yes, we’re three layers deep into mockumentary inception, and it’s glorious.
Found Footage is Dead. Long Live Found Footage!
You’d be forgiven for thinking the found footage trend had died, buried alongside other short-lived horror gimmicks (remember 3D slashers?). But the genre, while overexposed and ripe for ridicule, still has its fans. And clearly, writer-director Max Tzannes is one of them.
The Patterson Project—the fictional horror film within this very real comedy—is the passion project of Chase (played with chaotic optimism by Brennan Keel Cook). He’s a first-time director who dreams of following in the footsteps of horror success stories like Radio Silence, the real-life filmmakers behind two recent Scream films and the gory vampire flick Abigail. Their trajectory—from indie darlings to studio bigwigs—is exactly what Chase wants for himself.
Too bad his plan is held together by duct tape, unpaid interns, and sheer delusion.
Chase’s movie is a classic found footage concept: a ragtag group heads into the woods to hunt for Bigfoot and finds way more than they bargained for. It’s been done. And redone. But Chase is convinced he’ll be the one to “elevate the genre.” Spoiler: he won’t. At least, not in the way he thinks.
When the Real Horror is the Filmmaking Process
Forget haunted forests and mythical beasts—the real nightmare here is trying to make a movie on a shoestring budget with a cast of oddballs, an unreliable crew, and funding that hinges on a senile rich woman’s love for Alan Rickman.
Yes, seriously.
See, Chase’s production is a mess from the jump. Casting is a disaster. They almost book “Leonardo DiCaprio’s former fling” but end up with someone named “Danielle Radcliffe” (not a typo, just a legally distinct almost-star). Funding comes from a furniture salesman with mob vibes, and to secure more cash, they trick an elderly woman into believing that the late Alan Rickman will be starring in the film.
If that sounds like something out of a fever dream, you’re only scratching the surface.
The Bigfoot suit? It looks like it was made out of a stress ball. The catering? Rotten, quite literally. The cabin they’ve rented for the shoot? Definitely haunted. And don’t even get started on hunting season, which turns the shoot into a cross between The Revenant and The Hunger Games.
Meta on Meta: A Film Within a Film…Within a Documentary
Here’s where the movie starts pulling triple duty.
You’ve got the fake horror film (The Patterson Project). You’ve got the “behind-the-scenes” chaos of trying to make it. And THEN you’ve got a French documentary crew filming the whole debacle, offering another layer of perspective on the production slowly (and then rapidly) falling apart.
So yes, it’s a mockumentary. But it’s also a commentary on both low-budget filmmaking and the kind of desperation that drives people to pursue dreams in a system designed to crush them.
Max Tzannes, who directed and co-wrote the movie, has a real handle on how to shift tones without losing the plot. One minute you’re laughing at a makeup artist crying over Bigfoot’s… uh, anatomy. The next, you’re actually kind of freaked out by a shadowy figure lurking just outside the cabin. It’s a tricky balance, but one this film mostly nails.
Jokes, Jump Scares, and Just Enough Heart
Let’s be clear—this isn’t a movie that’s trying to reinvent horror. It’s trying to have fun with it.
That’s part of the charm. Yes, some jokes don’t land. Yes, the first 20 minutes are a bit slow. But once the production gets underway, it’s like a dam breaks and the madness floods in. A camera operator may or may not be possessed. A boom mic operator gets shot. A love triangle threatens to upend the already shaky set. And through it all, Chase maintains this absurd, almost childlike optimism that everything will be fine.
It won’t.
What Found Footage does especially well is poke fun at the real struggles of indie filmmaking. Everyone’s juggling multiple roles, corners are being cut left and right, and creative visions are constantly clashing with logistical nightmares. Sound familiar to any struggling artists out there?
But the film also has a surprising amount of emotional truth beneath all the absurdity. There’s a scene where Erika Vetter’s Natalie (the assistant director and Chase’s girlfriend) finally snaps after being ignored, undervalued, and micromanaged one too many times. Her slow disillusionment hits hard, especially when she starts bonding with the producer Mitchell (played with deadpan excellence by Chen Teng), who seems to be the only adult on set.
No Stars? No Problem.
You won’t find any A-listers here, but that actually works in the film’s favor. The cast feels authentic, like people you might actually run into on a low-budget set somewhere in Oregon. Brennan Keel Cook walks the fine line between lovable idiot and delusional filmmaker with impressive ease. He’s got big “Napoleon Dynamite grew up and got a film degree” energy.
But it’s Erika Vetter who steals the show. As Natalie, she brings a grounded realism to a movie filled with weirdos. Her arc—from loyal partner to fed-up professional—is quietly powerful and gives the film a bit of emotional heft.
The rest of the ensemble leans into the chaos with gusto. There’s the makeup artist who’s terrified of Bigfoot. The sound guy who may be stalking someone. The method actor who refuses to break character even when things go off the rails. It’s a glorious mess of personalities.
Final Verdict: A Hot Mess You’ll Want to Watch Burn
Found Footage: The Making of the Patterson Project isn’t perfect. It’s a little long in places. Some of the scares are more cheesy than chilling. And not every gag hits the mark. But those flaws almost feel intentional—like they’re part of the film’s DNA.
This is a movie that revels in its own ridiculousness while quietly delivering a message about how hard it is to bring a creative vision to life, especially when everything (and everyone) is working against you.
More than anything, it’s fun. And in a genre that sometimes takes itself way too seriously, fun is a welcome breath of fresh air.
So whether you’re a horror geek, a found footage veteran, or just someone who enjoys a good behind-the-scenes meltdown, The Patterson Project is worth checking out. You’ll laugh, you might scream (mostly from secondhand embarrassment), and you’ll absolutely walk away with a newfound respect for anyone brave enough to make a movie on a budget smaller than your monthly coffee bill.
TL;DR:
Mockumentary meets found footage in a chaotic, clever, and occasionally creepy love letter to low-budget horror filmmaking. It’s The Blair Witch Project if the witch were a producer with no money and too many notes.
