Clown in a Cornfield (now streaming on VOD platforms like Amazon Prime Video) would really like its squeaky-honk shoes to haunt you. But it’s more likely to be honk-shoo, as in ZZZZZ, for horror aficionados who’ve grown weary of nudge-wink self-aware slasher-horror-coms whose tongues-in-cheeks can be seen from space. The movie is from the guy who directed Tucker and Dale vs. Evil (his name is Eli Craig), if that matters to you, and he adapts the 2020 young adult novel by Adam Cesare, but anyone concerned that it skews teenybopper and isn’t violent enough should rest assured that it earns its R rating. Not that that automatically makes the movie good, mind you.
The Gist: 1991. The girl peels off her not-quite-period-specific-but-close-enough Motley Crue “Dr. Feelgood” T-shirt and lures the guy into the cornfield for some somethin-something. And you know what happens to LUSTY TEENZ in these movies, right? Some stalker clown jumps out and pitchforks ’em real good. And in this case, it’s a literal clown, and the stalks are also literal. These are jokes! Please laugh. Now it’s NOW. And we learn this town with the murderclown is Kettle Springs, and it was a flourishing little burg until the local corn syrup factory burned down, shuttling it into economic distress. Yes, corn syrup. If the clown doesn’t get you the corn syrup will, right? Eventually. It’s bad for you, corn syrup. It’ll kill you, just slower than a maniac with sharp hardware. You know what’s made from corn syrup besides junk food? Right: Movie blood. That’s also a joke. This movie better not have any CGI blood, is what I’m saying. Hypocrisy will not be tolerated!
Anyway. A single dad and his 17-year-old daughter just moved to Kettle Springs. He’ll be the town doctor and she’ll be Jane Newgirl, until she marries the premise and changes her name to Jane Finalgirl. Her given name is Quinn Maybrook (Katie Douglas, Ginny and Georgia), and she wrinkles her nose at the smelly dump of a house her dad bought (there’s a dead raccoon in the chimney). Her first day of school is worse, though: Her teacher gives her detention because he’s an unreasonable pissant who doesn’t want to listen, just like the local cop and other local adults. Quinn’s instatrouble finds her falling in with the ne’er-do-wells who make internet horror videos in which the corn syrup mascot, a clown named Frendo, ceases being friendly and kills people by slicing them open and yanking their guts out and the like. It’s very intensely hyperlocal Kettle Springs content.
Thing is, the ne’er-do-wells really aren’t that bad. They’re just prankster types who like to have bonfires and do a little underage drinking. But they’re victims of injustice, scapegoats for everything bad that happens in town, the target of dismissive unlistening by the sheriff and other authority figures, and nobody mentions the PTA but one assumes they’re the nastiest of the bunch. Quinn takes a liking to the quasi-leader of the not-always-ne’er-do-wells, Cole (Carson MacCormac), whose grandfather started the corn syrup company. It sure seems inevitable that this group of teenz is doomed to meet the business end of Frendo’s chainsaw and/or big knife and/or crossbow bolts, doesn’t it? Just as inevitable as they’ll recite dialogue like, “It’s like we’re in some awful ’80s slasher horror movie!” Please laugh?
What Movies Will It Remind You Of?: The townsfolk are evolved from those in Footloose, the clown is the intellectually deficient offspring of Pennywise from It and the tone is desperate shades of Scream. Fear Street fans (note: I am not one of them) may find something of interest here.
Performance Worth Watching: Douglas has some Kaitlyn Dever in her screen presence, but this movie isn’t interested in her character beyond a few roughly sketched traits. Here’s hoping she’ll land a Booksmart soon.
Memorable Dialogue: The movie reviews itself very harshly via a bit of dialogue that you may just utter yourself before pressing play on this movie: “I’m not crawling through a shit pipe!”
Sex and Skin: None.
Our Take: I can’t shake how the most recent Fear Street (Prom Queen) was an absolute waste of time. And now we face down the similarly blah Clown in a Cornfield, which is only a partial waste, offering approximately 2.7 decent kills in a 96-minute movie. Is that worth it for you? Horror movie diehards of the type who’ll watch anything with a butcher knife and a smidge of rubber prosthetics – you know who you are – have sat through more for less. I was grateful it was less Terrifier (brutal for its own sake) and more Thanksgiving (spoofy, good kills), but bummed that Killer Klowns from Outer Space (classic e-z-cheez; they don’t make ’em like this anymore) wasn’t quite on the reference agenda.
I’m splitting hairs here, and I acknowledge it’s a ridiculous exercise. But this is the state of things. We have movies called Clown in a Cornfield, Cocaine Bear and Snakes on a Plane, movies that exist only because of the marketability of their ridiculous titles in the internet age, and haven’t come close to living up to them. You may recall the “2016 clown sightings” (the phenomenon has its own Wikipedia page) that seemed to exist solely to be viral content, and this movie’s release nine years after the fact is eight years and 11 months too late. Or an attempt to revive the trend, which would be fine if the revival showed any inspiration, originality or compelling ideas. Which it doesn’t. You honk its nose and no sound comes out other than a sad exhalation of stale air.
Reader, I was bored. The screenplay consists of random junk slapped together: smalltown tropes and stereotypes, generic teen angst, an X vs. Z generational battle, etc., all presented with a satirical elbow-in-the-ribs so slight, it barely exists. A couple, possibly a few, but definitely not a bunch, of the kills jolt us from our somnambulance briefly before the movie tries to make us laugh about how Teens These Days can’t drive a stickshift or dial a rotary phone. I liked the very capable Douglas as a lead, and Craig’s direction is slick and efficient. But Cornfield is destined to be a footnote of a footnote in the slasher pantheon.
Our Call: Nothing new to see here. Call it Clown in a Shopwornfield and SKIP IT.
John Serba is a freelance writer and film critic based in Grand Rapids, Michigan.