Sayo photographs New York’s nightlife, dealing drugs to partygoers at clubs and generally stays out of trouble with the owners of those clubs with free samples. Life takes a spin when he learns that Vince, an old friend whose star is on the rise in Hollywood, is back in town. Sayo also happens to have a massive crush on Vince. Time moves slowly with each picture Sayo takes and it almost grinds to a halt when Vince shows up at the club that night.
Old passions are rekindled; Sayo does not know if he is coming or going. He tries to keep distance between Vince and himself despite past desires igniting once again. Vince invites Sayo and their friend Ross to a party upstate, at the home of Billie, a famous photographer. They arrive at an sprawling, old estate, deep into the woods; presumably owned by Billie and her partner Cata. In the periphery lingers Wren, a young model we saw Billie taking photos of in the prologue. Once everyone gets settled the drinks start to flow freely and passions stir once again. Passes are made, passes are rejected. Desires and frustrations happen in equal measure.
The next day, true intentions are revealed. Someone has designs for something beyond the carnal joy of physical intimacy and sexual fulfillment. The exchange of bodily fluids ranks low on the list of things to start being worried about.
Corpus is director Corrin Evans' first feature film, which they wrote with producer/co-star Lily Cowles. Together, they dive into the messy drama of being young, lonely, and trying to figure out who you are. Corpus starts out as a moody, slow-burn erotic thriller before taking a wild, violent turn into invasion horror.
At its heart, the movie serves up a fluid, progressive look at relationships. The plot throws traditional romance rules out the window, showing a world where passion, longing, and attraction don't care about gender norms. Overall we would say that Corpus is gender-blind but at its heart beats a queer story. The vibes are raw and physical, something that maybe someone can connect with in that, ‘we’ve all been there’ way. Evans brought their experience as a long-time intimacy coordinator in film and television to the set here and their first film feasts on an understanding of fluid human connection, boundaries, and physical chemistry even though the relationship dynamics in this one are messy.
Underneath the sexy, heavy atmosphere, there's a cynical take on modern relationships and attraction. Evans uses the characters' constant head games and shifting loyalties to show how shallow desire can be. It serves as a warning about how lonliness can make you a target for emotional and sexual manipulation. Still, because of Evans' experience, these intimate moments are suggestive, yes, but do not feel exploitative or gratuitous.
If there's one downside, it's that Corpus is a crawl. Honestly, it moves slow, which might test people who want quick thrills. For most of the movie, it sits in this pocket, that of a languid, artsy erotic drama. The story felt like it was procrastinating sometimes, testing our patience while the characters endlessly lead each other on without anything happening. In the case of Sayo and Vince there were many false starts.
Luckily, that buildup has a point. By stretching the tension until it’s ready to snap, the movie makes its finale hit hard. In the third act, Corpus drops the sexy drama act and violently flips into invasion horror. The ending is shocking and blindsided us after all those dreamlike interactions and erotic scenes.
Corpus is focused on Sayo’s character depth, prioritizing his psychological growth over cheap, fast thrills. But if you're looking for fast scares and quick jumps, you'll want to skip it. You should check Corpus out if you appreciate and want to support LGBTQ+ cinema or patient, atmospheric horror films with a payoff at the end. We simply think these themes and that ending make the trip worth it. It establishes Evans as a filmmaker who can push sensitive, intensely physical queer stories to their limits while keeping ethical boundaries intact.