One of the most quietly effective touches in Influencers is CW’s relationship with an A.I.-generated computer companion, programmed to remember only the good times. It’s a haunting metaphor for curated identity: memory without consequence, intimacy without accountability. In a world where personalities are endlessly rebranded, sold, and packaged, the killer’s digital ghost becomes her only confidante, an echo chamber that never judges and never leaves. This is one of the reasons the satire cuts deeper here than before, focusing on entitlement and insulation. These people inhabit infinity-pool realities, untouched by consequence, until consequence meets them.
When the violence comes, it’s lavishly staged and unapologetically nasty, culminating in a bloodbath at a Balinese retreat. One bash up in a lovely home is almost comical in its look and mechanics, which fits with the dark comedy at play. Why not have fun with a violent result? The finale is interesting and darkly funny, which keeps in line with the tone and overall themes of Harder is toying with throughout the 110-minute runtime.
“…lavishly staged and unapologetically nasty…”
As before, Naud is the focal point. CW is a monster, but she’s also the only character who seems capable of feeling anything genuine. The actor makes the character’s rage feel personal and driven by addiction to inflict upon those she deems as targets. The film hints that her resentment toward “people who poison the water” may stem from a lifetime of over-visibility. Delmar is crushing, vulnerable yet strong, bringing to mind Romy Schneider in Le Piscine, being a foil for the manipulative CW. The film’s structure hops between continents and timelines, sometimes to its own detriment.
Visually sumptuous and brilliantly filled with black humour, Influencers doesn’t pretend to be a healthy genre film. It’s cinematic satiric fun on the level of a Punch and Judy show. Plus, as a social media-era variation on the globe-trotting sociopath, it’s a sharp, entertaining escalation that understands something essential: in a culture built on attention, the scariest thing isn’t being watched, it’s being forgotten, and finding your slogan t-shirts at a second-hand store
"…cinematic satiric fun on the level of a Punch and Judy show."
