When Patriotism Gets Bloody
When Founders Day dropped its trailer in 2023, horror fans immediately sat up. The image of a quiet New England town draped in campaign posters and fall leaves, hiding a masked killer beneath its red, white, and blue decor, was both eerie and exciting. Directed by Erik Bloomquist and co-written with his brother Carson, the film promised something beyond a typical slasher — a mix of civic pride and creeping dread.
There was nostalgia in the air. Fans of Scream and Urban Legend sensed that same old-school energy — the witty, small-town setting, the mystery-driven killings. But Founders Day also hinted at something deeper: a commentary on politics, hypocrisy, and how far people will go when ambition hides behind patriotism.
The film premiered at Popcorn Frights Festival in 2023, where it was praised for its sleek production and symbolic undertones. Audiences went in expecting a bloody good time — and walked out discussing their local elections instead.
A Town, a Mask, and Many Secrets
The story unfolds in Fairwood, a fictional small town preparing to celebrate its 300th anniversary. The community is tense — election season has divided the residents, and the mayoral candidates are more concerned with image than leadership. When a gruesome murder shakes the town, all that civic pride turns to paranoia.
At the heart of the story is Allison Chambers, played by Naomi Grace, a sharp, empathetic young woman caught between loyalty to her family and her moral compass. Her brother, Adam Faulkner (Devin Druid), becomes a key figure in the unraveling mystery, while Commissioner Peterson (Catherine Curtin) embodies the struggle between tradition and accountability.
The film’s killer — masked like a judge, gavel in hand — quickly becomes an icon. The design itself is pure metaphor: justice turned into vengeance, authority twisted into violence. Every kill feels like a symbolic execution of moral corruption. The more the bodies pile up, the more the town’s pristine façade crumbles.
The Bloomquist Brothers’ Vision
Behind the camera, Erik and Carson Bloomquist weren’t just making another slasher; they were building a reflection of America’s small-town political theater. The idea for Founders Day had been brewing for years — starting as a straightforward murder mystery before morphing into a social satire.
The brothers grew up in Connecticut, surrounded by the kind of towns they later filmed in. They understood the charm — and the tension — of tight-knit communities where everyone knows each other’s secrets but pretends not to. That familiarity seeps into every frame.
Erik has said in interviews that the killer’s look — the powdered wig, the red robes, the gavel-like weapon — was designed to be “equal parts absurd and terrifying.” It mocks the idea of self-righteous power while staying faithful to the genre’s theatricality. Carson, on the other hand, pushed the narrative’s political edge, weaving generational clashes and social media-era rivalries into the script.
Their approach made Founders Day stand out: not a spoof, not an overly serious horror either — just a story where satire and suspense share the same bloody stage.
The Faces Behind the Fear
Devin Druid, known for 13 Reasons Why, found himself drawn to Adam’s quiet vulnerability. His character isn’t the typical horror protagonist — he’s caught between youthful rebellion and adult disillusionment. In several interviews, Druid admitted that his personal experiences with pressure and self-identity helped him ground the role.
Naomi Grace, relatively new to major projects at the time, carried much of the film’s emotional weight. Allison isn’t just a “final girl” — she’s the moral center, the one character constantly choosing empathy in a world built on ego. Grace spoke about how she saw parallels between Allison’s quiet resilience and her own struggle to break into an industry that often sidelines newcomers.
Then there’s Catherine Curtin, the film’s veteran powerhouse. As Commissioner Peterson, she injects gravitas and warmth into the chaos. Her real-life activism and outspoken nature mirror her character’s fierce sense of justice — even when the system around her is crumbling.
Rounding out the cast, Adam Weppler plays a morally conflicted campaign worker. Weppler, a frequent collaborator with the Bloomquists, revealed that his performance was informed by his own experiences with burnout and disillusionment — themes that resonate deeply in Founders Day.
A Set Built on Grit and Community
Founders Day was filmed across Connecticut — particularly around New Milford and other small towns that gave it an authentic, autumnal charm. The Bloomquist brothers intentionally used local architecture, schools, and community centers to create that believable “everyone knows everyone” feel.
But indie horror is never easy. The crew worked on tight budgets and even tighter schedules. Cold night shoots tested everyone’s patience, and certain outdoor scenes had to be reshot due to unpredictable New England weather.
One of the toughest sequences — the nighttime town-square confrontation — took several nights to perfect. Fog machines broke down, the lighting had to be reconfigured, and extras had to be called back multiple times. Yet that chaos lent the film its raw, lived-in atmosphere.
Despite the hardships, the cast developed a genuine camaraderie. Naomi Grace recalled how the Bloomquists would end shooting days by cooking dinner for everyone — a small gesture that kept spirits alive during long, grueling nights.
Between Politics and Popcorn
When Founders Day finally released in January 2024, reactions were mixed but passionate. Some critics admired its ambition, calling it “a love letter to classic slashers with a civic twist.” Others found its tonal blend uneven — unsure whether to laugh, think, or scream.
But audiences had fun. Horror fans dissected the killer’s symbolism online, political junkies debated its satire, and younger viewers loved its social-media-savvy presentation. For many, it was refreshing to see a slasher film actually say something — even if that something was wrapped in blood and irony.
Interestingly, the movie’s marketing leaned into its absurdity. Taglines like “One Nation Under Blood” and “Let Freedom Scream” went viral for their cheeky wit, and memes featuring the masked judge began circulating even before the film’s wide release.
Financially, it wasn’t a blockbuster, but for an independent horror flick, it held its own — earning back its modest budget and securing the Bloomquists’ place as creative voices to watch.
What Stayed After the Screams
What makes Founders Day linger isn’t just its jump scares or mystery. It’s the uncomfortable mirror it holds up to everyday life. Beneath the crimson theatrics, it’s about the decay of civic trust, about how “community” can crumble under self-interest, and how truth often wears a mask.
Off screen, the filmmakers, like their characters, were navigating ambition, resource limits, and the struggle for recognition. That parallel — between the fictional Fairwood’s facade and the indie filmmaker’s hustle — gives the movie a strangely human pulse.
In the end, Founders Day isn’t just about who the killer is. It’s about what the town — and perhaps the audience — becomes when morality turns into performance. It’s small-town horror with something bigger on its mind: that sometimes, the scariest monsters are the ones that smile for the camera.
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