Grind (Frightfest 2026)

I’d heard a lot of hype about GRIND from its American festival run, and as someone already a fan of Brea Grant’s directorial work, I went in curious but without fixed expectations — anthologies haven’t exactly been in their halcyon era lately. What I got was one of the most purely enjoyable experiences of this year’s FrightFest, and festival screenings for 2026 in general. The concept alone – an exaggerated horror version of modern work culture – is inspired and endlessly renewable if handled well. It’s the kind of fresh idea V/H/S once represented before grinding itself into dust.

There is a wraparound, which I’ll return to later, but the first short, MLM (directed by Grant), centres on a livestream‑based product seller (Jessika Van) and the absurd punishments dished out for not hitting targets or watching the endless library of instructional videos. It’s not the strongest of the bunch, but such is the nature of anthologies: not every segment hits equally. For someone unfamiliar with this corner of internet‑driven work culture, it’s a stretch to relate, but the satire carries it. The relentless demands of introductory videos, the absurdity of “learning how to do the job” being a job in itself, and the punishment clauses — including a husband’s penis being turned into a small bird and all food becoming glitter — are delightfully ridiculous. The bird‑penis gag is staged like a horror beat and lands hilariously. Continued failure summons the Axe‑Man, an immortal entity dressed head‑to‑toe in gaudy “cool” paraphernalia. It feels like a warm‑up, but it’s sharp and crucially establishes Dragon, the barely veiled Google/Amazon proxy at the centre of the anthology’s evil.

The second short, Delivery (also Grant), is the standout of the entire film — and it’s absolutely ferocious. It depicts the demeaning nature of gig‑economy food delivery, where each job is worth pennies and survival depends on customer generosity. The customer here, Simon, appears to be a psychic, time‑bending, omnipotent entity. The short is essentially one actor performing opposite an unseen presence, repeating the same scenario endlessly as the delivery bag becomes increasingly gloopy and grotesque, with the only person he meets being mutual delivery driver Gigi Saul Guerrero. Vinny Thomas’s performance is magnetic; he expresses exhaustion and persistence with a clarity that defines the desperation at the core of GRIND’s worldview. The threat may be cosmic, but the look on his face will be painfully familiar but anyone who hates their job, but has no choice to put up with it anyway. Delivery hits with the force of the best anthology shorts of the last decade — easily standing alongside titans like Storm Drain (V/H/S 94) and Safe Haven (V/H/S 2).

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The third short, Content Moderation (Ed Dougherty), is every bit the equal of Delivery. A former teacher (Christopher Rodriguez Marquette) interviews for a middle‑management position, only to discover that the job requires literally climbing the corporate ladder — descending up The Beyond‑style stairs from “hell” and climbing back out by moderating six million videos. These aren’t harmless YouTube clips; workers are driven to madness by an endless stream of depravity: sex, violence, and the unforgettable image of Frogman both being railed and doing the railing. The visuals are inventive, the humour pitch‑black, and the satire of megacorporate exploitation razor‑edged. It’s another excellent short, bursting with ideas and imagery. It even has a flavour of Cabin in the Woods — the kind of piece you could rewatch and spot new details every time.

The fourth segment, Union Meeting (Dougherty again), pulls together threads from the previous shorts — especially the “special gifts” introduced in Chelsea Stardust’s (who also produces) wraparound, Warehouse Wonders. Set in a coffee shop that is absolutely not Starbucks (despite the mermaid logo), the staff hold a post‑work lock‑in to discuss unionising. Characters from across the anthology converge, making this the strongest ensemble piece. From company men to communist stereotypes to James Paxton’s over‑eager worker who immediately glues his hand to the table, it’s sharply observed and very funny. Ify Nwadiwe’s “man with a code” is a highlight, and even if he is off, that character is what icons are made of. When the monster arrives — corporate can’t possibly allow unionisation, after all — the makeup is incredible and the actor’s physicality deserves praise. The violence is manic, with the creature attacking and retreating into its container. And while it doesn’t reach the heights of shorts two and three, we’re talking two 10s, a 7 and an 8 — hardly a dramatic drop‑off.

Across all four shorts, GRIND blends character work, corporate satire, existential terror, time‑bending weirdness and creature‑feature chaos into a pointed, funny anthology. It’s not particularly scary, but it isn’t trying to be; it’s thrilling, sharp and socially aware, which is exactly the register this concept thrives in. Modern work — especially the American iteration — is already a hellscape, adding classical horror beats on top would overshoot the idea and cause the idea to feel overcooked. The wraparound is the only notable weak point, but even then, it’s conceived more as connective tissue than a standalone story, so calling it a negative in the classical sense would be bad faith.

This is another blinding highlight of FrightFest — packed with detail, socio‑political digs and endlessly clever world‑building. It absolutely warrants multiple rewatches, and it’s the sort of anthology that could sustain countless future iterations: job‑application hellscapes in the AI age, the existential terror of an inbox that never reaches zero, this stuff writes itself, after all, it’s brutal out there.

ROB’S ARCHIVE – GRIND