WARNING: The following contains spoilers for the Creep franchise.

Nothing in the world of film and TV excites horror academics like the meta-slasher. This curious subgenre emerged in the ’90s as a response to the slasher boom of the previous decade and involves skewering standard tropes with characters and scripts well aware of the films that have come before. Wes Craven’s 1996 masterpiece Scream opens with the killer quizzing his victim about classic slasher franchises and Drew Goddard’s The Cabin in the Woods concludes with a Director entering the scene to explain the archetypes each doomed character fulfills. Meta-slashers play with our expectations by blatantly giving characters the tools to survive then daring them to follow through with the knowledge they’ve accrued. They are ingenious twists on a beloved cinematic formula and a way to build upon the lore we’ve come to expect. 

Nearly thirty years after the subgenre’s peak, meta-slashers have become the norm. We’re so used to characters who know “the rules” that oblivious victims and survivors now feel fresh and revolutionary. But as we continue to play with the limits of plotting and characterization, a new type of meta-slasher has emerged. Patrick Brice’s Creep franchise follows a strangely charming serial killer who assaults his victims with uncomfortable camaraderie before dispatching them with weapons hiding in plain sight. Frequently categorized as found footage, each addition to this ingenious series further cements its slasher pedigree. The Creep (Mark Duplass) murders victims one by one while donning an updated mask of charm and manipulation. Like a sly Randy Meeks (Jaime Kennedy, Scream), he telegraphs the rules of this deadly game—sometimes outright admitting his crimes—then watches his victims fall into a trap of disbelief. You see, the Creep has evolved with the genre as well and now uses the meta-slasher format to destabilize his prey.

Creep begins with a bit of staged miscommunication. A videographer named Aaron (Brice) has arrived for a full day of filming only to find that the stranger who placed the ad is nowhere to be found. While Aaron waits in his car, Josef (Duplass) startles him by screaming and banging on the driver’s side window. After a day filled with awkward interactions, Aaron learns that Josef has lied to him about everything. He is not dying of cancer or filming a video for his unborn son. Josef is an unstable man who has lured him to the woods with the pitiable hope of gaining a friend. The Creep follows this unsettling day by stalking Aaron at his home, leaving a series of unnerving gifts and video messages. Despite this terror, Josef is still able to convince Aaron to meet him in person once again by promising a heartfelt apology and asking for help. But while Aaron waits for him to arrive, Josef sneaks up behind him and buries an ax in his head. We later learn that Josef has done this many times before and watch the mysterious murderer deposit Aaron’s homemade DVD on a shelf filled with videos named for his many other victims. 

Creep 2 doubles down on this exciting premise as the Creep—now calling himself Aaron—goes through a midlife crisis. He hires Sara (Desiree Akhavan) to film a documentary in which he will reveal himself to be a serial killer and give her full access into the mind of a murderer. Minutes after their introduction, Aaron lays all of his cards on the table, telling her exactly who he is and what he’s done. Determined to put on a show of strength, Sara does not flinch. In private, she admits her disbelief, but wants to keep egging him on for an episode of her exploitative YouTube show. As the day unfolds, Aaron’s slow escalation reaches its peak and Sara finds herself fighting for her life like all the others. 

Seven years later, Brice and Duplass have revived this quirky franchise with The Creep Tapes, a series following the charismatic villain as he targets a new batch of videographers using custom bait designed to lure them in. With each new installment, we see slasher patterns emerge in a fascinating remix of classic tropes. The Creep uses our collective awareness of true crime and horror against his many victims, hiding behind a mask of self-deprecating honesty. Heavy helpings of metacommentary add to the exploration of our collective desire for comforting delusion and an overwhelming need to see ourselves as the hero.

Each Creep chapter consists of raw footage from a handheld camera carried by one of the story’s main characters. While technically considered found footage, this ever-shifting POV subverts an element of the classic slasher. Films like Halloween and Friday the 13th introduce us to victims through the killer’s eyes, shifting our perspective to the unseen villain. The Creep series reverses this technique by privileging the victim’s perspective. We’re introduced to the villain as the subject of each story and watch as he systematically reclaims the camera. Rather than a monster hiding from view, the Creep is a sympathetic performer objectified by the camera’s lens. However, this perspective offers only the illusion of protection. The Creep has decentered his own POV in a clever sleight of hand to distract from the manipulation unfolding in plain sight. 

Carol J. Clover’s academic text Men, Women, and Chain Saws is perhaps best known for codifying the slasher formula and introducing the concept of the final girl. The sole survivor of a slasher film, she (sometimes he) squares off against a killer in the final act, usually using her attacker’s own weapon. Clover assigns gender to this phenomenon, but a more updated version of the theory involves finding empowerment by overcoming a deadly attack. The Creep plays with this trope, directly using the illusion of power to further manipulate his victims. In Creep 2, Aaron stuns Sara by informing her that she will be murdering him before the night is over. Still believing him to be either lying or mentally disturbed, she reluctantly agrees to chop off his head while the camera rolls. In a stunning reversal, he hands her his trademark ax then lays face down on the coffee table waiting for her to strike the killing blow. Sara naturally balks and he feigns disappointment while devising another way to end his life by her hand. 

