Ghosted for Views
directed by Daniel Aranha Pedersen
Denmark/Germany. 2026. 15 min.
Desperate to win back his audience after a crypto scandal, a YouTuber films himself spending the night in a haunted house, only to realize the haunting is real.
by Jesse Knight
Horror is at its most fun when the scariest elements are the most unexpected.
To appropriately and accurately lampoon influencers or streamers on screen, the trick is to not hyperbolize their desperation. You can’t heighten something that’s already reached its peak, so why bother? Often these characters are imbued with too much life and passion when the reality is that, like any routine job or menial task, there’s a mundane aspect to their pursuit. To appropriate and accurately lampoon influencers or streamers on screen, present them as an ever-blackening void, one that resembles the type of fame they’re chasing. The deader, the better.
Filmmaker and funnyperson Daniel Aranha Pedersen incorporates this trick throughout Ghosted for Views, from its inspired casting (nearly every line delivery from the two leads gives the sensation of picking up previously untapped frequencies) to a plot that follows its YouTuber protagonist into an actual abyss in pursuit of clicks. As he haplessly and hopelessly trundles toward his goal, the darkness threatens to swallow him whole.
What was the initial push behind making the film?
I’ve always wanted to do something [about] people who are obsessed with being famous. I didn’t really know where to go from there, and then I thought, “Oh, YouTubers and streamers.” I just found them so fascinating because, I’m a filmmaker, but they make films as well. They’re all about retention and keeping people hooked and getting views. I was thinking if they were in a horror situation, that’s an excuse to create a character whose motivation I understand. Because when you watch a horror movie, you’re always like, “Oh, get the fuck out of the house. Like, get out of the house!” But this is a character who has a reason to stay in the house and do whatever it takes. And I really liked that we could make this very cheaply because we could shoot it like an actual YouTube video.
How do you go about balancing comedy and horror, and knowing where to show restraint and ride the line so you can get away with both, but also not take away from either?
I’ve done a lot of comedy projects before, like sketch comedy, but with this one I wasn’t really thinking about making it into a comedy. And the lead actor, Robin [Boissevan], is just a very funny guy, whether he’s trying to be or not. So I didn’t really focus on it being funny. That just happened naturally.
This was the first time I’ve ever made a horror movie. So that was about doing a lot of research into the techniques of shooting horror, and finding the perfect location. I would say the focus was much more on the horror, and then the comedy just naturally happened.
What kind of research were you doing?
I was thinking, “What is it that makes it so scary when I watch a horror movie?” It’s the anticipation, you know? Robin showed me Backrooms. He showed me all of Kane Parsons’ short films on YouTube and we were like, “This is fucking great. This is anticipation, anticipation, anticipation,” and you have the POV. So, that was what I was researching: the anticipation, the POV, and the tone.
“We rented the Airbnb [for the haunted house] and we all stayed there at night as well, which was so cool, the entire crew staying together. We were like, ‘If we had rented this house for a holiday, this would be such a horrible location to be in.’”
The house is pretty incredible, and when you get to the bedroom you’ve got your big centerpiece location. Where’d you find the house, and what went into designing the bedroom?
Damn, dude. The house. I found it on Airbnb in this small town in the middle of Germany. I saw pictures of it and was like, “Oh my god, look at this.” We went out to visit the house, and I can’t really speak German. I had my cinematographer with me who translated when we said, “We want to shoot a movie here.” And she was like, “Oh yeah?”
She showed us the rooms, and there’s this green room in the movie, which had pictures of old Nazi soldiers. She said, “Yes, this was my family.” And we realized this room hasn’t changed since the ‘50s. Then she asked, “What kind of movie are you shooting?” My cinematographer said, “Horror movie.” She said, “Oh, you’re shooting a horror movie? Let me show you the barns.” I thought, “This is the scariest shit I’ve seen in my life.” We did some set design, but the locations just looked like that. Everything was already there.
