Children of the Corn — Would She Have Liked It?

My wife and I were both Stephen King fans.

Katy was already neck‑deep in King’s world when we met. I was more of a casual reader. Caught up on the essentials, dipping into some deep cuts and the non‑horror titles. Somewhere along the way, it stopped being about catching up to what she’d read. It became something we shared. We built our own little King universe: books stacked on nightstands, adaptations queued up. If his name was on it, it felt like it belonged to us.

Watching the adaptations became a ritual. When a new film was announced, we’d reread the book first, sometimes out loud to each other, to build anticipation. It was our version of foreplay. We did it with The Hobbit and anything by Dennis Lehane too.

Just nerdy, literary foreplay.

I’ve been avoiding this one.

Partly because we never loved the original short story. And the ’80s adaptation was one of those classic “meh” King efforts. Not terrible. Not great. Just… there.

But mostly because it’s on the list of things we missed. Katy will never get to see this version. We had chances. Life got loud. Appointments. Fatigue. Timing. And now there’s that tiny whisper of should’ve, could’ve, would’ve that attaches itself to the dumbest things.

The other night, I was bored, lightly stoned, and saw it streaming. I try to support horror when I can, so I rented it and pressed play.

Don’t worry, hon. You didn’t miss anything.

Let me explain.

1. The PowerPoint in the Corn

Instead of a troubled couple stumbling into a creepy farming town, no adults, blood‑stained walls, a suffocating sense of dread, we get a tree‑hugging teen who wants to escape her town and take down Big GMO. The political messaging wasn’t subtle. It was laminated and stapled to every scene.

Now, I’m not anti‑politics in horror. Some of the best horror stories are political at their core. But there’s a difference between subtext and a PowerPoint presentation. The opening beat already told us everything. We didn’t need it re‑announced every twelve minutes.

And the wardrobe choices for that poor young actress? Those weren’t shorts. Those were evidence exhibits. I kept expecting Chris Hansen to walk in, pull up a chair, and calmly ask me, “Care to explain what you thought was happening here?”

2. Spirit Halloween Presents: Evil

Why. Do. They. Keep. Showing. The. Corn.

As I mentioned, Children of the Corn isn’t one of King’s stories I return to. But even I can admit the original power of the story was the unseen entity. The thing in the fields. The suggestion.

Let it breathe in the imagination.

Instead, we get what looks like Groot on meth. If Groot were assembled from rejected cornstalk props at Spirit Halloween. When horror explains itself too clearly, it becomes a little less scary.

Now, I’ll be fair: the scene where the corn monster tears that woman apart? That was GNARLY!!!. Credit where it’s due.

3. Violet Beauregarde Starts a Religion

They leaned hard into Lord of the Flies energy, but without the psychological weight to support it. The lead cult kid was clearly talented; the actor did the job. I just hated the character choices.

Instead of quiet, eerie, neighbor’s‑cat‑definitely‑didn’t‑die‑naturally creepy, we get full‑volume Violet Beauregarde with a megaphone. She wasn’t unsettling. She was obnoxious.

I didn’t fear her. I wanted someone to punch her.

Would Katy have liked it?

Nope. I can even pin-point the exact thing that would’ve made her cringe. The main protagonist, the young Captain Planet fan‑club president. That weird Disney Channel child‑actor cadence. Everything bigger than it needed to be. Katy hated that.

So no, I’m not recommending this one. It’s an hour and thirty‑three minutes of your life you won’t get back. If you’re craving cornfield horror, watch the original. It’s campy, sure, but it’s the good kind of camp. The kind that smells faintly like basement carpet and microwave popcorn.

And if someone finally punches Violent Beauregarde? Let me know. I’d pay the full $70 movie‑theater experience just to see that.