A similar scene occurs in the opening chapter of The Creep Tapes in which Jeff (Duplass) encourages his victim to tie him to the bed in a Misery-inspired scene for his acting reel. Were both victims to know what he has planned for the night, they would surely take this opportunity to defend themselves or escape, but the Creep has caused them to believe that because they currently hold the weapon, they are not in any real danger. 

It’s a fascinating subversion of the “drop the knife” trope, reminding us that power only feels meaningful once it’s been earned. In traditional slashers, the final girl seizes an opportunity to pick up a weapon and fight for herself, but the Creep has orchestrated a faux version of this empowerment. He abdicates power and orchestrates his own destruction, knowing they will be unable to act. Not only do his victims believe they are in control, they have conflated the virtue of their responsible choice with the true empowerment gained by overcoming a threat.

Though variations have emerged through the years, most slasher killers are known for an iconic mask or disfiguring makeup, allowing them to operate with anonymity and become a dehumanized force of nature. Brice flips this trope on its head with the Creep’s unsettling alter ego, a hairy wolf mask known as Peach Fuzz. We first encounter this villainous persona on a high shelf in a bedroom closet. Josef explains its childish origins before donning Peach Fuzz for a nursery rhyme inspired song. This story serves to fully defang the terrifying creature while elevating Josef’s own humanity. We now believe that Peach Fuzz is the one we should fear. Anytime we see the Creep without his mask, we assume we are in the presence of a well-intentioned man. 

In fact, the Creep wears many invisible masks including one of overwhelming awkwardness. After an initial moment of destabilization, he greets his victims—and the audience—with a broad smile and a cheery demeanor, often insisting on a heartfelt hug. We’re thrown off by this show of earnest vulnerability and believe that by granting him our own goodwill, we have power in the uncomfortable relationship. After all, we’re making the virtuous choice to overlook his cringey behavior. The Creep Tapes presents its villain as both a cheesy actor and an injured skydiver while the first two films see him pretend to be both a struggling creator and a dying father-to-be. In every case, the Creep assaults his victims’ need to be seen as a good person and dares them to reject his embarrassing displays of vulnerability. 

This awkwardness is indeed disarming, but the Creep’s most devious mask is one of brutal honesty. Explaining this trick to Sara, he says, “While I do play around with facts, I never lie.” In each interaction, he tells his victims he is not to be trusted and ultimately plans to cause them harm. The ax he eventually buries in Aaron’s head has been left on the stoop just feet away from their first encounter. While filming in the woods, he casually asks, “When you saw that ax back at the house, was there a small part of you that thought I might kill you with it?” essentially giving away his master plan. In The Creep Tapes, he mentions baiting birds, subtly nodding to the trap he has set. Noting a reference to Interview with the Vampire in his online ad, the Creep tells Sara, “I feel like I’m pretty fair with my victims. I want them to know that I’m dangerous.” He even shows her a video of himself murdering Aaron, removing all doubt that he is truly a killer. But time after time, his victims choose not to believe the damning evidence he hands to them and the “rules” he explains in so many words. Reflecting on his victims’ consistent delusion, he observes, “It’s almost like they want to die.” 

It’s a fair point, but the more likely explanation is that they believe they can’t die. Like a horror fan encountering a murderer in real life, they confuse knowledge of the monster’s tactics with protection, failing to see that the Creep has evolved as well. Not only has he clocked their awareness, he knows they will rest in this illusion of safety. Sara can’t understand why the Creep would tell her his sinister plans, failing to see that he is counting on her disbelief to hide in plain sight. He knows that she will not accept any knowledge she has not had to earn. Like Sara, we’ve been conditioned to believe that all deceit must be hidden and our job as the hero is to uncover the truth. We don’t know how to respond to villainy laid bare and convince ourselves there must be more to the story. 

Shortly after Randy Meeks explains the rules of slasher survival to a roomful of potential victims, he relaxes while watching Halloween. The seasoned horror fan begs Laurie (Jaime Lee Curtis) to turn around and see the killer standing just behind her while another murderer creeps into the room. He’s so busy enjoying the power of his own slasher knowledge that he fails to see his impending victimization. Josef poses a similar question to Aaron while reviewing the footage of his death. “Why didn’t you look behind you? And then I realized why you didn’t turn around. It’s because you’re the greatest person who’s ever lived. No matter what I did to you, you believed I was good and I would do you no harm.” Aaron cannot accept that he has been deceived because that would pull his entire worldview into turmoil. Perhaps he is not the story’s final survivor and decades of knowledge has proved to be worthless. Creep dares us to question whether we would fall for similar tricks. Would we listen to our instincts and believe what we see or cocoon ourselves in the protection of outdated rules while walking headlong into the lair of the wolf? 

The first two episodes of “The Creep Tapes” are now streaming on Shudder.