It was a low-budget film, so we rented the Airbnb and we all stayed there at night as well, which was so cool, the entire crew staying together. We were like, “If we had rented this house for a holiday, this would be such a horrible location to be in.” But it was so much fun.
“I wanted to tell a story that begins as a flashy YouTube stunt and slowly unravels into something much darker.”
My favorite part about this movie are the performances from your two leads. They’re both off-kilter in a very specific way that I found kind of mesmerizing. What went into casting these two?
So the lead, Robin, is a Dutch actor I went to film school with. When I started writing the script, I had him in mind the whole time. I gave him a bunch of YouTubers to watch and the first thing he noticed was that there was nothing behind the eyes. They were speaking with so much emotion, but there was nothing behind the eyes.
So he was exploring that, giving the character some sociopathic elements. He’s worked on big Netflix sets, and he wanted to play it real. Every single scene he was like, “Why is the character doing this? I would do this.” He took it extremely seriously.
And then Fie [Poulsen] has acted in some other projects I’ve done and I had her audition. There was this chemistry between them that was a little bit sexy, but also really scary in a sense. It was like, “Yeah, this fucking works. Let’s go with these two.”
When he says, “I’m a YouTuber,” and she says, “What’s that?” she delivers it with such earnestness and sincerity and innocence, you kind of envy her that she has no idea what he’s talking about. She’s blissfully ignorant to all this stuff we’re stuck knowing about. There really is a weird depth to their chemistry.
There’s also so much happening when they’re not saying their lines because he’s in this absurd situation. He’s like, “Who the fuck is this person? Is it someone who’s haunting the house or is it just this crazy lady living here? What’s going on?” There’s this balance of being on guard but also being polite. There are so many things said between the lines.
What were some of your early creative obsessions, and how’d those lead you to filmmaking?
From very early on, I was obsessed with comedy and writing, especially comedy. I also did the Upright Citizen Brigade in New York and LA, and put on live sketch comedy shows. I thought, “I’m going to do comedy, comedy, comedy. That’s my life.” Then I started film school in Denmark and I got into directing, and this is going to sound a bit pretentious, but I think I evolved into being a filmmaker who’s less concerned with genre. I just want to write a story and see where it takes me in terms of genre. Initially what brought me into filmmaking was comedy, but now it’s telling stories.
I also love filmmakers who are very focused on genre, and films with a strong visual style. I don’t think it has to be either/or. It’s just how you work as a filmmaker. How you tell stories.
What does making a movie like this, that explores the obsession with being famous and getting views and being kind of hollowed out by it all, teach you about your own relationship with the internet?
Making this film made me realize how addicted I was to the internet, especially YouTube and TikTok—and how easily that happens. Usually, when you’re exploring a new character, you have to research their work, what they do or where they’re from. With this, we already knew so much because it’s all there online. The number of hours I spend on this shit is a bit terrifying.
That being said, I also love that my films can go on the internet. I also love making skits. And my livelihood is putting work online, so I’m also appreciative of it. But it’s a complex relationship. It really is. And this film made me really think about it. Everyone in the crew was like, “Yeah, this is fucked.”
What do you do to cope, or do you just kind of barrel through?
I don’t know. I do cold-turkey days. No YouTube for the entire day and stuff like that.
That works?
Yeah, it works. Even putting a fucking timer on so it says your time’s up. That works really well for me.
What do you do when the timer’s up?
I want to say I put my phone down. Sometimes I don’t. If it’s the weekend and I’m a bit hungover, I keep watching. But usually I’m like, “Okay, that’s a couple of hours. Bye-bye.” And then I try and do something else.
Philippine-born, half-Danish, half-Indian director and writer Daniel Aranha Pedersen graduated from European Film College in 2016.
Since then he has worked professionally as a director, videographer, and producer on numerous commercials and music videos. He has also written and directed several short films and web series, and acted in both features and short films.