Clown In A Cornfield Review (2025)

I didn’t walk into Clown in a Cornfield expecting to feel like I’d been dropkicked straight into the rotting guts of small-town America, but here we are. This thing hits like a 3-day bender on Red Bull and fertilizer fumes. It’s a slasher, yeah, but not the shiny Hollywood kind. It’s the kind that smells like gasoline, dried blood, and the desperate sweat of a town that gave up on itself twenty years ago.

Kettle Springs, that’s the sad little speck of a town where this mess unfolds. They used to have pride back when factory jobs paid the bills and everyone smiled through their teeth at Sunday service. Now it’s just dust, broken dreams, and a clown mascot named Frendo that nobody gives a shit about anymore. But ol’ Frendo, he’s not taking retirement quietly. No sir, this bastard comes back to slice, dice, and cleanse the corn-fed sinners one screaming teen at a time.

It’s got that classic slasher DNA, kids getting picked off for being loud, horny, or alive, but there’s something nastier festering under the surface. Every kill feels like a punchline to a joke about how far gone we are as a species. The blood isn’t there to shock, it’s there to remind you that this place has been bleeding for years.

The teens are exactly what they should be - smartasses who think they’ve outgrown the rusted-out ghost town that they live in. And maybe they have. But when the killing starts, they’re not running from some random psycho, they’re running from the entire ideology that built the town. The clown’s just the blade attached to it.

The violence is unrelenting, beautiful and glorious. It doesn’t dance around with slow buildups or ironic detachment. When Frendo gets going, it’s chaotic, loud, messy, and cathartic. You can almost taste the blood and corn dust in the air. The kills are mean, the pacing’s relentless, and it all feels like a middle finger to nostalgia, a scream in the face of “make small towns great again” delusion.

In the end, I wasn’t rooting for survival. I was rooting for obliteration. Clown in a Cornfield isn’t just Horror; it’s a grimy reflection of a country choking on its own traditions. It’s blood-soaked, fast, and mean as hell. Exactly the way I like it.

I didn’t waste any time purchasing the Blu-ray edition of this movie, I couldn’t get in the door at Wal-Mart fast enough to collect my prize – I’m going to get a shit ton of life out of this movie! For those who stream, the movie is on Shudder, but trust me, this one is going to be something you want on your movie shelf.

But yeah, the next time you’re driving through a dying town and see a faded billboard with a smiling clown, don’t look too long - he might still be waiting out there, in the dark, laughing his ass off with a machete…