“And I need you now tonight
And I need you more than ever
And if you only hold me tight
We’ll be holding on forever
And we’ll only be making it right
‘Cause we’ll never be wrong
Together, we can take it to the end of the line
Your love is like a shadow on me all of the time (All of the time)
I don’t know what to do and I’m always in the dark
We’re living in a powder keg and giving off sparks
I really need you tonight
Forever’s gonna start tonight”– “Total Eclipse of the Heart” by Bonnie Tyler
Love is an incredible thing — complex and ever-changing, but an incredible thing. Expressed one way, it can raise someone up, become a propulsive energy that supports and uplifts someone through their life. Expressed another, it can punish, pummel, and extinguish any sense of self. One thing is certain, love can burn brightly between people and, whether requited or not, can consume the world with its heat. For her feature debut, director/co-writer Corrin Evans (Death is a Soft Limit) teams with actor/co-writer Lily Cowles (Roswell, New Mexico) for Corpus, having its world premiere in the Cheval Noir section of Fantasia International Film Festival 2026. It’s a horror thriller set in a late 1990s summer, where writhing bodies are a nightly tithe for youth and love yearns to persist forever. Feeling inspired by the works of author Anne Rice and the filmography of Larry Fessenden (Trauma, or Monsters All), Corpus is a sweltering tale of longing and desire, of captured moments frozen in gelatin and crystals, and the quest for everlasting love.
June, 1998, New York — Sayo (Jef Wahlberg) works as both a photographer, capturing the underground scene, and as a drug-dealer, for that same scene. While he spends his nights watching others cavort, hook-up, and otherwise live inside a moment, he records them, forever watching the connection he longs for happen for others, even if only for one drug-induced night. One evening, as he and childhood friend Ross (Michael Vlamis) enjoy their usual nightly festivities, the third in their close-knit group and a professional model, Vince (Brodie Townsend), appears with an invitation for them both to join him at a party two hours out of town held by acclaimed photographer Billie (Lily Cowles). Vince thinks it’ll be a great networking opportunity for his friend, but Sayo enjoys his life as it is. After some convincing, less-so for Ross who loves a good party, the three head out of town, unaware of just how much their lives will change in one night.
Corpus is simultaneously understated and transparent in its exploration of love. If one ascribes to the notion of “Love is Love,” then one understands that the body is merely the vessel for the soul. While someone might be attracted to a physical form, love cannot persist carnally beyond the length of a candle’s flame because all things decay except the soul. Consider the title of Evans’s tale, which uses a dead language to identify itself — “body.” This film is a body, a shell, a construct to explore the toxic ways in which love can fill us, take hold, and, despite our best efforts, pull us toward situations we shouldn’t be in. Like a harbinger, Evans uses ‘90s hits “Open Up” by Leftfield and “Mr. Vain” by Culture Beat — one which was recognized in the techno scene (or by those who spun the Hackers soundtrack (and still do)) and the other which hit #1 several times in several countries in the mid-90s — songs which either speak of a frustrated desire to be accepted by something that won’t love it back or of a selfish lover. The latter is an odd party song in that the groove gets you moving, but the lyrics speak of longing that the singer can’t help but return each time Mr. Vain appears. There’s an awareness of their subjugation, a choice that they keep making, even if they don’t want to. Within Corpus, this is represented by Sayo who exists within a limbo wherein he can observe people embracing, kissing, fondling, and generally connecting but is denied the one thing he wants. It’s a fascinating decision to couple Sayo’s professional work as a photographer with that of a drug dealer because it implies that the only way he can get people to be excited to see him, to engage him, to long for him, is to be the source of their addiction. The thing he wants is so far away (or is being withheld from him through the toying way that Vince behaves) but he can make others want him, even if just a facsimile. Sayo, however, seems well-aware that it is, though, making him trapped by his own machinations, thereby making the proposal by Vince to accompany him to a party enticing. His drug of choice is before him and he so desperately wants to taste it on his tongue. “Open Up,” indeed.
Brodie Townsend as Vince in CORPUS. Photo courtesy of Fantasia International Film Festival.
Adding to the sense of distortion is an intriguing visual style utilized whenever Sayo takes a photo. It’s more apparent in the club scene than in other moments, but the work of Evans as editor, Charlie Cole (Death is a Soft Limit) as cinematographer, and Jamison Goei (Companion; The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent) as special effects artist, add a layer of distorted reality that supports the thematic notion of the body as a vessel. Each time Sayo clicks his shutter button, a sequence begins in which the camera light flashes and the space around the subjects, already appearing as if swirling in an amber viscous solution, slow down and hold. The moments, the people, are immortalized in the moment — the color both sensational and decadent, but also indicative of preservation. Once processed, the resultant photos contain the moment until such time as they are destroyed, likely to live on well-past the subjects. In one view, these photos contain the essence of the person for they will never look like this again, no matter how they try to cling to the moment, even as their spirit may remain. Considering where co-writers Evans and Cowles take their characters, the layering of intention through the symbolic nature of photography, of drug-ingestion, and of individuals striving to contain their love for as long as possible blends far better than one might presume, turning something hyperreal into a grounded tale wherein such needs are a cautionary tale for unhealthy habits.
One thing that may put off some audiences is that the film primarily focuses on the relationship of Sayo, Vince, and Ross and provides very little about the mysterious Billie. From the cold open, we know that there’s something off-putting about the accomplished photographer and the script by Evans and Cowles plays within the space of expectation (power used to abuse others); however, very little is given, even in exposition, to create a full form of Billie. This isn’t to say that the audience can’t divine a full picture of the character, especially through Cowles’s purposeful performance wherein every look and movement has design and intention. It’s just that any explanation is, frankly, less important to the narrative than what Billie represents to the theme of love eternal, of life beyond the vessel.
Evans’s directorial debut is a sly mixture of style with substance, which uses the sensuality of being alive and the desire for connection to craft a warning for yearning. One too often thinks of yearning as something childish, something romantic, or something entirely sexual; however, yearning without reciprocity is the first step to heartbreak for what cannot be. In turn, heartbreak transforms to bile and resentment, gurgling below the surface. Being desired is, itself, intoxicating and contains its own perils, but, for the one yearning without it being returned, it can be a slow death at the hand of another from another who holds a curing tonic they have to be willing to provide. In the end, Corpus asks us which is better: to love the vessel or the spirit? And, if one can choose, can one handle the yearning that befalls us upon denial or, worse yet, to exist knowing they would give you everything if they could? Smartly, it appears Evans provides less of a concrete reply in their conclusion, but a vibe that creates a Rorschach for the audience to discern for themselves.
Screening during Fantasia International Film Festival 2026.
For more information, head to the official Fantasia International Film Festival Corpus webpage.
Final Score: 4 out of 5.
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Categories: In Theaters, Reviews
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