Clown in a Cornfield (2025) Review

More Horror
5 hours ago
2 min read

Slashers have always thrived on corn syrup and clichés, but every now and then one pops up that feels like a welcome throwback rather than a tired rerun.

Clown in a Cornfield, based on Adam Cesare’s novel, doesn’t reinvent the killer-in-a-mask wheel, but it gives it a fresh spin through sharp aesthetics, a committed lead, and just enough self-awareness to make the ride worth taking.

The story follows Quinn Maybrook (Katie Douglas) and her father as they relocate to the small town of Kettle Springs, Missouri, a community still rotting from the ashes of its syrup factory. Like all good horror towns, it’s got secrets buried in the fields and an old mascot, Frendo the Clown, who’s gone from local sideshow to blood-spattered boogeyman. What begins as teenage hijinks quickly unravels into a night of carnage where everyone’s a suspect and nobody’s safe once the masks go on.

Katie Douglas shoulders the film with swagger and heart, delivering a performance that immediately recalls a younger Elliot Page in Juno—all confidence, sarcasm, and raw vulnerability. In a genre that often treats final girls like plot furniture, Douglas feels flesh-and-blood. The supporting cast is solid too, leaning into the small-town teen archetypes without sinking into parody.

Director Brett Simmons bathes the film in glossy dread. The cinematography is slick, the cornfields appropriately ominous, and the parade-turned-bloodbath sequences feel lifted from a fever dream midway between Americana and nightmare. The clowns themselves are genuinely unnerving, their masks frozen in grotesque cheer. Still, a lingering question nags, why didn't anyone remove the clown masks sooner? However, the answer doesn’t matter much when the imagery is this strong.

The score deserves its own nod; it’s a love letter to horror history, peppered with motifs that echo Friday the 13th and other classic slashers. It doesn’t just score the kills; it winks at the audience, daring you to catch its sly homages while you squirm.

For all its craft, the final act wobbles. The third-act reveal feels more obligatory than explosive, less of a kick to the nuts and more of a shrug. Maybe that’s the price of being a horror lifer, you’ve seen too many cornfield escapades and teenage massacres to be surprised by another. It’s not bad, just anticlimactic, and it leaves the film ending with a whisper instead of a scream.

Clown in a Cornfield is a stylish slice of small-town terror, a film that knows exactly what kind of blood-spattered playground it’s in. It’s derivative, sure, but derivative done well. Douglas elevates the material, the aesthetics are spot-on, and the score makes genre fans grin like maniacs. It may not be the next Halloween, but it’s a hell of a fun night at the movies, especially if you’ve got a soft spot for slashers with hay in their teeth.

Rating: 3.5 out of 5 Blood Drips