“In every generation, there is a Chosen One …”
– Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1997 – 2003)
Writer/director Eli Craig is no stranger to comedic horror between 2010’s Tucker and Dale vs. Evil and 2017’s Little Evil. While the latter is more of a comedic The Omen (1976), the former is as much reverse slasher as it is commentary on media literacy and an audience’s desire to see themselves as the hero regardless of circumstances. It makes sense, then, that Craig would opt for Clown in the Cornfield as his new project, an adaptation of the first book in a (currently) trilogy of young adult horror novels from author Adam Cesare, with its utilization of basic and expected horror tropes to explore larger ideas of generational divide, progressivism vs. conservativism, and the violence done to all when we cling to dying concepts. Having its world premiere during SXSW 2025 before hitting theaters May 2025, Clown in a Cornfield is exactly what you expect from Craig, dark comedy and plenty of flowing blood, but with a bite whose clasp lingers in the afterglow of the watch.
Quinn and her father, Dr. Glenn Maybrook (Katie Douglas and Aaron Abrams, respectively), move to the town of Kettle Springs, Missouri, for a fresh start. The house they move into is rustic and antiquated, the town is small, but at least the local adults seem to have it out for Quinn everywhere she goes. She finds a small bit of community with five teens with a penchant for clown-related horror filmmaking, a reference to Frendo, the mascot for the town’s central livelihood the Baypen Corn Syrup Factory. But it seems that things have gone too far as Frendo starts taking vengeance on those who offend him, leaving Quinn and her new friends on the run from a silent killer with squeaky feet.
At the time of this writing, Cesare has written a total of three Clown books and this reviewer has read none of them. As such, there will be no comparisons to the adaptation process from the books to the Craig and Carter Blanchard-written script. Instead, this will drill down into the ideas present in the film, the cinematography, and anything else that stood out in the watch, so if you’re looking for adaptive accuracy, this review won’t be able to explore it.
L-R: Verity Marks as Ronnie Queen, Cassandra Potenza as Janet Murray, and Katie Douglas as Quinn Maybrook in CLOWN IN A CORNFIELD. Photo courtesy of RLJE Films & Shudder. An RLJE Films & Shudder Release.
Horror films do a number of different things, but they share a commonality — they tap into what someone or something fears. It could be physical disability (Freaks), nuclear fallout (Godzilla), racial integration (Night of the Living Dead), or suburbia (Halloween). With Clowns, you’d think it would be something as simple as an anonymous masked killer (a la Ghostface (Scream series) or The Carver (Thanksgiving (2023)), something preternatural like Michael Meyers (Halloween series), or even just pick a family from various backwoods areas with a penchant for murder (House of 1000 Corpses; The Hills Have Eyes). Though these films also have undercurrent fears driving them, Clown in a Cornfield is far more natural and petty: generational turnover. Quinn is our way into Kettle Springs, the guide that shows us that the town isn’t backwater by virtue of her being from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, or it being a small town in Missouri, but by the way things function within it. The adults have a tendency to look down on the kids, sparing no kind words or looks, even for new arrival Quinn, and, likewise, the children having little respect for the adults. The conflict between Quinn and her father isn’t like this. Their relationship is clearly close though struggling due to recent trauma and the move, but they are, nevertheless, presented as caring for each other and trying to be supportive. It’s the town that’s experiencing its schism, rolling to a boil well before Quinn arrives, she merely having the bad luck of stepping in right as things escalate (isn’t that always the way for Final Girls?). Smartly, the themes of the script aren’t handled as merely subtext with several examples of the adults being as petulant and thoughtless as the kids, the countless pranks being reason enough for the kids to be distrusted, and the barrage of sneering looks and derision by the adults being reason enough not to take the adults seriously. In the real world, the fight for control occurs with each new generation, though the fight for equity often dies out the moment that the new generation finishes usurping their elders, only for their own progeny to start taking interest in taking over. It turns into a war over values and belief systems that can be as simple as maintaining the survival of old businesses to keep a company town afloat (say, like a corn syrup factory) or as complex as what small town values mean in 2025. This is at the heart of Clown and it helps raise up the murders from plain ole’ body count to a symbol of the struggle for succession, especially as the enigmatic fog around Frendo lifts.
Don’t mistake this to mean that Clown is somehow more intense than Craig’s other projects. It’s got the same cheekiness that one expects from Tucker and Dale or Little Evil with the levity helping to ease some of the trauma (the characters’ and our own) through this adventure. It can be as simple as a fake-out provided by one of pranks the central group Quinn meets, or, as show in the trailer, a gag involving Quinn and two other girls covering each other’s mouths so as not to be noticed by Frendo. It’s a delicate sequence requiring the right timing of each actor in concert with camera movement as the panic of one girl sets off someone covering their mouth, the camera slowly panning to show it happening again, but with a different hand over another mouth, until only Quinn is left — or is she? It’s in this way that distinguishing real murder from pranks is as difficult for the audience as it is for the characters, a choice which creates an interesting push-pull of tension so that we, like the characters, don’t know if we should be wigging out or playing it cool. To help, though, one need only notice a small and clever trick by cinematographer Brian Pearson (Final Destination 5; Insidious: Chapter 3) who specifically adjusts the viewing perspective to center whomever is in frame, giving the four corners a darkness and the center the sense of a circle of attention. It’s as though the whole world of Clown narrows to the people on screen so that, despite the full frame picture, everything looks tighter, more condensed, and, therefore, as if the subject(s) is/are in danger well before anything signaling the arrival of Frendo appears. For those just looking to fulfill their bloodlust, there are several cool kills, many of which are played for laughs either through setup or execution. It doesn’t make them hurt any less for the characters, but it does take some of the edge off for the audience.
Clown in a Cornfield can be enjoyed either as a straight-forward slasher or as something deeper, which is a credit to both parts of the creation team (Cesare as originator and Craig/Blanchard as adaptors) and the cast. Everyone knows what kind of movie this is and they make it work. If there’s a complaint, it’s that the brisk 96-minute runtime is only felt in the final scenes of the film which feel rushed in a way that makes one think that there was more to be included but is left to inference. This, combined with some fairly rote elements that are standard for this sort of horror experience, reduce the whole, but not so much as for it to be unenjoyable or worth a revisit, though that’s largely due to the fun twists this film makes as it leans into audience expectations before giving us something else. That’s what makes Clown fun as a ride; Craig plays with our expectations, often teasing us one way before going another. One thing is certain, though: don’t fuck with Frendo.
Screening during SXSW 2025.
In theaters May 9th, 2025.
For more information, head to the official SXSW Clown in a Cornfield webpage.
Final Score: 4 out of 5.
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Categories: In Theaters, Reviews
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