Clown in a Cornfield (2025)

Score: 2.5 / 5

Teenaged Quinn Maybrook (Katie Douglas) relocates to rural Missouri with her father Glenn (Aaron Abrams, Hannibal), the new town doctor. Their relationship is strained after the premature death of Quinn's mother, and Kettle Springs is no place to cultivate much love. The town celebrates its heritage proudly in the form of its mascot, Frendo the Clown, a commercial creation for the Baypen Corn Syrup factory, seemingly the raison d'etre for the town's existence. But there is a stark generational divide, and the town's older citizens clearly resent Gen Z and its attitudes and disrespect of history, money, and power. Founder's Day is approaching, and there will be blood to pay as the town celebrates.

Based on a 2020 young adult novel, Clown in a Cornfield is a simple, rote exercise in teen slashers. Indeed, as a slasher, the film fails to add anything of substance to its subgenre. Apart from its admittedly effective setting -- most of the film takes place in and around large corn fields and barns at night -- and the homicidal clowns themselves, the story treads over so many familiar tropes that it often reminded me of other, more original stories I'd rather rewatch, like Dark Harvest or Children of the Corn. Though this title notably flips the script by (SPOILER ALERT) making the older generation the cult of murderers, it's so obvious from the early moments that I kept waiting for something more exciting to occur. Even AHS: Cult handled killer clowns better than this, and clowns aren't something I've historically found frightening (apart from the clown sightings in 2016). 

To discuss the film is to spoil it, so I hope you've already seen it, if you have any interest. Essentially, by the halfway point, as the high schoolers party in a remote farmhouse, they are assaulted en masse by a posse of clowns emerging from the twilight stalks. A bloodbath ensues: despite a satisfyingly high body count, most of the actual kills in this movie are comparably tame, even neutered, presumably for a younger audience. The characters are all archetypal to a fault, from sarcastic and foul-mouthed Quinn with her incessant one-liners and excessive f-bombs to her love interest Cole (Carson MacCormac, Shazam! and Fury of the Gods), a sweet and popular privileged boy who maintains an arm's length distance. The Black boy is killed first, then the weightlifting meathead; eventually the blonde mean girl gets pitchforked and it's all very predictable and expected. 

By the time it's revealed that the clowns are the older residents -- including the kids' awful teacher, the shopkeeper, the diner waitress -- I was hoping for more and finally got it. Sort of. There's some keen commentary here on generational division, respect for heritage, and critique of capitalistic power. The syrup factory, which essentially created and sustains Kettle Springs, burned down, and these kids are becoming famous on the internet (65k followers, if my notes are correct) for capitalizing on "killer clown" short videos. Staging their own fame, the kids are viewed by their elders as undesirables, eschewing tradition and forsaking legacy, and so the elders apparently periodically band together to slaughter their own children. Does it make sense? No. But this is the substance of so much YA material, and it does offer a nugget of fascinating insight into the fracturing political rot of small towns these days.

The climax occurs when Cole's father, the mayor (Kevin Durand, Abigail, Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes, The Strain, recently), unmasks himself as the ringleader of the killers and attempts to hang his own son. Not enough psychological attention is provided to his character to justify filicide, though it is strongly suggested to be due to Cole's identity as gay. That's the other big reveal -- gosh, there's a lot of twists in this remarkably simple narrative -- and we learn that Cole (despite being a teenager) had a tumultuous relationship with his ex, quite literally the "boy next door" to Quinn, named Rust. Thankfully, Quinn and her father and the two young men survive the night and the clowns are all dead, though the mayor escapes in time to allow for a sequel.

If you like young adult horror, this should fit the bill for some light entertainment. What Clown in a Cornfield (the title should be plural, irritatingly) lacks in gore it makes up for in premise, which opens the door for compelling discussion around rural politics and economics; too bad its screenplay doesn't offer more substance to chew in that regard. Its characters are unlikable but gutsy -- excepting its lovesick gay teens, who are a bit too charming -- so the eventual survivors do earn our affections; pretty much everyone else dies. The adults are bad (It comes to mind as another referent here), the fields are dangerous, and the action is chaotic in a rather satisfying way, at least until the film decides to overexplain its own motives. And there is something to be said for a story that knows its target audience and caters to it: the kids, regardless of their attitudes, have to fend for themselves because the previous generation sold them out and can't bear the impending retribution. 

Little Evil (2017)

Score: 3.5 / 5

Netflix has gotten really savvy with some of its feature film choices, and Little Evil might be one of the most exemplary of both its brilliance and shortcomings in choosing to pump out these pictures. Movies made-for-streaming is still a pretty new phenomenon, but there seem to be a few key points to hit if they are going to be watched and appreciated. They can't be too lengthy. They have to be either blatantly funny or deadly serious. They should have a recognizable cast.

Frankly, I think Netflix has produced some really beautiful movies; even ones I wouldn't call favorites I still think of fondly and would be willing to watch again. Little Evil is one of these. Sharp and witty, briefly frightening but ultimately charming, it's a thoroughly pleasant thing to watch even on a small screen, and it only lasts 90-something minutes. Its tight editing and relentlessly fast pace keeps it moving at the speed of a self-aware television sitcom.

Adam Scott, who really should be the reigning scream king of today, serves up major daddy vibes while carrying this fun little flick. He plays Gary, a man recently married to Sam (Evangeline Lilly) and attempting to bond with her five-year-old son Lucas. Lucas is quiet and generally ignores Gary, preferring to talk with his hand puppet in the shape of a goat. It's weird, but nothing out of the ordinary, until Lucas's voice starts to change as he speaks the voice of the goat and can be heard whispering a strange, threatening language by night. Then his teacher kills herself. A clown at his birthday party lights himself on fire. Gary finds out all Sam's ex-boyfriends are dead.

But The Omen this is not, exactly. You might be tempted to read this movie as a parody of that 1976 classic, and you might be right to do so. It definitely references little Damien, along with several other supernatural horror films that involve wicked, victimized children, notably Poltergeist and The Amityville Horror. But I found that the movie's meta commentary on the genre that celebrates even as it pokes fun was more endearing than gimmicky. Moreover, the heart of the movie really is quite warm and concerns the delicate relationship between a step-parent and a young child who may not fully understand who they are or who their family is.

As Gary and Lucas embark on their father-son trials, we do not expect it to end well. Gary becomes convinced that Lucas is the spawn of Satan, the Antichrist determined to bring about the apocalypse. How do you bond with a kid like that? His temper is murderous, his mannerisms creepy, and his obsession with channeling demonic voices disturbing at best. Things reach an ugly peak when Gary tries to put the kid to bed and ends up being buried alive in his backyard. In order to save himself and the world -- and for some healthy revenge -- he plots to kill Lucas at the water park. But after a dubiously divine sign convicts him, he saves Lucas and the two apologize to each other. Their bond was surprisingly emotional for me, and the rest of the movie rejoices in the budding father-son dynamic of this unlikely duo.

Sweet, funny, and clever, the movie  doesn't demand much from you and won't be remembered for any unique brilliance. But it gets a lot of things right, from its diverse cast and characterizations -- when was the last time you saw a skinny, straight white man on a demon-hunting mission with a butch lesbian and a midget? -- to its affecting emotional intelligence. Its bit parts are cast well too, including Clancy Brown, Sally Field, and Chip Zien. And, really, if this is the basic output from Netflix, we're all in for a good time during this quarantine season.