Jane Schoenbrun’s I Saw the TV Glow isn't just a movie. Honestly, it’s a mood, a specific frequency of static that feels like staying up too late in 1998 and seeing something you weren't supposed to. It’s "neon-noir" meets "trans-allegory" meets "suburban nightmare." Finding movies like I Saw the TV Glow is actually a massive headache because the film refuses to stay in one lane. It’s horror, sure, but it’s the kind of horror that feels like a panic attack in a grocery store rather than a guy with a chainsaw.
Most people looking for similar vibes are chasing that specific cocktail of nostalgia and dysphoria. You want that feeling of being trapped in a body, or a town, or a television signal. It’s about the screen becoming more real than the life you’re actually living.
I’ve spent a lot of time digging through the A24 catalog and weirdo indie archives to find the films that actually hit that same nerve. We aren't just looking for "scary movies." We are looking for things that feel like a flickering CRT monitor in a dark basement.
The "Trans-Gothic" Lens and Internal Horror
If you loved the way I Saw the TV Glow used supernatural elements to talk about the terrifying experience of self-discovery, you have to start with Schoenbrun’s previous work. We’re All Going to the World’s Check is the obvious sibling here. It’s smaller, grittier, and way more claustrophobic. It captures that early-internet isolation where the world inside the computer feels like the only place you can breathe. Casey, the lead, feels just as "stuck" as Owen does, navigating an online horror challenge that might be real or might just be a cry for help.
Then there is Titane. Julia Ducournau’s film is way more aggressive—it’s loud, oily, and violent—but it deals with the exact same themes of bodily autonomy and identity. It’s a "body horror" movie where the horror is just the vessel you’re forced to inhabit. It’s not "comfortable" viewing. It’s a wreck. But if the Pink Opaque’s "internal organs" scene in TV Glow resonated with you, Titane is the logical, albeit much more intense, next step.
I think a lot about how these films use "the change" as a source of both wonder and absolute dread. It’s a very specific niche. You aren't just watching a monster movie; you’re watching a person realize they are the monster, or perhaps that the world thinks they are, and neither option feels particularly great.
The Suburban Liminal Space
There is a very specific aesthetic in movies like I Saw the TV Glow that relies on "liminal spaces." Think empty parking lots, dimly lit suburban streets, and high school hallways that feel a mile long. It’s a very 90s/00s brand of loneliness.
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It Follows does this better than almost anything else. David Robert Mitchell shot that movie in a way that feels timeless yet stuck in a decaying Detroit suburb. It has that same synth-heavy atmosphere (thanks to Disasterpeace) that keeps you on edge. The threat is slow. It’s persistent. It’s a metaphor for... well, whatever you want it to be, much like the "Midnight Realm."
Another one people miss is Donnie Darko. I know, it’s the "film bro" classic, but hear me out. If you strip away the cult following, it’s a story about a kid who feels completely alienated from his reality and starts seeing cracks in the universe. It’s got the soundtrack, the angst, and that weird, dreamlike logic where things happen because they feel right, not because they make sense on paper.
Why the 90s Nostalgia Hurts
Nostalgia in these films isn't "I love the 90s!" It’s "The 90s were a cage." I Saw the TV Glow uses The Pink Opaque as a stand-in for shows like Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Are You Afraid of the Dark?, but it twists it. It shows how we cling to media when we don't have a community.
Welcome to the Dollhouse by Todd Solondz hits this note perfectly, though it’s not a horror movie. It’s just... painful. It captures the sheer misery of being an outcast in a world that feels aggressively beige. If the scenes of Owen sitting silently at the dinner table with his parents made you squirm, Dawn Wiener’s life in Welcome to the Dollhouse will feel hauntingly familiar.
Weird Fiction and the Surreal
Sometimes the connection isn't thematic; it's structural. I Saw the TV Glow feels like a David Lynch film filtered through a Generation Alpha lens. So, naturally, you have to look at Lost Highway.
Lynch is the master of the "identity crisis" movie. In Lost Highway, a man literally transforms into someone else mid-movie. No explanation. No logic. Just a terrifying shift in reality. It captures that sense of "I am not who I am supposed to be" that anchors Schoenbrun's work.
