I Saw the TV Glow: Don’t (Or Rather, Do) Trust Your First Impression

Trust me. 

At first, Jane Schoenburn’s I Saw the TV Glow (2024) may not seem like anything special, just another indie teen horror movie with paranormal activity against a backdrop of suburban ennui. In fact, for roughly the first third of your viewing experience, you may find yourself questioning its quality. 

You might question the casting, wondering, as I did, why Owen (Justice Smith) and Maddy (Brigette Lundy-Paine)—respectively played by 28 and 29-year-olds—clearly appear too old to be high schoolers. After all, this is A24 we’re dealing with, not a Netflix original. You might speculate whether there is even supposed to be chemistry between these two, because there is laughably little, despite scenes involving forbidden sleepovers and exchanges of episode tapes that might otherwise be rife with pubescent tension. And was that Phoebe Bridgers, performing in a random small-town bar? Yes, yes it was.

You might even question the plot, wondering about the goofy TV show that is the object of these characters’ intense fixation, a Goosbumps-esque anthology series with poor effects entitled The Pink Opaque. Why are our protagonists so inexplicably taken with this incredibly average piece of media? Their motivations are as unclear as the title, making certain lines of dialogue at first seem disarmingly corny, like this line from Maddy that is dripping with emo affect: “Sometimes The Pink Opaque feels more real than real life.” 

Admittedly, some confusing aspects become more compelling when read as metaphors for queer experiences: the certainty of Maddy, a lesbian who is socially ostracized at school, that staying in her small town any longer will literally kill her. Owen’s fear that there is simply nothing inside him, that he is somehow incapable of love. Their attachment to The Pink Opaque, which features two girls who share a special telekinetic bond with clear romantic undertones.

And yet, there is still something frustratingly off. Why is our main character Owen—whose perspective we are almost always bound to—so passionless, so profoundly passive? Owen’s interest in The Pink Opaque lacks the warm validation of representation that shows like Heartstoppper embody. He is strongly drawn to the show, yes, but his relationship with it seems almost clinical: a compulsion of sorts, one that Maddy shares. This lack of real development originally struck me as everything else did: as a flaw of writing or execution. About halfway through, I felt confused and ambivalent. 

Here is my advice to anyone who plans to watch this movie: stick with the feeling. Stick with the questions, the incredulity, hold it in your mind and embrace the dissonant feelings it elicits, because that is the true gateway into appreciating what this film has to offer. As you will come to find out when presented with all the information, you truly have been immersed in these characters the entire time: not just their perspectives, but their experiences. Chances are, you will experience the film as they experience the film’s events, and this disorienting unease will lead you to truly empathize with how out of place they truly are in the world they are forced to inhabit. 

Furthermore, Lundy-Paine and Smith really break free from both their melodramatic and lackluster deliveries, imbuing familiar and compelling emotion into outlandishly specific circumstances. Perhaps comical in other contexts, their skills render it deadly serious. Lundy-Paine shines in a passionate monologue, while Smith delivers a gut-punching portrayal of unfulfilled human existence. These later performances even recontextualize and justify their prior demeanors, mirroring the layered (or should I say, buried) parts of the narrative that come to be revealed.  

That feeling that something just isn’t quite right. Hard to shake, sometimes, isn’t it?

The plot of this film doesn’t just twist, it flips. It flips you upside down, leaving you questioning your entire orientation toward the film, and inside out, trying to reconcile a cognitive reality with the world of physical evidence. This film asks the question: what is the role of nostalgia, of mental illness, of all-consuming disillusionment, and how does this shape our reality? How does it sway our decisions? What is the cost, and what could be the reward, of so-called enlightenment? There are no easy decisions, no easy answers, and certainly no easy judgments, which means there is plenty to think about long after you leave the theater.

Set to be released this May, I Saw the TV Glow is the kind of horror movie that haunts your thoughts rather than just your senses. When it comes to lasting fear, audio-visual jumpscares have nothing on existential threats. What if I really was someone else? Present in the trailer, this question is not technically a spoiler, yet it speaks to the dissociative anxieties of many today, all those burdened with an inescapable dissatisfaction with everyday life. Maybe we are doomed to waste away in this malaise unless we do something truly drastic, and maybe that is the most horrifying prospect of all. Suffice it to say that Smith and Lundy-Paine flawlessly portray this dilemma—and its respective consequences.

I would recommend watching this movie with a friend or two, somebody to discuss your interpretations with afterwards. I had an hour-long debrief with my boyfriend following the screening: the themes, the ending, the symbolism, and what I thought I would do in Maddy and Owen’s situation—one of my favorite aspects of psychological horror to dissect.

What would you do? After embracing all the other questions that naturally arise during your viewing experience, come back to this one. The answer may just keep you up at night—but at least you’ll have the friendly glow of the television to keep you company.