The Creep Tapes: How to Lose Friends and Murder People

Patrick Brice and Mark Duplass’s six-episode series The Creep Tapes has arrived to expand on the Creep franchise. You want to be scared. Hell, you signed up for this. But mostly, you’re just wondering if this is all part of the bit or if the dude genuinely believes his bad vampire impersonation deserves an Oscar.

Much like its predecessors, the Creep films (Creep and Creep 2), this series tries to unnerve you with its low-budget charm and uncomfortable social tension. Unlike its predecessors, it doesn’t quite stick the landing, stumbling somewhere between “brilliant horror-comedy” and “found-footage filler.”

For the uninitiated, The Creep Tapes expands on the world of the Creep films, where Duplass plays Josef, a.k.a. Peachfuzz, a serial killer who lures victims under the guise of needing videographers for bizarre, sometimes laughably mundane tasks. The series dives into his collection of tapes, each episode showcasing a different victim and their inevitable demise. The setup is solid—a lo-fi anthology that promises a peek into the twisted mind of Josef.

And Mark Duplass? He’s having the time of his life. He’s a one-man symphony of awkwardness and menace, ping-ponging between goofy charm and outright horror. Whether he’s gyrating in a wolf mask or delivering some painfully stilted Shakespearean monologue, you can’t take your eyes off him. Even when you want to.

But while Duplass gives it his all, the series’ format struggles to keep pace. Each episode follows a familiar formula: victim shows up, Josef acts weird, victim ignores every glaring red flag, Josef snaps, cue murder. Rinse. Repeat. Sure, there are moments of inspired weirdness, but six episodes of “Oh no, he’s creepy again” can wear thin fast. In fact, for this very reason, avoid the binge. Today’s watching habits simply do not do this series any favors.

Patrick Brice, who directs every episode, clearly knows his way around the found-footage aesthetic. The grainy, handheld camerawork feels intimate, almost invasive, pulling you into Josef’s warped world. But while the films used this style to amplify tension, here it often feels like a gimmick stretched too thin. The episodes lack the claustrophobic dread of the movies, relying instead on cheap jump scares and drawn-out awkward silences.

The anthology format—with each episode standing alone—should have been a playground for creativity. Instead, it often feels like a greatest-hits reel, recycling ideas from the films without adding much new. One episode, for instance, involves a birdwatcher whose serene hobby becomes a nightmare. Another features a wannabe documentarian taking on the Catholic Church. Both start strong but fizzle out, offering more questions than satisfying answers.

One thing The Creep Tapes gets right is its dark humor. Josef’s deadpan delivery and absurd antics are often laugh-out-loud funny, even when they shouldn’t be. At one point, he earnestly asks a victim to help him reenact a scene from Misery. In another, he rants about the “spiritual significance” of his wolf mask, only to undercut it with a fart joke. It’s bizarre, it’s dumb, and it works… until it doesn’t.

The writing walks a fine line between unsettling and silly, and while it mostly lands on the right side, there are moments where it veers too far into parody. Josef’s monologues, for example, are often more exhausting than entertaining, dragging on long after the point has been made. And while the humor keeps things from getting too bleak, it also undercuts the horror, making it hard to take Josef seriously as a threat.

Mark Duplass is the heart, soul, and twisted grin of The Creep Tapes. His performance reveals his expertise in controlled chaos, balancing charm, menace, and outright absurdity. Watching him flip from endearing to terrifying in a heartbeat is a rollercoaster ride you can’t look away from, even when you want to puke. The supporting cast, on the other hand, is hit-or-miss. Most of Josef’s victims are forgettable, serving more as props than actual characters. There are exceptions—Krisha Fairchild’s turn as Josef’s mother in the finale adds some much-needed depth to his character—but for the most part, they’re just there to scream and die.

While the found-footage format is a hallmark of the franchise, it feels more like a crutch here. The grainy, handheld style worked wonders in the films, creating an atmosphere of voyeuristic dread. But in the series, it often feels lazy, with little effort to innovate or surprise. The camera angles are predictable, the “hidden camera” moments lack tension, and the jump scares are more irritating than frightening.

That said, there is quality horror here worthy of the films. The episodes are framed as literal VHS tapes, complete with static-filled intros and ominous labels. It’s a nice touch, adding a layer of grim authenticity to the proceedings. And when the series leans into its lo-fi aesthetic—like a scene shot entirely in night vision—it can be genuinely unsettling.

Despite its flaws, The Creep Tapes has its moments. The dark humor is sharp and unrelenting, offering a twisted commentary on our obsession with true crime and found footage. Josef’s antics are equal parts hilarious and horrifying, and Duplass’s performance is worth the price of admission alone.

The series also hints at a deeper mythology, particularly in the finale, which explores Josef’s backstory and his relationship with his wolf mask. It’s not enough to redeem the weaker episodes, but it’s a tantalizing glimpse of what the series could be if it leaned harder into its lore. A single episode could have been reserved to effectively “rehash” the films. The final two episodes are likely the strongest given their expansion on the mythos. The remaining three are unfortunately disposable.

To this end, the biggest problem with The Creep Tapes is its repetitiveness. Each episode follows the same basic structure, with little variation or innovation. By the third or fourth installment, you know exactly what to expect, and the tension evaporates. The anthology format should have been an opportunity to experiment, but instead, it’s a showcase of diminishing returns. The series also struggles to balance its humor and horror. While the films managed to be both funny and terrifying, the series leans too heavily on the former, diluting the impact of the latter. Josef’s antics are amusing, but they’re rarely scary, and the show’s attempts at genuine horror often fall flat.

The Creep Tapes is a flawed but interesting addition to the Creep franchise. It’s not as groundbreaking as the flicks, and it often feels like it’s spinning its wheels, but it’s still a wild ride for fans of found footage and dark comedy. Mark Duplass’s performance is a tour de force, and the series’ twisted sense of humor is its saving grace.

If you’re a die-hard Creep fan, you’ll find plenty to enjoy here. But if you’re new to the franchise or expecting something fresh and innovative, you might be better off revisiting the films instead. Either way, one thing is clear: Peachfuzz isn’t done with us yet. And honestly? I’m kind of okay with that.