Kombucha

A Body-Horror Satire on Corporate Family that Will Make You Sick.

What if a corporation wasn’t just a company, but an insidious narcissistic villain? Jake Myers’ “Kombucha” takes this premise and pushes it into a grotesque, darkly hilarious territory.

The film is a humorous disturbing satire on how companies keep you chained to your desk, enforce a reign of healthy living, and insist it’s all for your benefit—when in reality, the only thing they care about is squeezing every ounce of productivity out of you.

But what is kombucha, really? A fizzy tea brewed with a floating blob of bacteria and yeast—supposedly a cleansing drink.

Sounds like the perfect recipe for a healthy bad trip—and that’s precisely what toxic environments are. They welcome you in like family, only to trap you in a system that alters your perception of work, dreams, and private life, leaving you physically and mentally sick.

Are today’s new illnesses really the result of such dehumanizing environments?

“Kombucha” cleverly lays bare how corporations build a cult-like ideology: follow the leader or be cast out. Bullying, gaslighting, mobbing—these tactics convince you that you are the problem whenever you raise concerns or notice cracks in their so-called happy club.

Mistakes are quickly patched over to polish the company image, but the shadow of those lies always leaves a stain.

“Kombucha” isn’t just a satire of money-corrupted culture; it also skewers the wellness industry and the influencers who flood our feeds with promises of eternal youth and boundless energy.

These fads are dressed-up placebos, stripping us of our money while offering nothing lasting. Like fashion trends, they come and go.

Co-written by Myers and Geoff Bakken, “Kombucha” is a natural evolution of their 2023 short film of the same name. It blends satire, body horror, and comedy with some truly stomach-churning moments.

The story follows a struggling musician, Luke (Terrence Carey), who takes a cushy corporate job, only to discover that the company-provided drink has sinister side effects.

Much of the narrative unfolds in the sterile Symbio office, evoking comparisons to the series Severance for its manipulation and erosion of personal identity, while blending in Cronenberg-style grotesquerie and the greasy practical effects of the cult Society.

The cinematography is key, with grey-blue tones contrasted with warm orange hues that establish a clinical yet oddly inviting environment.

The gooey horror of the kombucha then provides a sticky, grotesque counterpoint. It’s a visual style at once snarky and slimy, perfectly embodying the theme of being consumed by work.

The film taps into a screenlife storytelling approach, using phones and digital communication as narrative tools to highlight our loss of human connection.

It’s a curious blend of nostalgic 1980s-style practical effects with the fast-pace of today’s tech world. This descent of corrupted victims heightens both the humor and the psychological manipulation, making the absurdity feel uncomfortably real.

“Kombucha” is a provocation. Myers invites us to reflect: heed it, or keep wearing your fake corporate smile. The real question is whether we’ll keep drinking.