Rabid (2019)

Rabid (2019) is the kind of slick, high-voltage body horror that sinks its teeth in with style first and then refuses to let go, using the fashion world’s glossy surfaces as a perfect contrast to what’s festering underneath. Laura Vandervoort gives Rose a wounded, human center, so the film’s freakier turns land not just as shocks but as a warped, darkly funny riff on reinvention, beauty, and the price of “fixing” yourself. The Soska Sisters keep the pace energizing and the vibe pulpy and confident, delivering gooey practical nastiness and sci‑fi ideas that feel faithful to classic genre DNA while still having a modern edge. It’s not for the squeamish—this one gets bloody and intense—but if you like your horror stylish, a little mean, and unapologetically fun, it’s an easy recommendation.

Rabid (2019) clearly wants to mash up body-horror with a pointed jab at beauty culture, using a disfigurement-and-rebirth setup that’s inherently juicy for sci-fi horror. The problem is it often settles for loud, heavy-handed dialogue and surface-level satire, so the themes feel stated rather than earned, and the drama doesn’t hit with much weight. If you need a strong, layered protagonist or the kind of inventive, unsettling intelligence that would justify remaking the original, this may feel like a glossy imitation with a lot of noise and not enough bite. That said, if you’re mainly here for nasty gore, chaotic outbreak energy, and a committed lead performance, it can still scratch that midnight-movie itch.