I had titled my Zone Of Interest post "The best movie of the 2020s, so far" because it is my favorite movie of this decade. But that's not entirely true because I Saw The TV Glow is also my favorite movie of the decade. Depending on the day, it flips from one to the other and, no, I can't pick nor do I want to.
That said, some movies I watch and I'm immediately like "Yep" cuz we connected without interference (Zone, for one). Glow was a very different experience. Or, rather, experienceS; I watched it probably six times in its initial release on VOD. I liked it a lot the first time, felt about the same the second time, but the third I kinda wasn't sure...maybe I don't like it? I would sit and overthink it on my lunch breaks or menial tedium at work. Then I watched it a couple more times and had a fraught push/pull with it where I wondered why I felt such distance from it. There was clearly a pull for me but it wasn't hitting like it did those first two times due to some nebulous distortion.
But I watched it again after a very bad closing shift and it unzipped me. I wasn't just totally on its wavelength but the ending, for the first time, just destroyed me. In fact, the ending is the most contentious part because it really can go either way: hopeless or hopeful.
This is a horror movie about indecision; the scariest thing in the world is never quitting that shitty job and boxing yourself into a life you never wanted. You don't blink and there's a monster at the foot of your bed but you open your eyes and 20 years have gone by because you never took the leap—any leap—to change. The lore overall is almost impenetrable but I love it for that. Just like The Return: I'll never find my way out of its maze and I'll drop to my knees in despair if I ever do.
Jane Schoenbrun's pop-cultural diet has been so full of nutrients that her intertextual elements don't weigh her down; she's crafted the single-most relatable movie of this new century. Her devotion to authenticity of textures is only outmatched by her world-building; big and small she brings everything to life, on the page and in front of the camera. The '90s atmosphere is so real that, when the nostalgia goggles are yanked off, your skin hurts from the strap indentations. The soundtrack she curated mixes so well with her direction that my feelings on the movie aren't even complex: she is, purely and simply, a born filmmaker. It's literally just the "PURE CINEMA" Scorsese meme come to life.
Her most impressive filmmaking prowess comes during a scene of purely visual exposition: it's both a long take and a montage where the soundtrack and hand-drawn notes all mix into a fucking cinematic alchemy. The way she brings so much personality and and and and and, uhh, fucking charm and creativity to this sequence had AND HAS me in awe. Every time.
In fact, I threw it on while writing this because that's usually what I do when I make these posts, but...it's genuinely distracting. I'm just watching it instead of writing and that's all I want to do: stop writing and just fucking watch it.
That's part of why I hate writing about this movie: because every word feels too small. The way it affects me and how I get almost addicted to watching it and talking about it feels diminished with every letter I type. To call it "devastating," "creepy" and "fascinating" all feels accurate and cheap. It's like trying to take a picture of a breathtaking sunset but your phone camera just can't capture it the way you see it. You spend more time futzing with the settings than just appreciating what's right in front of your eyeballs.
Lynch referred to watching a movie as having a conversation with it and I Saw The TV Glow is, in my mind, never not talking to me.
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