Photosensitivity Warning: Several sequences in Mum, I’m Alien Pregnant feature flashing or sudden bursts of light. This may prove triggering for photosensitive individuals.
Children are parasites. Yes, you read that correctly. After the sperm and egg connect and a zygote is formed, the resulting fetus requires a host in order to survive before it’s ready to emerge into the world. By definition, this is a parasite and the experience as a host can be, for some, quite traumatic. Because of this, there are countless horror stories that borrow from a person’s transition from autocratic individualism into subservience that can last a minimum of 18 years. Adding their take on the journey to parenthood is filmmaking duo Thunderlips. Their feature film, Mum, I’m Alien Pregnant, is based on a 2024 short of the same title and is having its world premiere in the Midnight section of Sundance Film Festival 2026. Creating humor and horror by exaggerating the truth, Mum, I’m Alien Pregnant is goopy, gory, and gunky — all the things that folks don’t talk about regarding pregnancy and the ways in which agency is often revoked from the pregnant by the sheer act of taking on a parasite.
L-R: Yvette Parsons, Hannah Lynch and Jonny Brugh appear in MUM, I’M ALIEN PREGNANT by THUNDERLIPS, an official selection of the 2026 Sundance Film Festival. Courtesy of Sundance Institute | photo by Frances Carter.
Young adult Mary (Hannah Lynch) spends her days relaxing and nights watching animated alien porn, which would be great if not for the frequent intrusions of her mother, Cynthia (Yvette Parson), with whom she still lives. One night, while doing her laundry, an accidental meeting results in Mary’s sudden and unintentional pregnancy by alien seed that’s growing rapidly and transforming her body. Desperate to get rid of it, Mary must contend with unbothered and unhelpful medical professionals, a milquetoast soon-to-be-father, and societal conventions which treat every pregnancy as a holy miracle regardless of context as she tries to figure out how to get it out and get back to the life she prefers.
The whole of Alien Pregnant is absolutely wild for a number of reasons that include, but are not limited to, its unabashed acceptance of body and sex positivity, use of irony and/or radical acceptance of the absurd, and the presentation of the transformative experience of being pregnant. Speaking solely as someone who has witnessed their partner go through it twice, there’s an enormous vein of truth that courses (even pulses) through the film, which makes one wonder how directing/writing duo Thunderlips (made up of Jordan Mark Windsor (Mum, I’m Alien Pregnant) and Sean Wallace (Mum, I’m Alien Pregnant; Glare)), two dudes, could nail so many elements of what it’s like for a person to become so quickly dismissed or ignored, their entire autonomy replaced for the fetus. The answer is in the press notes for the film in which producer Alix Whittaker (Stray; Mum, I’m Alien Pregnant) shares that Alien Pregnant is inspired by their experience with Windsor in having a baby. While so many focus on the concept of “miracle” as it relates the biological act of pregnancy, there’s real horror to be had in the way that a person’s body is transformed through the process in ways that are expected but still frequently surreal. Using the lens of consensual sexual activity and nonconsensual exposure to bodily fluids, the initial horror (and comedy) comes from the catalyst and all that follows is born (heh) from it. Employing extraterrestrial narrative elements empowers Thunderlips to showcase the expected nine-to-ten-month gestational transition over days so that changes to diet (favorites become enemies), breasts (tenderness/sensitivity/growth), strength, and all the things that occur to a host when developing a fetus are all presented with a body horror spin. Regardless of what someone thinks about the reproductive process, there’s no denying that changes occur and they do so over time so as to reduce the likelihood of burning out the host while ensuring the longevity of the fetus. The implementation of body horror removes all of that. It doesn’t care about agency, approvals, traditions, or care. It wants transformation in order to bring forth something new and it wants it now.
Body horror is unsettling for the way we observe the host transmute before us, but Thunderlips doesn’t just rely on makeup, prosthetics, special efforts, and production design to unsettle. They do this by placing Mary in a variety of situations wherein the fact that she’s alien pregnant is almost always treated as unimportant relative to the fact that she *is* pregnant. It doesn’t matter how amplified she gets in her rejection of her current status, most (whether it’s her own mother or medical professionals) are fairly blasé, not exactly gaslighting Mary but certainly devaluing her interests and desires in favor of the fetus. Excreted a thick goo from her vaginal area within hours of exposure? Just a bacterial matter. Vomiting torrents of green slime? Yeah, it’s hard to keep food down in the first trimester. Make the electrical grid falter as you scream in rage at the absence of medical care? Some mothers do find themselves with the odd, strange side effect when pregnant, but it usually passes. The audience may laugh with each nonchalant reaction, the use of dry humor a keystone of New Zealander sensibilities, yet it only further highlights the removal of autonomy from Mary, the transformation she undergoes ignored as typical instead of (a) severally atypical and (b) unwanted.
To the film’s credit, it walks a remarkable line of horror and comedy while never losing sight of its characters. Not only does Lynch’s (returning from the short to star here) performance ensures that we stand by her side, the beacon of absolute truth in a wide swath of insanity, but it does so without diminishing who Mary is or what Mary wants. This isn’t a film about motherhood in the modern era so much as personhood, which means that it uses the socially-underdeveloped Boo (Arlo Green), the sperm donor, to highlight the social hypocrisy that child birth and rearing falls to the mother and rarely flinches to make Boo the butt of jokes where possible (some landing with greater hilarity when not aimed entirely at personal humiliation). It never once makes us question Mary’s desire to abort at every chance; rather, we cringe at each attempt due to their escalating ridiculousness and endangerment to herself all while hoping she’s successful (for her sake). It also makes sure to weaponize social expectations when it matters most and points them in the proper direction because, damn it, making babies (intentionally or not) should be fun for consenting adults, but the responsibility is real and far too often viewed as one-sided.
THUNDERLIPS, directors of MUM, I’M ALIEN PREGNANT, an official selection of the 2026 Sundance Film Festival. Courtesy of Sundance Institute | photo by Frances Carter.
Mum, I’m Alien Pregnant is not likely going to convince anyone to get pregnant, but it will have everyone who has ever been or known someone to be pregnant laughing even amid the discomfort. There is so much accuracy in the way that people respond to someone who is pregnant (medical professionals and laypeople), the way that the natural presentation of pregnancy can make someone feel at a loss of control in their own body, and how being pregnant can consume someone whole. For those who work to become pregnant, it’s a joy when it succeeds. It can feel like a miracle, if only because it’s not as easy for all to accomplish. But it does bring with it some truly unnerving moments, all of which are beautifully weaponized by Thunderlips and Lynch.
Screening during Sundance Film Festival 2026.
For more information, head to the official Sundance Film Festival Mum, I’m Alien Pregnant webpage.
Final Score: 4 out of 5.
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Categories: In Theaters, Reviews
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