I Saw The TV Glow Review Devastating Tale Of Identity, Fandom And Obsession
The influx of "elevated" horror films , focused on producing adequate style rather than cohesion or cohesion, wreaked havoc on an already dying genre. This web is incredibly difficult to weave. Jordan Peele himself had some setbacks after a concussion, but many continue to try and turn their dissertations into films.
But in the fantastic new animated film I'm seeing on television at the Sanadas Film Festival, writer-director Jen Schoenbrunn keeps it simple and creates something meaningful yet light that inspires us to talk. And you argue without feeling that this is an academic exercise, a film that never forgets that it is a film.
What makes their film doubly impressive is that it speaks to a relatively new nostalgia, a big and small screen consumed by pop culture references thrown at us without thought, consideration or recognition for recognition's sake. But I mostly watch TV Glow from the 90s and early 2000s, it's much edgier. Schönbrunn saves others from their mistakes by boldly creating her own entirely believable media persona (the songs of early Phoebe Bridgers and Caroline Polachek feel thoroughly modern without pastiche) and by acknowledging that nostalgia can be a destructive force. It is unclear to blame their film on fandom. Schönbrunn knows how incredible and inspiring a true loving culture can be, but he knows the problems such an obsession can cause when it extends beyond one subject. anything. To be everything to you.
We first see 12-year-old Owen (brilliantly played by Let the Right One's Ian Forman) watching something on TV. He saw an ad for a teen fantasy show called Opaque Rose and became a Buffy-style monster of the week (which airs after bedtime on Saturday nights). When ninth grader Maddie (Atype's Bridget Lundy-Paine) reads the series' episode guide, the two begin a shy, awkward friendship: Owen lies about sleeping with another friend so he can watch scenes with her. As the years pass, Owen (played by the demanding 14-year-old Judge Smith) and Maddie are quiet, their relationship limited to taped episodes, and both living awkwardly outside their own little lives. The screen world where they are spoiled. Things begin to fall apart when the series is cancelled, and years later, when the two men see each other in their twenties, they begin to question the nature of reality.
I didn't always believe that Schönbrunn's first lo-fi internet horror film, We're All Gonna Gonna to the World's Fair, was great or incomplete, but once I was convinced it could create depth. An eerie feeling, subtle but often all-consuming, that stays with you longer than you'd like. I considered the brilliance of the TV show to be Schoenbrunn's remarkable development as a writer and director with more important yet interesting, wonderful and wonderfully elaborate narratives that immerse us in the characters he creates. It was done with such precision that I can still feel it when I write. The atmosphere is so intoxicating that it feels less like making a movie and more like creating an entire world, a scary, tragic place that is more impenetrable to some of us than others.
Not only do we change and close as people, but our ability to escape into fiction increases with age as the way we consume entertainment changes. Schönbrun understands the joys and rewards of our physical journey, the obstacles we face and the contributions we can make, the love it requires and the strength it brings. There is a small emotional moment. The scene where Owen discovers that his once-popular show is now available for adults to watch, all at the touch of a button, but it looks different, feels different, and he's suddenly embarrassed; Was it all true?
What the film is ultimately about is taking us to uncomfortable places, exploring the same crazy obsession the characters have for their favorite TV series. It's about loneliness and worship, and what it's like to struggle with mental illness or to be close to someone struggling, to see someone lose what they've held on to and have that pain. But it's also a story about what it means to be gay or transgender, with Schönbrunn using both characters to show the devastating consequences of a life unlived, reminiscent of Andrew Haig's poignant drama The Stranger Among Us. A non-binary and trans artist, Schönbrunn has found a way to intelligently and sensitively engage with experiences that are often dismissed or appropriated by the general public. The final act is pure madness that shakes us up a bit, but as we pull back, the almighty punch in the stomach, the screams of pain still ring in my ears. I viewed the TV glove as a puzzle with missing pieces, and as many of you will soon see, I couldn't wait to try and find it.
