You’re sitting in a dark room. The only light comes from a laptop screen, casting a sickly blue glow over everything. On the screen, a teenager is staring back at you, whispering to a camera about a ritual they just performed. It feels private. It feels like you shouldn’t be watching, but you can’t look away because it feels too real. This is the vibe of Jane Schoenbrun’s 2021 film, and honestly, We're All Going to the World's Fair is one of the most polarizing, uncomfortable, and deeply accurate depictions of the internet ever put to film.
It’s not a jump-scare movie. Don't go into it expecting a ghost to pop out of a closet. Instead, it’s a slow-burn exploration of "creepypasta" culture, loneliness, and the weird ways we try to find ourselves through digital avatars.
What Actually Happens in We're All Going to the World's Fair?
The story follows Casey, played by Anna Cobb in a debut performance that is frankly staggering. Casey is a lonely teen living in a generic American suburb. She decides to take the "World's Fair Challenge," an online role-playing game that’s part urban legend, part viral stunt. You poke your finger with a needle, smear blood on the screen, and watch a strobe-light video. Then, you wait for the "changes" to happen.
Casey starts documenting her journey. She films herself sleeping. She films herself dancing to upbeat pop music until she enters a trance-like state. She films herself screaming. It’s a performance. Or is it? That’s the central tension. We watch her through the lens of her own webcam, which makes us feel like we're just another anonymous lurker on her channel.
Eventually, she’s contacted by a mysterious figure known only as "JLB." This guy claims to see things in her videos that she doesn't notice. He warns her she’s in danger. But JLB isn't some heroic figure; he’s a middle-aged man living in a big house, surrounded by his own digital ghosts. The relationship between the two is deeply unsettling, not necessarily because of overt predatory behavior, but because of the sheer emptiness of their connection.
The Reality of Creepypasta Culture
If you spent any time on the internet in the early 2010s, you know what creepypasta is. Think Slender Man or the Backrooms. We're All Going to the World's Fair captures that specific era of the internet where the line between fiction and reality gets blurry. People commit to the bit. They stay in character.
The film uses real-world logic of "Alternative Reality Games" (ARGs). In these communities, there’s an unspoken rule: "This is All Real" (TIAR). You don't break character. You treat the monster like it’s actually under your bed. Casey leans into this hard because her real life seems so devoid of meaning. She wants to be changed by the game because being a monster is more interesting than being a lonely kid in a quiet house.
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Why the Ending Polarized Everyone
People hated the ending. Or they loved it. There’s almost no middle ground.
Without spoiling the minute details, the movie doesn't give you a traditional climax. There’s no final boss. There’s no big reveal that the World’s Fair is a literal portal to hell. Instead, the film pulls back the curtain on the medium itself. It forces us to confront the fact that we've been watching a sad, isolated girl perform for an audience that doesn't really exist, while being "mentored" by a man who is arguably just as lost as she is.
Schoenbrun, who has since directed I Saw the TV Glow, has talked extensively about how this film is a trans allegory. Casey’s desire to "change" her body through the World's Fair challenge is a metaphor for the discomfort of living in the wrong skin. When you view the film through that lens, the horror isn't about ghosts—it's about the terror of being seen for who you really are, or worse, not being seen at all.
The Lo-Fi Aesthetic is the Point
The movie looks like it was shot on a consumer-grade camera. It was. It uses Skype-style video calls and grainy YouTube uploads.
This DIY aesthetic is crucial. It’s what makes the film feel like a "found footage" artifact rather than a Hollywood production. Most horror movies about the internet (like Unfriended) feel like they were written by people who don't actually use the internet. They get the UI wrong. They get the slang wrong. We're All Going to the World's Fair gets it right. It understands the specific layout of a YouTube comment section and the weird, grainy texture of a video recorded at 3:00 AM.
Is JLB a Villain?
This is the big question. JLB is a man in his 40s or 50s. He reaches out to a teenager. In any other movie, he’s a "stranger danger" trope.
But Schoenbrun does something more complex here. JLB is pathetic. He’s wealthy but alone. He spends his nights watching videos of children pretending to be monsters because it’s the only thing that makes him feel a spark of imagination. He’s not necessarily looking to physically hurt Casey; he’s looking for a co-conspirator in his delusions. He wants the game to be real as much as she does. Their "bond" is a tragedy of two people using the internet to avoid their own reflections.
It’s uncomfortable to watch. You want Casey to turn off the computer. You want her to go outside. But you also realize that for Casey, there is nothing outside. The digital world is the only place where she has agency.
Why You Should Re-watch It
If you watched this and thought "nothing happened," you might want to give it another shot with a different perspective.
- Watch the background details: Look at Casey’s room. It tells a story of a life being slowly erased.
- Listen to the sound design: Alex G provided the score, and it’s haunting. It’s acoustic and melancholic, contrasting perfectly with the cold, digital visuals.
- Pay attention to the "other" videos: The film inserts clips of other people doing the World's Fair challenge. These aren't just filler; they show how the "myth" grows through collective storytelling.
Actionable Takeaways for Fans of the Genre
If the vibes of We're All Going to the World's Fair resonated with you, there are a few ways to dive deeper into this specific sub-genre of "Analog" or "Digital" horror.
- Explore the "I Saw the TV Glow" Connection: This is Jane Schoenbrun’s follow-up film. It deals with similar themes of media obsession and identity but with a much higher budget and a neon-soaked 90s aesthetic.
- Research Real ARGs: Look up the history of Marble Hornets or The Sun Vanished. These real-world internet projects paved the way for the storytelling style used in the movie.
- Check out the soundtrack: Alex G’s score is available on most streaming platforms. It’s great for late-night drives or staring at walls.
- Look for "Trans-coded" Horror: Read interviews with Schoenbrun about their experience as a non-binary filmmaker. It adds a massive layer of depth to Casey’s "transformation" that you might miss on a first watch.
The movie is a Rorschach test. What you see in it says more about your relationship with your phone than it does about the film itself. It’s a quiet, lonely, terrifying masterpiece that reminds us that the scariest thing on the internet isn't a monster—it’s the person staring back at us through the webcam.
To truly appreciate the film, watch it alone. In the dark. On a laptop. That is the way it was meant to be experienced. It’s not just a movie; it’s an invitation to the fair. And once you’ve gone, you can’t really come back the same.