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This story contains spoilers about ‘Ready or Not’ and ‘The Menu.’

When Amazon founder Jeff Bezos and fiancée Lauren Sánchez held their lavish three-day wedding celebration in Venice recently, it wasn’t just a party — it was a , reportedly costing between US$47 million and US$56 million.

Critics highlighted on the fragile, flood-prone city, while to condemn the wedding as a tone-deaf symbol of oligarchical wealth at a time when many can’t afford to pay rent, let alone rent an island.

The excessive show of opulence felt like the opening of a horror film, and lately, that’s exactly what horror has been giving us. In films like and , the rich aren’t simply out of touch; they’re portrayed as predators, criminals or even monsters.

These channel widespread anxieties about the current socioeconomic climate and increasing disillusionment with capitalist systems.

In a world where the wealthy and powerful , these films expose upper-class immorality and entitlement, and offer revenge fantasies where those normally crushed by the system fight back or burn it all down.

Horror takes aim at the wealthy

Originally a quote from social theorist Jean-Jacques Rousseau during the French Revolution, in public protests and on social media in response to .

In cinema, eat-the-rich films often use grotesque hyperbole or satire to reveal and critique capitalist systems and the behaviours of the wealthy elite.

Film scholar Robin Wood — that is, capitalist — ideology, typically embodied by the figure of the monster.

He cites , a classic example of anti-capitalist sentiment in horror that depicts Leatherface (Gunnar Hansen) and his working-class family as monstrous victims of the . Rather than accept repression, they return as cannibalistic monsters, .

But in eat-the-rich horror, it is the wealthy themselves who become the monsters. The locus of repression becomes their privilege, which is often built on , and .

These films render these abstract systems tangible by making the elite’s monstrosity visible, literal and grotesque.

Revenge horror for the 99 per cent

Recent horror films are increasingly using genre conventions to critique wealth, privilege and the systems that sustain them.

turns the rich into bloodthirsty monsters who maintain their fortune through satanic rituals and human sacrifice. Grace (Samara Weaving) marries into the Le Domas family, board game magnates who initiate new family members with a deadly game of hide-and-seek. She must survive until dawn while her new in-laws hunt her down to fulfil a demonic pact.

The film critiques the idea of inherited wealth as something earned or honourable, combining humour and horror to reflect anxieties about class entrenchment and the moral decay of the elite.

The Le Domases are monstrous not only for their violence, but for how casually they justify it. When , they react with self-pity, indifferent to who must be sacrificed to maintain their wealth.

In , the rich are portrayed as monstrous not through physical violence, but through their moral failings — like financial crimes and infidelity — and their hollow consumption of culture.

Celebrity chef Julian Slowik (Ralph Fiennes) lures wealthy foodies to his exclusive island restaurant, using food as a weaponized form of art to expose guests’ hypocrisy and misdeeds. In one scene, guests are served tortillas laser-printed with incriminating images, such as banking records and evidence of fraudulent activity.

The film criticizes consumption in an industry where food is no longer a source of enjoyment or sustenance, but a status symbol for the elite to display their wealth and taste.

Why these films are striking a nerve now

It’s no surprise that audiences are turning to horror to make sense of systems that feel increasingly bleak and inescapable. In Canada, , , while .

A university degree, once considered a reliable path to stability, . Many Canadians now rely on as supplementary income.

Meanwhile, and obscene displays of wealth — like a multi-million-dollar wedding — can feel disconnected, even offensive, to people experiencing financial precarity.

Eat-the-rich films tap into this collective sense of injustice, transforming economic and social anxieties into a cathartic spectacle where ultra-wealthy villains are held accountable for their actions.

At the end of Ready or Not, and their mansion burns down. In The Menu, the guests are . In both films, fire serves as a symbolic cleansing of the wealthy, their power and the systems that protect them.

More than that, these films provide someone to root for: working-class protagonists who are targeted by the elite but ultimately survive. Former foster child Grace fights her way through a pack of murderous millionaires, while escort Margot/Erin (Anya Taylor-Joy) is spared when she rejects the pretentiousness of fine dining and orders a humble cheeseburger instead.

In this way, horror becomes a form of narrative resistance, illustrating class rage through characters who refuse to be consumed by the systems trying to oppress them. While inequality and exploitation persist in reality, eat-the-rich films offer escape, and even justice, on screen.

, PhD Candidate in Screen Cultures and Curatorial Studies,

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