"She logged in to watch strangers — and found one watching her."
In The Den, the digital age becomes a hunting ground for something far more sinister than pop-up ads or stolen passwords. Elizabeth Benton, a graduate student studying the habits of webcam chat users, sets out to document how people interact on a random video chat site known simply as “The Den.” Her initial recordings are filled with the usual mix of awkward small talk, crude humor, and the occasional unsettling encounter — until one night, she witnesses something she cannot explain. A young woman appears on her screen, terrified, and is brutally murdered in what seems to be a live feed.
At first, Elizabeth assumes it’s a staged performance or a dark prank. But as she digs deeper, her world begins to collapse. Friends start disappearing, her personal accounts are hacked, and she realizes the faceless network she’s been studying has turned its gaze on her. The line between observer and target vanishes, and every click becomes a step closer to danger. Her laptop — once a tool for research — transforms into a portal for someone to invade her life, her privacy, and her safety.
Director Zachary Donohue builds his story through a chillingly immersive “screenlife” format, forcing the audience to experience the events entirely through Elizabeth’s point of view — web browser tabs, video calls, chat messages, and recorded clips. There’s no escape to the safety of a wide cinematic shot; we are trapped inside her desktop, watching horror bleed into the mundane. Every notification ping becomes a jolt, every frozen video frame a potential glimpse of violence.
As Elizabeth’s paranoia spirals, the film reveals the horrifying scope of the conspiracy — a shadowy network trafficking in fear and murder for an audience willing to pay for the spectacle. The faceless killers know where she lives, what she’s doing, and who she loves, and they use that knowledge with surgical precision. By the time the final moments arrive, The Den delivers not just a grim warning about online anonymity, but a gut-punch reminder that in the wrong hands, curiosity is a death sentence.
