I Saw The Tv Glow: You're Not Invisible and There's Still Time

I Saw the TV Glow

Director: Jane Schoenburn Written by: Jane Schoenburn Cast: Justice Smith, Jack Haven, Ian Foreman

I Saw The TV Glow: You’re not Invisible and There’s Still Time

2024 was an iconic year for horror: The Substance, Nosferatu and Smile 2 all became legendary with their notion towards an afflicted woman, it’s no wonder that Jane Schoeburns ‘I Saw the TV Glow’ flew under the radar, but it did, and it shouldn’t have—it’s too important of a film, one that isn’t horror in the traditional sense, there is gore here, we have no slashers nor’ protaganist literally fighting for their lives.

We are given a visually stunning exploration into the psyche of someone who has a deep-seated fear about accepting who they are, a notion that resonates with so many of us as we struggle with our identity versus the identity societal norms give us.

‘I Saw the TV Glow’ is an atmospheric surrealism piece that depicts a universe in which a pair of friends become deeply ingrained in a television show, losing sight of who they are. It’s a meditation on self-curation, placing ourselves in a mould to be a mirror of society until our reflection is no longer ours, but what the world thinks we should be. Society wants us all to be representative of the same identity; it’s not interested in the complications of queerness, gender identity, mood disorders, or neurological conditions. They do not want to see us, and they do not want to hear us, and in that, we became trapped inside ourselves, screaming to be seen and understood, to feel included, to not have to be put in a box so the rest of the world can live in harmony while we suffer.

‘The Pink Opaque’, the teen television show that draws the protagonist (Owen) in, is vivid, expressive and filled with possibilities. The show is not just entertainment, it’s existence. A space where emotions and identity can be expressed, but out of reach enough to reinforce the isolation, and the bridge between one might feel internally versus what they are expected to show externally. They befriend Maddy, a lesbian who teaches Owen it’s okay to be a certain way, wants to run away, and does so; they disappear without a trace, forcing Owen to grow up alone, isolated once again.

 As Owen ages, the gap between the world, The Pink Opaque and reality diminishes; they suppress themselves deeper into a societal role, conforming their identity into normality, which to them actually appears warped and sterile, leading them to become detached. Psychologically suffocating, with no friend to hold onto, no television show to bury their mind into, they lose the part of themselves they were just finding, and rewrite who they are to fit in. They get a job, take their father's home and make it their own, say they have a family and they love them more than anything, but we have no proof of any of this, only a television they bring into their house making us wonder if their life is just standard—wake up, go to work, come home, watch tv—bury their emotions in the fictional worlds that television offers, rather than going into the world they could create for himself.

What does Owen truly want? When they come across Maddy in the grocery store, and Maddy tells them that the Pink Opaque is real, they are still too scared to let themselves be. The one person that they felt they belonged to, they pushed away in fear; the rest of the world won’t accept them. Owen spent their life learning how to shape themselves. By the time Maddy comes back, the conditioning is so deeply ingrained that they aren’t willing to understand the truth; they are playing a role they have locked themselves into. Owen wants freedom, but freedom to them is an illusion, an impossibility. Fear wins. Conformity wins. They internalized the world, became it, until it became so big inside their soul it absolutely ripped them apart—but were they ever really given a chance to be free? When was the only time they began to find their identity, in a television show? This is a play on how hard we have to work on our minds to be able to accept ourselves for who we are.

It took me 37 years to come out as pansexual, that’s a long time to be trapped under an identity of fear, too scared to be myself, and now that I’m out, some fears did come true, I lost friends, people who have been in my life for years, only to suddenly disappear in the wake of my queerness—but I also GAINED friends, and have been properly seen for the first time in my life, so what was I scared of? Well, everything. The world isn’t built for us. I’m a neurodivergent queer woman. It’s hard enough with just the ‘woman’ part, so when I watched this film—and believe me, I put it off, because I was not ready—I cried. I bawled. I wasn’t scared, I was heard. I saw my life growing up, desperate to be known, but too terrified to be perceived as different.

There is still time.

‘I Saw the TV Glow’ isn’t just a film, it’s an emotional, fractured reflection of the fears many of us carry but are too afraid to confront. It’s easy to find ourselves in Owen, it’s easy to find ourselves in Maddy, and deeply unsettling to see the rest of the characters live their daily lives in a world that doesn’t feel meant for us. I have felt that struggle, that battle, existing in a world where I felt displaced, moulding myself into what society wanted me to, in fear of being nothing but what was expected of me, a wife, a mother, no more, no less. I pushed my identity so far down that I choked on it. Hell, if I saw this film when it came out, it might have given me the push I needed, but even then: I was too scared. Watching Owens' life slip away was like watching my own life unfold, I conformed every version of myself, tricking myself to live a life that isn’t mine, is to live a life of safety, but the beauty of this film and it’s heavy, heavy message is that there is still time, we have time to unlearn the patterns ingrained in us, we have time to be seen and heard for who we really are.

Owen’s journey wasn’t about them, it was about us, all of us who sit under the umbrella, the silence we carry for daring to be different, to think differently. We have the power to tear down walls.

The TV glowing is an insidious representation of media, a warm, glaring escape from the real world where we can shape our identities on fictional characters and deeply relate to the words of others. Express our emotions, feign a connection and parasocial relationships, within the safe confines of a world that doesn't demand us to change, or question us. It’s a distortion of the truth; it’s all the ways we seek solace in external things rather than sitting with our pain. A distraction that we can be happy as long as we play by the rules, and it won’t be until it builds up so high inside of us that it breaks out into this world, not another world that’s built on a television, or in a book, or a game. It’s about looking inward, facing the darkness and allowing ourselves to be who we truly are, not waiting until we crack and are running through our work screaming and apologizing.

Owen’s chaotic, emotional release is the reality that the life they had built for themselves is not sustainable. The screams are not of joy, they are not of pain or rejection either; they are an open invitation to be seen, a willingness to finally receive help in being who they are. The mask came off, and what is left is a raw, emotional wreckage of a life unlived, and now a desperate need to deconstruct the identity they had created for themselves. It takes courage, gumption, to stand up against the world and be seen, and truly live for oneself.

This ending is the culmination of the film’s emotional weight, offering no easy answers, no neatly tied-up conclusions. It’s an open-ended moment, where freedom and fear exist in a delicate balance, leaving us to contemplate whether or not Owen will choose to rise from the chaos or continue to be swallowed by it. It’s a poignant reflection of the deep internal conflict many face when trying to break free from societal expectations and the oppressive forces that shape who we’re allowed to be.

There is still time.