It starts with a flickering screen. You know that specific hum of a CRT television set from the nineties? That low-frequency buzz that feels like it’s vibrating inside your skull? That is the heartbeat of Jane Schoenbrun’s I Saw the TV Glow. It isn't just a movie. Honestly, calling it a "movie" feels a bit reductive, like calling a tidal wave a splash. It is a sensory experience that captures a very specific, very painful kind of nostalgia—the kind that hurts because it reminds you of a version of yourself you buried alive.
Justice Smith plays Owen. He’s quiet. He’s awkward. He’s the kind of kid who looks like he’s trying to disappear into the drywall of his own suburban home. Then he meets Maddy, played by Brigette Lundy-Paine, who is reading an episode guide for a show called The Pink Opaque. It’s a cheap, Saturday night YA horror show about two girls, Isabel and Tara, who fight monsters via a psychic connection. But for Owen and Maddy, it isn't cheap. It's realer than the world they’re actually standing in.
If you grew up obsessed with Buffy the Vampire Slayer or The X-Files, you get it. You remember how those shows felt like a lifeline. But I Saw the TV Glow takes that relatability and twists it into something deeply unsettling. It’s about the terror of realizing your life is a copy of a copy, and the "real" you is trapped behind the glass.
The Pink Opaque and the Horror of the Suburbs
The suburbs in this film look like a neon-soaked funeral home. Schoenbrun uses these incredible, saturated purples and pinks that shouldn't be scary, yet somehow they make your skin crawl. It’s that eerie feeling of a 2:00 AM infomercial. Everything is too quiet. Everything is too still.
Owen’s life is defined by what he’s allowed to do. His father, a menacing but mostly silent presence, represents the crushing weight of "normalcy." When Owen finally sees The Pink Opaque, it’s like a circuit breaker flips in his brain. The show features a villain named Mr. Melancholy—a moon-faced monster who harvests "luna juice" from the protagonists. It sounds campy. It looks like a prop from a 1994 Nickelodeon set. But in the context of the film, Mr. Melancholy is the personification of depression, of the soul-sucking reality of living a life that isn't yours.
Maddy is the one who sees it first. She’s older, sharper, and more desperate. She realizes that the show isn't just a show. She tells Owen, "You’re not Owen. You’re Isabel." She’s talking about the character in the TV. It’s a metaphor for the trans experience, sure, but it’s also a universal scream for anyone who has ever felt like they are wearing a costume of a human being.
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The pacing here is weird. It’s slow. Then it’s frantic. It’s like a dream where you’re running through molasses.
Why the Ending is Ruining People’s Lives (In a Good Way)
People are talking about the ending of I Saw the TV Glow because it refuses to give you the "Hollywood" moment. There is no triumphant transformation. No magical girl sequence where the hero finds their true self and saves the day. Instead, we see the consequences of waiting too long.
There is a scene near the end—no spoilers, but let’s talk about the grocery store—that is one of the most harrowing things put to film in the last decade. It’s just Owen, much older, apologizing for existing. He’s screaming internally while the world around him continues to pick out cereal boxes. It’s a panic attack captured in 35mm.
The film suggests that the "monsters" aren't the scary things under the bed. The monster is the clock. The monster is the fact that you can live an entire, 70-year life without ever actually waking up. That’s why the movie stays with you. It’s a clock ticking in a quiet room. It asks: How much time do you have left before you’re just a ghost in your own body?
The Soundtrack and the Aesthetic
We have to talk about the music. Alex G handled the score, and it’s haunting. It sounds like a memory you can’t quite place. Then you have the live performances at "The Bronze" style club in the film—Caroline Polachek, King Woman, and others. The music isn't just background noise; it’s part of the world-building. It grounds the surrealism in a tangible, 90s-alt-rock grit.
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- Lush Cinematography: Eric Yue shot this on film, and you can tell. The grain is tactile.
- Practical Effects: The monsters in The Pink Opaque look like they were made in a garage, which makes them feel more authentic to the era than any CGI ever could.
- The Colors: Green and purple. Always green and purple. The colors of a bruise.
The Trans Allegory and Universal Alienation
Jane Schoenbrun has been very open about how their own transition informed the script. You can feel that raw, bleeding honesty in every frame. The movie captures the "egg" experience—that period before you realize why you feel so wrong in your own skin.
But even if you aren't trans, the film hits a nerve. It’s about the "vibe shift" of growing up. Do you remember the things you loved as a kid? If you went back and watched them now, would they be the same? Or would they be cheap, poorly acted, and disappointing? I Saw the TV Glow plays with this idea of "media as a mirror." When Owen rewatches The Pink Opaque as an adult, it looks terrible. It looks fake. Is that because the show changed, or because Owen died inside and can no longer see the magic?
It’s a brutal question. Honestly, it’s a question that makes a lot of people uncomfortable. That’s why some people hate this movie. It’s "boring" or "too weird" because it doesn't follow the rules of a standard horror flick. There are no jump scares. There’s just the slow, creeping realization that you’re wasting your life.
Breaking Down the Symbolism
Let's get into the weeds a bit. The "Midnight Realm" in the show is presented as a place of eternal suffering, but the movie suggests that the real Midnight Realm is actually our reality—the mundane, the boring, the "normal."
The heart of the movie is a drawing on the sidewalk. A chalk door. It’s a child’s game, but it’s also a portal. The tragedy of the film is that some people are too afraid to step through the door because they’re worried about what the neighbors will think. They’d rather stay in the "Buried Alive" state than face the terrifying brightness of being themselves.
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How to Process What You Just Watched
If you’ve seen it and you’re feeling a bit hollow, you aren't alone. This is a movie that requires a "debrief" with friends. It’s the kind of cinema that demands you sit in the parking lot for twenty minutes before starting the car.
What makes I Saw the TV Glow a masterpiece is its refusal to blink. It looks at the most pathetic, suppressed parts of the human experience and says, "I see you." It doesn't judge Owen for being afraid. It just shows us the cost of that fear.
To truly appreciate the layers, you should:
- Watch it twice. The first time is for the vibe. The second time is to see the clues. Look at the background details in Owen's house. Look at how his mother's illness mirrors his own internal decay.
- Listen to the soundtrack separately. The lyrics to the songs aren't random. They are narrating the internal monologues that the characters are too scared to say out loud.
- Research the concept of "The Glow." It’s not just the TV screen. It’s the spark of life that we all have as kids before the world tries to snuff it out.
The movie ends on a note that is both devastating and strangely hopeful. It’s a reminder that as long as you’re still breathing, you can still cut yourself open and find the light inside. It’s messy. It’s painful. It involves a lot of screaming. But it’s better than being a ghost.
Next Steps for the Viewer:
If the themes of identity and media obsession resonated with you, your next step is to explore Jane Schoenbrun’s previous work, specifically We're All Going to the World's Fair. It deals with similar themes of internet culture and dysphoria but through a much more lo-fi, "found footage" lens. Additionally, revisit the television shows that shaped your own youth—not to wallow in nostalgia, but to see what they were actually trying to tell you about the world before you grew up and stopped listening.