I Saw the TV Glow

Director: Jane Schoenbrun
Starring: Justice Smith, Brigette Lundy-Paine, Helena Howard, Lindsey Jordan, Danielle Deadwyler, Fred Durst, Conner O' Malley, Emma Portner, Phoebe Bridgers
Running Time: 100 min.
Rating: PG-13

**The Following Review Contains Plot Spoilers For 'I Saw The TV Glow' **

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★) 

Destined for cult status, writer/director Jane Schoenbrun's horror/sci-fi parable I Saw the TV Glow is a lot of things at once, at least to audiences willing and able to connect with it. Ambitious and beguiling, it's a surrealistic trip that utilizes its modest budget to craft a work of art that feels twice its size. Exploring the most uncomfortable corners of the soul, it's also a strangely moving exploration of loneliness, isolation, the passage of time and our complicated relationship with pop culture.

Centering around a reluctant friendship between two teen misfits, this starts as a strangely muted coming-of-age story until eventually evolving into this creepy, hypnotic tone poem that carries echoes of David Lynch and Donnie Darko. Buoyed by two startling performances, it's been described by Schoenbrun as a trans or queer allegory, but its themes are broad enough that viewers can interpret what they wish. Suffocated and suppressed by their "normal" suburban lives, both characters will take different paths to diverging destinations, their journeys flashing by in what seems like an instant.

It's 1996 when shy, withdrawn seventh grader Owen (Ian Foreman) meets ninth grade outsider Maddy (Brigette Lundy-Paine) on election night and she introduces him to the young adult television series, The Pink Opaque. A bizarre, supernatural cross between The X-Files, Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Are You Afraid of the Dark?, the show centers around teen girls Isabel (Helena Howard) and Tara (Lindsey Jordan) who discover a shared psychic connection while fighting monsters each week. 

When Owen sneaks out at night to watch the show at Maddy's house, a strict bedtime curfew set by his overprotective parents Brenda (Danielle Deadwyler) and Frank (Fred Durst) quickly puts an end to that. Flash forward a couple of years and an older Owen (now played by Justice Smith) is getting episode tapes from Maddy as each continue watching to escape their miserable home lives. But when Maddy suddenly disappears, only to reemerge almost a decade later, she reveals shocking details about the program that heavily blur the lines between fiction and reality.          

Owen and Maddy have an almost immediate pull as characters the moment we meet them, but the two year age gap between a ninth grade girl and seventh grade boy may as well be an eternity for anyone this age. That's why the casting of two different actors as Owen is such a brilliant detail, with Foreman and Smith's anguished takes functioning as mirrored reflections of each other, never leaving the slightest shred of doubt they're one in the same. Smith's lumbering walk, sad eyes and crackling, exasperated voice that sounds as if it pains Owen to even speak. It's only when he meets the dry, cynical Maddy that he opens up a little, finding a connection with someone experiencing similar angst.

That Owen and Maddy's bond is forged through this show will resonate with those who knows how much more a piece of entertainment means when shared with a friend rather than discovered on your own. But besides The Pink Opaque functioning as a comment on our messy attachment with media and nostalgia, Schoenbrun really makes it looks like something straight out of the mid 90's, cheaply produced but with an unmistakable creative flair. The show can be viewed as either terrible or intriguing, which is exactly the point when Owen rewatches it decades later, deflated by the realization of how "cheesy" something he once loved now looks through his older eyes. 

The barrier separating this film from the series within it becomes invisible, and for those scoffing at its horror classification, the show's terrifying, moon faced antagonist, "Mr. Melancholy" and his "luna juice" will settle any doubts. Like any beloved show of the moment, it'll face cancellation, and with that comes Maddy's curiously timed disappearance. It's surprising is just how many years the film manages to span, sweeping us along with Owen as he processes the ramifications of her sudden return. Why she left their small town isn't a mystery. The real question involves what happened to her since. 

Alex G's mesmerizing score and Eric K. Yue's purplish, neon drenched cinematography only bolster an indescribable third act that heads into trippy Twin Peaks territory, complete with a nightclub scene (featuring Phoebe Bridgers and Sloppy Jane) where we learn how the show infiltrated their psyches in ways only one can decipher or admit to. For Maddy, it's her salvation, and while the script contains some meta observations about TV finales and reboots, the true challenge is in getting Owen to summon the strength to also break through. Lundy-Paine, who already impressed in both Neflix's Atypical and Bill & Ted Face the Music provides Maddy with just the right mix of cynicism and vulnerability, especially while somehow conveying the impossible to her friend.

Owen has more than one opportunity to cross over, but can't quite find a way out of his own personal hell. The last scene is agonizing to watch, as his screams of anguish go unheard and the art he consumed decades earlier proves a more accurate reflection of his true self than what passes as reality. All that's left are memories built on a lie, and the declaration that "It's Not Too Late." But is it? Only in the beautifully tragic final minutes do we fully understand the frustrating irony behind that phrase, even if our challenge wrestling with the film's many ideas has seemingly just begun.  

