There is Still Time

I Saw the TV Glow (and Julio Torres).

“The age of Gosling is over, right?”

I’m not sure this movie club is for me. Or maybe I just can’t imagine a world in which the age of Gosling is over. I hold my drink to my glistening forehead as the guy with the fanny pack continues, “I mean, he’s not a style icon anymore!”

I think about the photo I recently saw on a Twitter account called “Ryan Gosling Source,” of the actor on the red carpet in a stunning aqua suit. I saved the photo to my camera roll and look at it often when I’m sad. Sweat trickles down my back. I turn to the person across from me and make conversation about the movie we’re seeing.

“I don’t usually watch movies like this,” they say. 

“What kind of movies do you watch?” I ask. 

“I grew up watching a lot of French films.” 

I.

To be fair, there aren’t a lot of movies like Jane Schoenbrun’s “I Saw the TV Glow”—a surreal, neon-tinged fever dream about two teenagers, Owen (Justice Smith/Ian Foreman) and Maddy (Brigette Lundy-Paine), bonding over a beloved TV show. The show, “The Pink Opaque,” features teen girls (Lindsey Jordan of Snail Mail and Helena Howard) battling a motley crew of villains, including the Big Bad Mr. Melancholy.

“The Pink Opaque” gives the unlikely pair a shared language, one that catalyzes not only their friendship but also their first moments of seeing, knowing, exploring their identity. Realizing there’s nothing for her in their suburb, Maddy begs Owen to skip town with her, but he’s too afraid. “The Pink Opaque” is canceled, and Maddy disappears. Years later, Owen still lives at home, working a lonely, dead-end job, when Maddy returns with a bold proposition. 

A friend’s Letterboxd review of the film referenced Roger Ebert’s famous declaration that “the movies are like a machine that generates empathy,” and “I Saw the TV Glow” is a prime example of this machine. The film’s tender backdrop of childhood nostalgia and finding family in fictional characters—experiences many people share—builds empathy for an experience many people don’t have—questioning their gender. And those who have had this experience have felt seen. There’s dialogue about the “drain lords” in “The Pink Opaque” that felt literally ripped from a similar conversation I had with a friend about questioning identity. “They can’t hurt you if you don’t think about them.”

Plus, the soundtrack rocks. Scored by Alex G, the film is full of indie rock heavy hitters—Bartees Strange, Jay Som, Caroline Polachek, Sloppy Jane. The credits roll to a new one by Frances Quinlan, and the people around me jump to leave the theater. “I thought the ending was half-baked,” one says loudly. 

I always like to stick around for the credits. This time especially, I feel like I need to go into a post-op room to process the devastating finale before stumbling back into the lobby. How can everyone just walk out like that? I finish the credits with one other person who gives the screen a knowing nod, like a salute, before walking out. 

II.

As I’m saying goodbye to the group, someone goes, “Isn’t that Julio Torres?” Sure enough, there he is, on a bench in a roped-off area in the corner, wearing a t-shirt for the movie “Problemista” by Julio Torres. I’m feeling weird and bold and still in a daze from the movie, so I go over with a couple other movie clubbers to talk to him. 

“Is this some kind of special screening?” I ask.

“No, it’s a petting zoo,” says Julio.

“Do you want to shake hands?” asks his companion. Julio steps out of the roped area, and we shake hands. He is there for a screening of “Problemista” with an immigration group, I think. He asks what we’ve just seen—he wants to see it—and if it’s scary. I say it’s less gory and more existential, which is sometimes the scariest thing of all. 

I tell Julio I’m a big fan of his work and that my friends and I watched “My Favorite Shapes” over Zoom during the COVID-19 pandemic. I was very tired, which made his surreal comedy even funnier and more surreal. My favorite character was Krisha, an enigmatic chicken nugget toy from a McDonald’s Happy Meal.

“What’s Krisha up to these days?” 

“She’s resting,” Julio says. “She’s in New York, house-sitting.”

“It’s what she deserves,” I say.

I ask for a photo. Why not? Julio’s colleague poses us in front of a poster for “The Room.” “Say ‘Papyrus!’” 

Me and Julio down by “The Room” poster.

III.

Despite the movie clubbers’ grumblings, I’m aglow from the film and my perfect celebrity encounter. I listen to the soundtrack driving home and for most of the week after. It builds on the film in a way few soundtracks do, letting me linger even longer in its universe. 

I’m especially taken by “If I Could,” a Jay Som track that plays softly when Owen asks his mom if he can sleep over at a friend’s—a cover for watching “The Pink Opaque” with Maddy. It sounds like a bunch of 90s and early 2000s pop-rock in a blender. The opening sounds just like “Who Says You Can’t Go Home?” by Bon Jovi, and it also sounds a lot like Gin Blossoms’ “Follow You Down,” and there’s even a little riff that reminds me of Third Eye Blind’s “Semi-Charmed Life.”

At first, I’m a little annoyed by this realization, because frankly I’m not in the mood for Bon Jovi. (I am rarely in the mood for Bon Jovi.) But then I start to find meaning in the allusions and wonder if the lyrics to these sister songs also could be in dialogue with the film.

“Who Says You Can’t Go Home?” is all about denying something that’s in your bones only to eventually surrender.

I spent 20 years trying to get out of this place

I was looking for something I couldn't replace

I was running away from the only thing I've ever known

“Follow You Down” is a little more opaque (sorry), but, to me, it recalls Owen’s hesitance to join Maddy and tendency to bury feelings. 

It's a long way down when all the knots we've tied have come undone

Anywhere you go, I'll follow you down

Anyplace but those I know by heart

Anywhere you go, I'll follow you down

I'll follow you down, but not that far

And later on, it questions the value of living dishonestly and burying your true self—an experience Owen knows all too well. 

How you gonna ever find your place

Running in an artificial pace?

Are they gonna find us lying face-down in the sand?

So what the hell now? We've already been forever damned

“I Saw the TV Glow” has a grim ending, but it’s not without hope. Toward the end, we see a message written in pink sidewalk chalk on the neighborhood street: “There is still time.” “If I Could” leans into that optimism and need for change, which reverberate throughout the song’s musical allusions. I imagine the narrator is Maddy, speaking to Owen. “You're stuck in the middle of your life and looking back,” and “you’re on the outside looking in,” Maddy says, but not without repeating, “I’ll see you again.”

There is still time.