When Work Became a Nightmare
The Conference (2023) didn’t just arrive as another horror-comedy; it snuck up like a cruel office prank that spiraled into chaos. Directed by Patrik Eklund, this Swedish slasher film blended workplace satire with survival horror — and audiences couldn’t get enough of its biting humor and gore-soaked realism.
The story unfolds at a team-building retreat gone wrong. A group of public sector employees gathers in a remote countryside to discuss a controversial mall project — a project laced with corruption, internal conflict, and moral grayness. What begins as forced corporate bonding quickly transforms into a fight for survival when a masked killer starts picking them off, one by one.
But beneath the screams and satire lies a human story — both on-screen and off. The making of The Conference became an unexpected mirror of its own themes: teamwork, exhaustion, absurdity, and the strange sense of unity that can form in chaos.
The Characters Who Carried Their Scars
Katia Winter plays Lina, a conscientious but disillusioned employee who becomes the reluctant moral compass of the group. Her arc — from quiet frustration to raw resilience — mirrors the collective fatigue of modern work culture. Winter admitted in interviews that she saw Lina as “every person who’s ever had to smile through a meeting they hated.”
Filming those scenes of psychological tension wasn’t easy. Winter revealed that she struggled to balance the emotional depth of her character with the film’s satirical tone. “We’d shoot a scene where someone’s literally getting murdered,” she said, “and two minutes later we’d be laughing about the absurdity of office life.”
Adam Lundgren’s role as Jonas, the overly confident project leader, became another standout. His character represents the corporate ego — charming in meetings, clueless in crisis. Lundgren approached the part with surprising empathy, saying, “You can’t play arrogance without understanding insecurity. Jonas is terrified of failure — that’s why he talks so much.”
These characters — flawed, funny, and painfully real — became reflections of the people we all know in our workplaces.
When the Cameras Stopped Rolling
Behind the humor and horror, the cast bonded through the very absurdity they were portraying. Shooting took place in remote Swedish woods under unpredictable weather — heavy rain, freezing nights, and mosquito-infested dawns.
“There was a point where the mud literally swallowed one of our fake props,” recalled production designer Jenny Rosander. “We were chasing after it like it was part of the horror.”
The physicality of the shoot wore down the team. Stunt work, running through forests, and repeated takes for chaotic sequences left the actors bruised and mentally drained. But it was precisely that exhaustion that gave the film its authentic edge.
Eklund often encouraged improvisation, letting the actors play out reactions rather than follow the script. Many of the film’s funniest — and most disturbing — moments were unplanned. One take involving a malfunctioning chainsaw ended up so realistic that it made the final cut.
Between Satire and Survival
The Conference stands out in its ability to take a sardonic view of bureaucracy in its own unique way. It offers a deadpan parody of modern workplaces which are riddled with incompetence, corruption, and toxic positivity that masquerades as team spirit.
Eklund, infamous for his idiosyncratic short films, aimed to “create a horror film that happens during a PowerPoint presentation.” Though eccentric in its premise, it struck a chord with the palpable terror that is present in modern day jobs.
A tension within each shot that is centered around the absurdity of the corporate world and the stark reality of human fragility. Fans are quick to cite the blend as The Office meets Friday the 13th, and they are not incorrect. However, it is grounded in the slow-witted spirit of Sweden: the slow burn of morbid dread combined with absurdist humor that is deeply unsettling.
The Hype Before the Bloodshed
Prior to its release, The Conference sparked a whisper of interest within its genre audience. The preview’s deadpan humor and extreme violence suggested originality. Readers on Reddit and horror enthusiasts on Letterboxd speculated about the film being a “hidden gem” — a title it eventually received.
Curiosity increased when Netflix announced it would have the rights to the film. When it became available to audiences, it was noted for its deadpan humor and compared to Tucker and Dale Vs. Evil and Ready or Not, although The Conference was more serious than other films.
Social commentary was realized in early screenings and reports about the film, where Swedish audiences noted its critique of corporate “ethics” and global audiences recognized the universal relatable office dysfunction.
A regional horror film was expected to earn less revenue, but The Conference did exceptionally well for the genre. It became the most watched Swedish original on Netflix within weeks.
Bonds Forged in Fear
One of the least-known aspects of The Conference’s production was how deeply the cast connected during filming. Forced together for long outdoor shoots and late-night rehearsals, they became a real-life “team-building” group — minus the killer, thankfully.
Katia Winter shared that one evening, after a particularly gruesome shoot, the entire crew gathered around a campfire, exhausted but giddy. “It was surreal,” she said. “We’d just finished a massacre scene, fake blood everywhere, and there we were roasting marshmallows like kids on a field trip.”
That strange camaraderie bled into their performances. By the final act — when alliances crumble and fear takes over — the emotional exhaustion you see on-screen was genuine. “We weren’t acting tired,” joked Lundgren. “We were done.”
The Quiet Genius of Imperfection
The Conference truly flourished on creativity, even if the budget was limited. Many props were made by hand, and because the forest nights were lit minimally, the ‘eerie glow’ was natural. It is said that Eklund preferred practical effects to heavy use of CGI as he thought ‘real blood looks better when the camera’s shaking’.
Though simple as it was, the killer mask – emotionless, beige, and painted – became a symbol. It was designed to look like a generic human face to signify conformity and anonymity. Online fans now see it as ‘the face of corporate evil’, a grotesque analogy to a system that suffocates individuality.
The soundtrack amplified this duality, featuring cheerful corporate jingles and distorted ambient noise, a chaotic clash to represent the underlying turbulence of professionalism.
After the Blood Dried
When The Conference was finally released to audiences, it was not only horror fans that celebrated it. Office workers, filmmakers, and even critics appreciated how the film absurdly captured the intricacies of everyday life within the slasher genre.
It became the stuff of water cooler conversations, spawning memes, fan theories, and even mock “team-building” activities inspired by the film.
For the cast, the film was a reminder of the creative work that exhaustion, cheer, and a brand of madness, like all workplaces, was shared, and was, in fact, a hallmark.
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