The Voyeurs

Director: Michael Mohan
Starring: Sydney Sweeney, Justice Smith, Ben Hardy, Natasha Liu Bordizzo, Katharine King, Cameo Adele, Jean Yoon
Running Time: 116 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★) 

Prime Video's aggressively unsubtle erotic thriller The Voyeurs is yet another reminder that few other films have been remade as much as Rear Window without being explicitly acknowledged as such. This latest hypersexualized twist on the premise won't be the last, incorporating elements from that and some other knock-offs through the years, many of which are inferior. A recent one, Netflix's problematic The Woman in the Window, was heavily criticized for taking itself too seriously and failing to fully embrace its absurdity, a cardinal sin when dabbling in this genre. Anyone turned off by that restraint should find much more to enjoy in writer/director Michael Mohan's far racier, adventurous escape since the last thing it'll be accused of is holding back.

There are some intriguing ideas here and even if a good amount of them seem casually discarded in favor of third act twists and shocks, it's at least craftly made and features a noteworthy lead performance. But while it may be fun to speculate what these actors could have done with more elevated material, the realization quickly sets in that's just not what this is. If a movie's trying to be a trashy modern day erotic thriller and is, does that make it a success? This isn't Hitchcock, much less Lynch or DePalma, but that's not the goal, as there's this strange pull to it's ludicrousness that makes it hard to turn away despite its obvious narrative missteps. In other words, you get what's advertised.     

Young couple Pippa (Sydney Sweeney) and Thomas (Justice Smith) are on cloud nine having just signed the lease to move into their first apartment together in Montreal. Noticing their windows give them an excellent view of the neighbors across the street, they've taken an increased interest in this mystery couple they've named "Margot" (Natasha Liu Bordizzo) and "Brent," (Ben Hardy). After seeing them having sex in the kitchen, Pippa and Thomas develop a bit of an stalkerish obsession with the pair that they know is wrong, even as they can't seem to control themselves, simultaneously repulsed and turned on by what appears to be a psychologically abusive relationship. But when they realize "Brent" uses the pad to bed models when "Margot" isn't home, things take a more serious turn with Pippa feeling obligated to expose the truth. Complicating matters is her burgeoning friendship with "Margot," leading Pippa to make a fateful decision that sends all four of their lives spiraling toward an unexpectedly tragic destination. 

Much of the opening act consists of Pippa and Thomas jokingly and nervously attempting to downplay their voyeuristic interest until letting their guard down and just proudly submitting to their curiosity. But it isn't all fun and games for long, as it's impossible to overlook the very obvious irony of us intently watching them watch this couple, waiting for the other shoe to drop. And it does. After assigning the impossibly attractive neighbors names, Pippa and Thomas get a little too close for comfort, their true lives coming into full view. "Brent" is Seb, a sleazy, succcessful photographer who prefers to go shirtless while shooting his models and "Margot" is actually a seemingly directionless ex-model named Julia who seems to be stuck in his web of gaslighting deceit.

That Pippa just so happens to be an optometrist might be the most notable example of Mohan's obsessive use of ocular symbolism and motifs, executed with all the subtly of a sledgehammer. But it helps that Pippa and Thomas are actually fairly likable, proving especially beneficial in the early going as their couple chemistry and banter is required to move the story along. Similarly, Seb and Julia do emerge as something more than the constructs they start as, at least before things start unraveling later on. 

The White Lotus and Euphoria's Sydney Sweeney has already been earmarked as a major breakout and watching this it's easy to see why since her performance outright carries the film, bringing a heartbreaking realism to some really crazy material and character choices that are questionable at best. But she handles it all, exposing herself in more than just the strictly literal ways, as the admittedly silly but fun script pushes and pulls in wild directions to deliver some decent-sized thrills. Her aforementioned scenes opposite Justice Smith carry a natural vibe to that of those with Bordizzo and Hardy, who are both effective in roles that could be considered bizarro opposites of the two leads.

To its credit, the plot hinges on a big twist that's fairly surprising and insane, destined to either induce unintentional laughter or praise at its sheer audacity. Lacking the typical problem of most modern erotic thrillers that tend to be neither erotic or thrilling, The Voyeurs deserves credit for putting forth an admirable effort in both departments, throwing back to tawdry 90's entries in the genre that used to run on late night TV. It's even clear from the opening title sequence, during which Danielle Steele-stylized credits appear on screen as Angel Olsen's cover of Billy Idol's "Eyes Without a Face" plays over the action. It's a pretty bold introduction, but also fitting for a film that walks right up to that line and practically dares you to mock it, unafraid of embracing its own campiness.