- Skinamarink: This one is divisive. People either love it or think it’s a YouTube prank. But if what you liked about TV Glow was the feeling of being a child, staring at a screen while the rest of the house feels "wrong," Skinamarink is that feeling stretched to 90 minutes. It’s pure atmosphere. No plot. Just the dread of the hallway.
- Censor: Set in the 80s during the "Video Nasty" era in the UK. It’s about a woman who classifies horror films and starts to believe one of them contains a message about her missing sister. It’s about the line between the screen and reality blurring until it snaps.
- Videodrome: The grandfather of this entire genre. "Long live the new flesh." David Cronenberg was talking about the transformative power of television way back in 1983. It’s grosser, sure, but the DNA is identical.
The Loneliness of the Archive
There’s a specific subgenre of movies like I Saw the TV Glow that deals with "lost" media. The idea that there’s a tape, or a show, or a signal out there that holds the key to your life.
The Ring (the Japanese original, Ringu, especially) treats media as a virus. But for a more modern take, look at Archive 81 (the show, though the movie influences are there). It’s about the obsession with the past and how we can get lost in the footage of someone else’s life.
I’ve noticed that people who gravitate toward these stories often have a complicated relationship with their own memories. We remember things as being more vibrant than they were. I Saw the TV Glow breaks Owen’s heart by showing him that his favorite show was actually kinda cheap and cheesy when he looks at it as an adult. That’s a brutal realization. It’s the death of the inner child, or worse, the realization that the inner child was living a lie.
Identity as a Horror Element
Personal Shopper starring Kristen Stewart is an unconventional pick here, but it works. It’s a ghost story, but it’s mostly about a woman waiting for a sign from her dead twin while living a life that feels hollow. It’s quiet. It’s moody. It uses technology (texting, specifically) to create a sense of ethereal dread.
If you want something that feels more "indie-rock," check out The Lure. It’s a Polish musical about vampire mermaids in a 1980s nightclub. It sounds insane—and it is—but it’s a deeply felt story about being a "creature" trying to fit into a human world. It’s neon, it’s heartbreaking, and it has that same "DIY" energy that makes I Saw the TV Glow feel so personal.
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Real Talk: Why These Movies Matter Now
We’re living in a time where everyone is hyper-aware of their "brand" or "identity." But I Saw the TV Glow isn't about a curated Instagram identity. It’s about the messy, terrifying stuff underneath. The stuff you’re afraid to tell your parents. The stuff that makes you feel like you’re dying inside while you’re just standing in a kitchen.
These movies aren't "escapism." Not really. They’re more like a mirror. A dusty, cracked mirror in a basement.
How to Curate Your Own Watchlist
Don't just follow an algorithm. If you want more movies like I Saw the TV Glow, you have to look for the "outsider" perspective. Look for directors who aren't afraid to be cringe. Schoenbrun has talked openly about how "cringe" is a part of the trans experience—that period of trying on identities that don't quite fit yet.
- Seek out the "New Queer Horror" wave. Directors like Alice Mai Hall or the team behind Knife + Heart are doing incredible things with genre.
- Focus on Soundscapes. A huge part of the TV Glow experience is the Alex G score and the original songs. Look for movies where the music is a character. Under the Skin is a great example of this. The score by Mica Levi is alien and unsettling.
- Embrace the "Slow Burn." Most of these films don't have "jump scares." They have "existential scares." If you’re bored in the first twenty minutes, give it another ten. The dread needs time to settle in your bones.
The reality is that we’re seeing a new kind of genre emerging. It doesn't have a formal name yet. Some call it "Post-Horror," but that feels too academic. I prefer "The Neon Ache." It’s beautiful, it’s bright, and it hurts to look at for too long.
If you’re looking for your next fix, start with We're All Going to the World's Fair. If you've seen that, move to Censor. If you want something that will actually ruin your week, watch Titane. Just remember to turn the lights off and, if you can, watch them on a screen that’s just a little bit too small for the room. It helps with the immersion.
Go find the films that make you feel like you’re finally being seen, even if what’s being seen is a bit of a monster. That's the whole point, isn't it? To realize you aren't the only one trapped in the broadcast.