After a widely praised run across the international festival circuit, *Influencer* found its home on Shudder in 2023, immediately earning a reputation as one of the platform’s most stylish and provocative horror titles. Now, its highly anticipated sequel, *Influencers*, makes its debut on the very same streaming service, expanding the universe—and the chaos—its predecessor so disturbingly set in motion. This new installment continues the unnerving saga of CW, the cunning and sadistic social media mastermind portrayed with icy magnetism by Cassandra Naud. While the film resists the easy path of a traditional origin story, it dilates the scope of CW’s depravity, exploring her manipulative schemes and emotional vacuity with both depth and audacity. Every frame promises that the sequel will match, if not surpass, the unpredictable energy of *Influencer*, with sufficient bloodletting and grisly ingenuity to firmly cement CW’s status as a bona fide slasher figure for the digital age.
Viewers would be wise to revisit—or watch for the first time—*Influencer* before diving into its sequel, as the psychological continuity and narrative complexity reach their full impact only when experienced as a two-part descent into hell. The original’s lean ninety-minute runtime flies by, setting the tone for what comes next, while *Influencers*, with its slightly elongated duration and broader international canvas, uses the extra space to build atmosphere and flesh out its diverse ensemble. True to Kurtis David Harder’s distinctive pacing, both films delay their title sequences until nearly the half-hour mark, allowing audiences to sit uneasily with CW’s calculated acts of cruelty before the story properly introduces itself.
The sequel wastes no time in confronting the audience with scenes designed to jolt the senses. The opening moments present a woman spiraling into a state of sheer panic as her phone erupts in a relentless storm of notifications. Moments later, in a collapse of reason and terror, she turns a knife upon herself. As her lifeblood seeps away, the phone begins to ring—an incoming call from one “Catherine Weaver.” The narrative abruptly shifts to France, where CW—seemingly reborn under the name Catherine—is living an idyllic life, radiant and serene, sharing laughter and affection with her partner Diane, portrayed by Lisa Delamar. It is a picturesque deception, one that any fan of the first film will immediately recognize as temporary.
Harder, who directed both installments and wrote this one solo after co-authoring the original with Tesh Guttikonda, constructs these disorienting juxtapositions with surgical precision. He is acutely aware of his audience’s memory of *Influencer*’s chilling climax—when CW was last seen stranded on a remote Thai island, smirking with bemusement as Madison, played by Emily Tennant, escaped her clutches in a stolen boat. The transformation from that grim, solitary fate to CW’s seemingly perfect romantic bliss feels, on the surface, impossible. Yet this implausibility is precisely Harder’s trick. His world thrives on the tension between illusion and exposure, where authenticity is an illusion and every glossy image conceals rot beneath its surface.
It is no secret that CW’s calm veneer eventually fractures. Though her tenderness toward Diane appears genuine, her darker compulsions inevitably resurface. Soon enough, a new circle of unsuspecting people wanders into her digital web—each one a portrait of twenty-first century vanity. These are the kinds of characters Harder loves to skewer: influencers and content creators so consumed by the metrics of self-promotion and validation that they fail to perceive the peril encircling them. Among their ranks are a smug British traveler portrayed by Georgina Campbell (of *Barbarian* fame), a volatile livestreamer from the self-styled “manosphere” played by Jonathan Whitesell, his loyal friend Cameron (Dylan Playfair of *Letterkenny*), and Cameron’s girlfriend Ariana (Veronica Long). The film carefully invites us to question our perceptions—are these people reprehensible narcissists who earn their grim fates, or merely ordinary humans ensnared in CW’s sociopathic games? Harder ensures the answer remains discomfortingly ambiguous.
Much has been made of CW’s resemblance to literary antiheroes such as Patricia Highsmith’s Tom Ripley, and the comparison is apt. Every scene of *Influencers* radiates that same cool, calculating amorality, reimagined for an era defined by digital deception and algorithmic manipulation. CW’s genius lies not only in her ruthlessness but in her profound technical prowess: she slips in and out of lives, systems, and identities with uncanny fluidity. She can infiltrate phones and computers at will, concoct deepfakes so perfect they might as well breathe, and reinvent herself instantaneously through an array of falsified passports. She is both ghost and god in the digital realm, a woman who exists everywhere and nowhere at once.
And yet, one human imperfection remains unaltered—the birthmark that defines her face. Far from diminishing her, this visible marker makes CW unforgettable. Naud’s performance transforms it into an emblem of dark charisma, raising provocative questions that the films pointedly refuse to answer. Does CW’s hatred of influencers stem from a deeper resentment toward society’s obsession with manufactured beauty? Her indifference to hiding the mark speaks volumes: it is both a defiance and a signature, the single feature that forever disrupts her fantasies of anonymity. No matter how expertly she erases her digital footprints or dons new identities, this inescapable trace of individuality betrays her every time.
Meanwhile, *Influencers* brings Madison—the haunted survivor of the first film—back into the fold for compelling narrative reasons. Although she escaped with her life, her reputation did not survive unscathed. Cleared legally of CW’s murders but still socially condemned, Madison finds herself hounded by public doubt and digital rumor. CW’s ruthless manipulation of her online persona left scars far deeper than physical danger. Estranged from normal life, stalked by amateur sleuths and obsessed fans, Madison’s quest for closure transforms into a mission for retribution. Her pursuit begins with a simple search—a desperate Google query for “dead influencer”—but quickly unspools into a path littered with revelations and vengeance.
At its core, *Influencers* functions as both an evolution of its predecessor and a carefully constructed commentary on the seductive toxicity of social media. The film’s shimmering backdrops—luxurious villas, European skylines, pristine beaches—are captured with a postcard perfection that mirrors the online facades its characters curate. Yet behind every luminous frame lurks menace, a reminder that even the most beautiful image can conceal violence waiting to intrude. Under Harder’s assured direction, the sequel transforms into a parable about the perilous interplay between technology, identity, and ego.
*Influencers* premieres on Shudder on December 12, while *Influencer* remains available for streaming there now—a perfect opportunity to witness both sides of CW’s chilling digital empire before surrendering once again to her wickedly captivating world.
Sourse: https://gizmodo.com/your-favorite-social-media-psycho-is-back-in-killer-sequel-influencers-2000690160
