I Saw the TV Glow (2024)

Direction: Jane Schoenbrun
Country: USA

Like in her previous feature, We're All Going to the World's Fair (2021), director Jane Schoenbrun blurs the line between reality and fantasy in I Saw the TV Glow, a depressing psychedelic trip filled with mind-inducing eeriness and ambiguity. 

The narrative follows Owen (Justice Smith), a 7th-grade teenager living in the suburbs, who becomes addicted to an obscure TV show called The Pink Opaque. His life gets less empty when he bumps into Maddy Wilson (Brigette Lundy-Paine), another obsessed fan who admits the show feels more real than real life. Suddenly, they realize they have become players in a dangerous game. Everything changes when Maddy leaves without a trace, only to return eight years later with a confused memory and a different notion of time. 

I Saw the TV Glow is aesthetically curious, but its disjointed ideas don’t coalesce into a satisfying whole. Schoenbrun can't avoid force-feeding us metaphors during this infinite fever dream, opting for vague contrivances rather than providing real substance. The underlying tension is constantly present but never packs a wallop. The vision is too narrow for that, transforming this experimental gimmick into a lumbering, misguided mess.

The film, co-produced by Emma Stone, aims for the bizarre but ends up more mind-numbing and emotionally deserted than clever. Paranoia and melancholy swallow aimless phosphorescent kids… is that all you’ve got to offer, Ms. Schoenbrun?

Beau is Afraid (2023)

Direction: Ari Aster
Country: USA 

Beau is Afraid is a quirky Freudian odyssey with an unhinged mother/son relationship at the center and some elliptical Kafkaesque situations. Starting off well, it takes a descending curve over the course of a disjointed structure. This exhausting three-hour trip to the edge of madness stars Joaquin Phoenix as the title character. However, even shifting extraordinarily in attitude from child fragility to adulthood deliriums, he’s powerless in the face of an overstuffed script that serves as a lopsided vehicle for his outstanding acting skills. 

For a film by Ari Aster, who gave us horror gems like Hereditary (2018) and Midsommar (2019), it is unspeakably disappointing. It would have been a better horror comedy if it didn’t suffocate in its own ideas. Everything appears to follow a sort of code that needs deciphering, and the systematic metaphors become tiresome as we delve into the real/surreal aspects of a neurotic man whose severe childhood trauma prevents him from finding happiness. Beau tries to reach his mother’s place in time, both before and after her death, but with no success. 

Playing with twisted dimensions and labyrinthine layers, Aster squanders the chance to lead a few good ideas to fruition. The result, much less fascinating than expected, is congested and appalling.

Sick of Myself (2023)

Direction: Kristoffer Borgli
Country: Norway

Sick of Myself is a cruelly ironic and soulless dark comedy drama that flirts with the psychological horror genre. An uneasy, infectiously entertaining romp whose delirious story focuses on two obnoxious narcissists. 

Kristine Kujath Thorp (she delighted us two years ago with Ninjababy) and Eirik Sæther (in his feature debut) star as Signe and Thomas, respectively, two extreme narcissists who keep insanely competing for attention and fame while in a toxic relationship. However, their focuses diverge into distinct directions; whereas he obsesses with his career as a bogus avant-garde artist, she takes her madness further by sacrificing her body and general health in order to get the public’s eye on her. 

Expect to be struck by a mix of sad and funny feelings that, depending on your mood, can delight, depress or infuriate. The sarcastic humor spares no one in a film that aims right, with venom, and painfully hits the right spot in such a manner that we are ready to excuse its redundancies. 

Sadly terrifying and often repulsive, Sick of Myself is not a film I'm likely ever to revisit but is well directed, acted, and observed, even if it takes that observation to a deliberately disturbing satirical degree.

Enys Men (2023)

Direction: Mark Jenkin
Country: UK 

It’s only half-way into the story of Enys Men that things start to click. A non-linear structure intertwines flashbacks from other times and tricks of the mind, disorienting apparitions, strong symbology, unexplainable physical mutations, and a panoply of selected eerie sounds - all these aspects work toward emotional resonance in this heart-stopping folk horror film set in 1973.

A volunteer scientific researcher (Mary Woodvine) observes a rare flower and lichen on a desert island off the coast of Cornwall in South West England. She takes daily notes of her meticulous observations. Strangely, the more her mind tries to focus, the more it sinks into a ghostly nightmare that reveals tragic past occurrences. 

This is the sophomore feature and first foray into the horror genre by arthouse filmmaker Mark Jenkin (Bait, 2019), who wrote the script, photographed, edited, and composed the original score for the film. Shot in 16mm and presented in 4:3 aspect ratio, the grainy colored film feels somewhat minimalistic in the process but it’s never boring, scoring points against other similar folklore-inspired fictions.

Let me remind you that Enys Men, which means stone island in Cornish, is more about sustained creepiness than actual big scares. There’s this indelible sense of isolation, uncanniness and mystery enveloping a skimpy but relentlessly chilly mystery that ingrains the mind after it grabs the senses. Jenkin demonstrates remarkable artistry in the manner he handles the material, and will leave you guessing until the end.