Best of the Worst: The Feast Trilogy

It won’t satisfy those looking for high art, but the “Feast” trilogy offers a smorgasbord of B-movie schlock that’s hard to resist.

Putting all the bro-worthy ammo in the half-naked grindhouse barrel, The Feast trilogy shoots from the hip and nails (sometimes literally) blondes, lesbian bikers, single moms, folks with disabilities, wannabe tough guys, seniors, used car salesmen, luchadors, and cats alike.

(Heck, this series even takes out a baby.)

I spent so much of 2024 backstroking through all of the beautiful new horror content that as I stepped into 2025, I decided I needed to create space for a few rewatches. I saw the Feast films when they were released and remembered liking them. So, it felt like time to see how they hold up.

The short answer to this quest’s purpose?

The first and third might warrant your time, depending on how the rest of this piece lands for you.

And, unfortunately, you’re going to have to slog through the second to get the reward of the third.

These are the kind of films I recommend cautiously, depending on your stomach for: a.) goopy, gloppy, sloppy scenes (Got myxophobia or fear of slime or mucus? Dislike films that take “bloodbath” to the next level? Maggots a no-go? Then these films are NOT for you; and b.) some dialogue choices that are painfully cringe in 2025 (You’ve been warned, and I fully appreciate this alone might be a turn-off).

However, they are worth a watch if you enjoy irreverent (tasteless at times) horror that straddles comedy and ensemble situations that exist simply to answer the question, “Who’s next, and how will they go?”—especially since they’re all free on Tubi or Plex.

Fun fact before we dive into the belly of this beast: Feast was the selected script to be realized during the third season of Project Greenlight, the Matt Damon and Ben Affleck-produced movie-making reality series on HBO. (It tickled me that a project like Feast would get this kind of coverage.)

Building on my point above, approach these movies with the same caution you should have brought to your inaugural Game of Thrones watch: Don’t get too attached to anyone.

Writers Marcus Dunstan (yup, if you didn’t know, this is where he started) and Patrick Melton wrote this trio—Feast (2005), Feast II: Sloppy Seconds (2008), and Feast III: The Happy Finish (2009)—with wang-guided, reckless abandon.

The three films are sequential; each picks up exactly where the last left off.

The first film opens fast and furious, introducing the grindhouse vibe and a host of colorful characters. Instead of names, everyone gets titles like Hot Wheels (young guy in a wheelchair, to give you an idea of the approach here), Tuffy, Grandma, Honey Pie, Harley Mom, etc. Each gets a lower-third bio that reads like an abridged version of a Deadpool’s Guide to Super Villains Card.

The casting offered smiles as many familiar faces contributed to this chaos—Judah Friedlander (Beer Guy), Balthazar Getty (Bozo), Henry Rollins (Coach), Jason Mewes—Jay of Jay and Silent Bob (Edgy Cat), and Clu Gulager (Bartender).

As soon as the Hero (played by Eric Dane for any Dr. McSteamy fans) arrives, the kills start immediately and aggressively.

“You. Get a phone. Call the cops. The National Guard. Townies. Anybody who kicks ass and get ‘em out here.”

From there, it’s just a total gong show free-for-all with the creatures until the credits roll at the end of the third, with a Mexican folk singer lyrically summarizing the ridiculousness that transpired.

The creatures warrant their own sidebar.

Personally, I love their design, and we get to see a few variations as they show newborns, juveniles, and adults. These monsters are towering slabs of muscle, and beyond their dominating size, what makes them terrifying is their teeth. They have layers of thin, razor-sharp teeth—almost like longer, skinnier shark teeth—perfect for tearing (which they do a LOT of).

In the first film, they wear the skulls and skins of their prey, which are eventually taken off to reveal their beastly stature and structure. The only thing I struggled with was the inconsistent choices around how they could be killed. Guns were only occasionally effective. However, close-range, blunt force trauma (think skull-bashing)? Done-zo.

The most amusing part of their design, though, is how Dunstan and Melton channeled all of their raging teenage testosterone into the males.

The audience is graced—and in the third, grazed (literally, a creature teabags the camera)—with full frontal shots on the regular. One gets “neutered” and of course, close-ups were deemed necessary. We see monster sex on a few occasions. In the second, one decides to mount an unlucky stray cat. Even the juvenile males get in on the action when one of the smaller ones mounts the deer head that is mounted over the bar in the first. I’m not too proud to admit that, aside from the cat, most of these moments did make me giggle.

(You know what? I feel like that previous paragraph alone should sell you on watching these. I am laughing while typing.)

Lastly, I am CONVINCED that one or more of the A Quiet Place (2018) writers—Scott Beck, John Krasinski, or Bryan Woods—was inspired by this trilogy. In the second movie, we hear, “They don’t hunt what they can’t hear.” Then, in the third, we are introduced to the Prophet, who scares off the creatures with his hearing aid. Coincidence? Methinks not.

Oh, and each film has a post-credit sequence, so resist the urge to shut it off immediately (trust me, you’re going to want to at the end of the second).

As I reflect and stew in these festering Feast fluids, I think if you put Deadpool, Tremors, Kevin Smith, and Robert Rodriguez in a blender and poured out a putrid B-movie smoothie, it would taste like the Feast trilogy.

So, suffice it to say this three-pack isn’t going to change your life or prompt any deep, metaphorical reflection… but I’ll lay money there are enough moments that will cause you to choke back both laughter and vomit.

This feels like my ‘when in Rome’ moment, and I should just embrace this quote from the second film in wrapping this article:

“If it’s dumb, I don’t wanna be smart.”