I Saw the TV Glow

We're All Going to the World's Fair is one of my favorite movies from the past few years. I came to it a little late, about a year after it first hit VOD, but I immediately fell in love. It's been in my Letterboxd Four Favs ever since, I've written about it multiple times, and it's the only movie I've featured on this blog which wasn't a new release. Hell, I even went on a podcast to defend it, because its reception was lukewarm at best. Which I honestly sort of understand: it's a slow cinema horror film deeply couched in internet culture. Of course, that's part what I love about it: it's such a specific tone, and one I've not seen represented on film before or since. So of course, I've been eagerly awaiting Schoenbrun's follow up for over a year: I mention as much at the end of the aforementioned blog post.

As the name somewhat implies, the concern in this outing is media, most directly the relationship one develops to television. Owen (primarily Justice Smith, with Ian Foreman in pre-1998 scenes) and Maddy (Brigette Lundy-Paine) bond over The Pink Opaque, a show whose dark and surreal presentation is disguised by its airing on the Young Adults Network. For two incredibly awkward and withdrawn teenagers who feel they've no place in their world (and their world has no place for them), there's no better escape than this place of friendship and connection conquering all, even the thousands of miles which separate the show's two heroes. It's a devastating development when it's cancelled at the end of season 5, made even more difficult by Maddy's disappearance shortly beforehand, leaving Owen all alone in his mediocre life.

Owen occupies a dreamlike space, where his his interactions with and perception of the real world are colored by his obsession with the show. He was taught how to exist in his life by it, so it's only natural that he connects so much to it. And correspondingly that we see occasional images of the two bleeding together, such as the opening shot of a neon drenched and smoke spewing ice cream truck sitting at the top of his street, above a bunch of chalk squiggles on the pavement including iconography from the show.

We get a front row seat to the experience of trying to find yourself through media, even when you're not exactly thrilled with your discoveries. Through our main characters, we experience both sides of the coin. Maddy goes to tremendous lengths to embrace her found self, concluding that the only way to truly be content in this world is to let go of her old sense of who she is and embrace this new person. Owen, on the other hand, is too scared. He's in denial about what it all means, and refuses to examine the implications of his deep identification with Isabella (Helena Howard), especially in light of the nature of his relationship to Maddy. He seems to be in the camp of "better the devil you know", concerned that if he abandons the person he's been for fifteen years that he'll never find himself again, failing to realize that he's effectively killing that other part of himself.

As interesting as all these themes are, they're right there in the text, largely commented on by the characters. Not the further implications, sure, but they're a natural extension, so they may as well have been spoken aloud. The subtext was pretty minimal, largely alluded to above. Even the ending is rendered less satisfying by resolving some of the ambiguity to which we've been building. Which is disappointing: part of what made We're All Going to the World's Fair so entrancing was the depths it clearly hid, ready to give up its secrets only if you really pay careful attention to the characters and background and worldbuilding. Its textual story was great, but certain elements made it clear there was more going on should you care to find it. On a first watch, at least, I failed to detect much more going on here, although I'll certainly give it another look once it hits streaming/VOD.

Along with this, much of the dialog and writing overall felt a bit clunky and blunt. Sure, you're trying to capture teenagers who aren't great with people, I get that. But given the theme's are so readily apparent, the lackluster dialog made a strong impression, especially the one or two times we got large chunks of exposition spoken at us. Contrastingly, the periodic bits of voice over didn't bother me at all, probably because of how clearly they were intended to capture the feeling of a TV show. Hell, Owen looks directly at us the couple times he delivers narration while on screen.

Because at the end of the day, this is a vibes movie with some extra depth. The aesthetic is so specifically tailored to my tastes, what with its low key characters and bold neon colors and 90s high-school notebook fonts. Ghosts of static waft through the air, The Pink Opaque truly feels like a 90s TV show, and Schoenbrun perfectly captures sleepwalking through a half-remembered dream. They employ imagery I've never seen before, exercising their previously demonstrated mastery of turning the mundane into places full of dread. Just like We're All Going to the World's Fair, there are a few moments where the dam breaks and that dread comes flooding out in ways that manifest as bone-chilling, existential terror.

Regardless of my problems with the script, Schoenbrun's remarkable talent as a director shines through unencumbered. They have a clear style, and are expert at achieving it. It comes from flat, disassociated characters, a world that's just a little bit off (until that strangeness coalesces into something more), and their unique understanding of how to capture internet culture. There's a remarkable consistency to how people from all walks fit seamlessly into their world, a tribute to the casting team as much as Schoenbrun's direction: somehow neither Danielle Deadwyler nor Fred Durst (yes, that Fred Durst) feel out of place as Owen's mom and dad.

Additionally, this is the second time they've worked with composer Alex G, and both scores and song selections have perfectly complemented what's on screen. They're low-fi while still feeling deliberate, heavily feature static and echo and discordance, highlighted by extensive simple guitar picking and isolated, haunting singing, and drone in and out as the emotional elements ebb and flow. For I Saw the TV Glow, there's more of an unmistakable pop sensibility, partially owing to much of the music coming from existing bands (some pre-existing songs, some original), albeit not the type you'd find anywhere near Top 40. They're some of my favorite scores of recent years, and while they're both vinyl only at present, if they ever get a CD release, I'll be first in line.

With all three of their features (Schoenbrun's debut film was the woefully underseen 2018 documentary A Self-Induced Hallucination), they've demonstrated a fascination with our media landscape and the impact it has on development and culture, as well as an incredibly unique and exciting and fresh approach to that material across numerous aspects. I feel like they're part of this rising class of new(ish) filmmakers, all associated with horror containing plenty of bleed into other genres, and none of them straight white men. Along with Schoenbrun, I'm thinking of Arkasha Stevenson and Rose Glass and Zelda Williams, just off the top of my head. Their films may not be perfect, but they each have their own distinct voices, distinct from each other, as well. Their work is exciting, it's fresh, and they clearly have a ton to say. Despite the staleness of the mainstream Hollywood blockbuster, these filmmakers make the types of movies the world would do well to take note of. It's too early to call them the next big thing, but it feels like they've hit on something special even amongst the decade-long indie boom. I can't wait to see what's next.