No jerks, no blood, no monsters in the literal sense of the word. We’re All Going to the World’s Fair by Jane Schoenbrun is nevertheless described as a horror drama. What it is, but more the way ofAlice in Wonderland than in the manner, for example, of Blumhouse productions — think of the series of films Paranormal Activity or even to Unfriendedto which however reference is made directly or in form.
“Alice”, who is called Casey here (Anna Cobb, staggering in presence and in nuances, in this first appearance in front of a camera where she is magnificently directed), is, by her own admission, a great consumer of horror films . She now “wants to live one”. So she followed a metaphorical white rabbit down the internet’s burrow to join the community. creepypasta behind the World’s Fair Challenge (WFC).
Lonely, out of sorts in her skin and in her life, Casey is ready to welcome the promise of the group, that is to say the changes that will occur inside her body over the course of the challenges she will take up, film , share to. Like this boy convinced that a game of Tetris is being played inside him, or this girl who “plastifies” herself, or even this man swallowed by his computer, etc. Presented, in turn, in videos that are downloaded like so many offerings to members of the nocturnal community.
A big part of World’s Fair incidentally takes place at night, under minimal lighting or black light, in Casey’s wood-panelled bedroom seen through the computer camera. Anyway, there is very little interest in the sad, empty, cold suburb where the teenager lives. Even the snow is gray there, we see while following, camera on the shoulder, the young woman coated by the haunting and hypnotic music of Alex G.
Always alone, Casey, when she talks, it’s to her camera. And to “his” community, silent, within which is found this man (Michael L. Rogers) who takes the name of JLB and whose avatar is a ghoul with a grimacing smile. We think predatory. The answers about him will come. Or not. Or will diverge from the obvious. The dice are neither thrown nor stacked in this work which abandons the classic outline of the horror film.
But horror there is. The daily and poignant horror lived by a person who we feel locked up in himself, in this prison that is his life (the only vocal interaction of Casey which we will witness is with a man, his father possibly, who asks him to lower the volume), but also his body. This body she wants to change. That she believes in the process of change, she assures those who, like her, are doing or have done the WFC.
We can therefore only draw a parallel between the character whose unease and dysphoria we dully and painfully feel, and the one who created her: the trans and non-binary filmmaker Jane Schoenbrun, who wrote, directed and edited this microbudget feature presented last year at the Sundance Film Festival; and which clearly displays its cinematography belonging to the “Art team” (Team Art) because “Art matters” (Art Matters), could be read under his pen in a text published in MovieMaker.
His film speaks subtly and with sincerity of what many young people experience, addresses the heart and what throbs in us without seeking adrenaline rushes. For all this he will divide. Some will adhere to the proposal and like it. A lot. Others will remain indifferent to it. It’s a shame, but it doesn’t take anything away from them.