You ever get that itch?
Not the “should probably see a doctor” kind.
But the one where you want something gloriously dumb, gory, and absolutely unapologetic in its pursuit of fun?
Yeah. Here comes Clown in a Cornfield.
Cause sometimes you want a clown with a grudge and a combine harvester and not some prime hollywood masterpiece.
Not everything needs to be high concept.
Not every story needs to be a tortured maze of literary ambition.
Sometimes you need… cheese.
Sticky, neon orange, slasher movie grade cheese.
I want to see Clown in a Cornfield because it promises exactly that.
Kills you can cheer for.
Characters you can root for (or at least bet on in your group chat)
A villain so ridiculous and on the nose, it circles back around to genius.
A plot that’s basically “adults are mad, teens are madder, and somewhere in between, a clown is out for blood.”
Cause if you don’t. You get stuck.
You freeze up, overthinking, overengineering, turning your brain into a lukewarm bowl of mashed potatoes.
You forget that joy is allowed. Especially in horror. Which I know is probably the weirdest thing I’ve said.
Joy in horror.
But having a bit of cheese in a creative sense isn’t the enemy.
Cheese is the glue that holds the slasher sandwich together.
It’s the reason we remember the fun stories, not just the “worthy” ones.
So, yeah, I want to see Clown in a Cornfield. Not just for the blood and the banter.
Cause sometimes the best kind of art is the kind that makes you grin, groan, and fist pump at a well timed decapitation.
Stephen Walker
The silly review is over here if you’re interested
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Stephen Walker
Unit 146317
PO Box 7169
Poole
BH15 9EL
United Kingdom