Corpus (2026)
From its earliest days, the horror genre has been a unique cinematic space for queer voices to be heard. Whether explicit or implicit in the project, horror cinema and queer cinema have been intertwined and continue to be to this day. Screening as part of the 2026 Fantasia Film Festival, Corrin Evans' Corpus continues this tradition as the film follows a young photographer named Sayo (Jeff Wahlberg) who follows his on-and-off lover, Vince (Brodie Townsend), to a party in 90s upstate New York. When the group arrives, things immediately seem off as they are introduced to the group of women hosting the party. As Sayo tries to find his place in Vince's life, things continue to grow stranger as something dark looms over the group.
Corpus is a film of two sides. The first is its identity as a queer relationship drama. Quite tender and meaningful, the relationship between Sayo and Vince is an instant highlight of the film. While Sayo loves Vince and the pair share an undeniable chemistry, Vince continues to push Sayo to the side as he pursues his career as an actor. Sayo wants desperately to know how Vince views their relationship and if he is actually interested in pursuing a future together in a more consistent and serious capacity. Especially for being a debut feature screenplay by the pair of Evans and Lily Cowles, this is a remarkably well-written drama that also benefits from a great pair of performances. Wahlberg especially gets plenty of emotional depth to play with, with many audience members sure to see themselves represented in his questions of self-worth and relationship status. While the horror lurks at the edges of the frame, this drama is the main focus of the majority of the film, and it more than rises to that role.
The other side of the film is its horror. Very slow in its reveals, the horror elements brew throughout the feature, often pulling away just when the audience feels like everything is going to be revealed. While some of the core ideas of the terrors within the film feel reminiscent of other recent genre entries, Corpus finds its own voice with unique iconography and strong execution once all its cards are put on the table.
It is how these two sides work together that gives the film some moments of pause. While each individual side is strong, they don't always flow well together with how the film is organized and paced. The atmosphere of horror and promise of darkness does sometimes undercut the power of the relationship being explored, and the relationship is sometimes so engaging that the slowly building horror can feel like an unnecessary distraction. It doesn't help that the film waits until the final act to truly embrace its horror core, with its constant teasing growing somewhat tiresome. It would have felt more complete had the horror come in earlier, with the two sides merging far more than they actually do.
While Corpus remains an effective queer horror film and shows great promise for Evans in their directorial debut, with a few minor changes, what is good here could have been great.
Corpus is a film of two sides. The first is its identity as a queer relationship drama. Quite tender and meaningful, the relationship between Sayo and Vince is an instant highlight of the film. While Sayo loves Vince and the pair share an undeniable chemistry, Vince continues to push Sayo to the side as he pursues his career as an actor. Sayo wants desperately to know how Vince views their relationship and if he is actually interested in pursuing a future together in a more consistent and serious capacity. Especially for being a debut feature screenplay by the pair of Evans and Lily Cowles, this is a remarkably well-written drama that also benefits from a great pair of performances. Wahlberg especially gets plenty of emotional depth to play with, with many audience members sure to see themselves represented in his questions of self-worth and relationship status. While the horror lurks at the edges of the frame, this drama is the main focus of the majority of the film, and it more than rises to that role.
The other side of the film is its horror. Very slow in its reveals, the horror elements brew throughout the feature, often pulling away just when the audience feels like everything is going to be revealed. While some of the core ideas of the terrors within the film feel reminiscent of other recent genre entries, Corpus finds its own voice with unique iconography and strong execution once all its cards are put on the table.
It is how these two sides work together that gives the film some moments of pause. While each individual side is strong, they don't always flow well together with how the film is organized and paced. The atmosphere of horror and promise of darkness does sometimes undercut the power of the relationship being explored, and the relationship is sometimes so engaging that the slowly building horror can feel like an unnecessary distraction. It doesn't help that the film waits until the final act to truly embrace its horror core, with its constant teasing growing somewhat tiresome. It would have felt more complete had the horror come in earlier, with the two sides merging far more than they actually do.
While Corpus remains an effective queer horror film and shows great promise for Evans in their directorial debut, with a few minor changes, what is good here could have been great.