Proving that the found footage concept can still evolve, filmmakers have been experimenting with twisting the format into new themes and gimmicks (a la the more recent V/H/S films) or even creating an entire feature out of fake commercials and local TV broadcasts, exemplified in WNUF Halloween Special. To that list you can add the funny and sometimes very uneasy Buffet Infinity, a supernatural Canadian satire of local business practices and voracious capitalism taken to its most nightmarish extreme. Like other descendants of those classic commercials in the original RoboCop (which would also include offshoots like Casper Kelly), this one aims for biting satire but also uses the commercials themselves to build an elaborate story involving numerous characters and stores being devoured or obliterated by a seemingly harmless new player in town. On the other hand and more divisively, it also takes a page from Late Night with the Devil and The Last Broadcast by breaking with its format on a couple of occasions to follow characters outside of the camera space, showing more of the devastation being wrought by the titular mutating business.

In Westridge County, the airwaves are usually home to plugs for locally owned businesses around the Crossroads Shopping Complex like Ahmed's Pawn Shop, the law firm of Mosley Rosin & Associates, Babbacock Insurance, and a sandwich shop whose owner, Jenny (Bench), is very protective of her ingredients. She also becomes a primary target of ads for the new Buffet Infinity, a sprawling eatery that seems to specialize in some unholy combination of seafood and Indian cuisine but quickly grows in real estate and menu options at the expense of stores around it. A mysterious sinkhole also opens up, pets and then people start to vanish, and a weird noise permeates the air nearby. Meanwhile a creepy local religious order run by the charismatic and very weird Langdon P. Hershey takes a turn when the cult-style leader dies suddenly, though he may not be as out of the picture as things might appear.

Largely culled from stand-up and acting talent around the Edmonton area, Buffet Infinity appropriately loads a lot on your plate over 90 minutes; originally it began as a playful YouTube project but escalated into the apocalyptic farce you have now. Whether this qualifies as any sort of traditional horror movie will be up to interpretation since it throws at least three or four other genres into the mix by the end, and for those sensitive to it, the first ten minutes is an ADHD assault of rapid-fire channel flipping. Things settle down a bit after that though as the narrative emerges, though the film wisely keeps a few elements mysterious all the way to the end. The fact that it actually manages to eke out some actual character development is impressive, especially the pawnshop sequences which get more hilarious and unsettling as the destructive events unfold.

An attention-grabbing festival entry, Buffet Infinity was picked up by Yellow Veil Pictures and earned nearly simultaneous Blu-ray and streaming (via Shudder) releases in 2026. The Blu-ray looks and sounds as excellent as you'd expect for a recent title, at least given how intentionally distorted some of the visuals are with the sharpness cranked to the extreme in some shots to simulate a retro tube TV. The English audio is presented in a DTS-HD MA 5.1 option plus Dolby Digital 5.1 and stereo 2.0 with optional English SDH subtitles. An audio commentary by director Simon Glassman and producer Mike Peterson is a fun and easygoing chat about the influences of everything from Enter the Void to Mandy, the casting process, the most expensive shooting location (you'll be surprised), and much, much more. A Cade and Kit interview with Peterson and Ahmed (55m10s) features the podcasters talking about the balance of "comedy and cosmic horror," the building of the narrative, their favorite moments, the path to finding kindred spirits when you're based out of Alberta, and the faith they had in putting the film together. A 2020 "early cut" of the film (46m58s) is a lot looser and plays more like a mixtape (even opening with colorized footage from House on Haunted Hill), with a lot of alternate footage covering some of the same ground as well as a subsequently discarded psychic hotline angle and no lawyer character. Also included are a couple of unused fake commercials (1m53s, and the first one is very creepy), a reel of Mosley Rosin promos videos (8m51s), and Q&A with the director, producer, and tons of cast members at the 2025 Fantasia Film Festival (18m20s), and four storyboard-to-screen animatics (5m20s, 3m19s, 2m59s, 2m2s); the disc also comes with an insert featuring an essay by Tori Potenza.

Reviewed on October 14, 2026