Stephen King‘s 1977 short story inspired an entire Children of the Corn franchise nearly a dozen deep, each new entry drifting further away from the source material. Writer/Director Kurt Wimmer (Equilibrium, Ultraviolet) keeps that momentum going with the franchise’s eleventh installment, an entry that bears very little in common with King’s story other than murderous kids, an abundance of corn, and a small town Nebraska setting. If only Children of the Corn 2023 connected those elements in any meaningful or logical way.

An opening sequence introduces young Eden (Kate Moyer), an orphan playing outside her Rylstone, Nebraska group home as her brother haggardly emerges from the nearby cornfield. He chooses a weapon lying about the yard (yes, of a children’s home), then promptly murders one of the home’s adult employees, escalating until massive efforts by authorities finally subdue him as Eden remains locked in fear. Cut to Boleyn “Bo” Williams (Elena Kampouris), a teen on the cusp of adulthood making plans to escape the dying small town. Before she can break free, however, Bo finds herself determined to course correct the town’s adults dooming their dying corn crops. Her good intentions get waylaid by a newly psychotic Eden and her growing cult of children determined to punish the grown-ups and return the corn to its former glory.

The two introductory scenes of the film’s antagonist and protagonist highlight the strange editing and storytelling choices at play in Children of the Corn. Eden’s abrupt shift in personality can be attributed to whatever evil lurks in the fields, though it never bothers to explain. But Bo’s opening presents thematic and narrative possibilities that only partially get developed, if at all. Both indicate heavy interference or reshoots that undercut intent.

That’s the least of the problems here. Horror often requires a suspension of disbelief; there’s an evil brainwashing entity among the corn, but Children of the Corn struggles to make any of its characters plausible or rooted in reality. There’s a haphazardness to the superficial renderings of this small town and its inhabitants to the point of incredulous and inconsistent behavior at every turn. Bo and Eden speak and behave in ways that contradict their age. Character beats ultimately amount to nothing but filler, like Bo’s relationship with her family. Despite dialogue explaining the contrary, Bo’s strong bond with her brother begins and ends with her intro. Blink, and you’ll miss what happens to her adulteress mother. The closest the heroine comes to emotional nuance is through her aloof father (Callan Mulvey, Till Death), though the choppy storytelling ensures that fails to register, too. 

As for the horror, there’s a surprising restraint with the kills. A couple of moments of inspired gore stand out, but Children of the Corn seems more content to fixate on the cultish behavior of Eden and her followers than wracking up a body count. Considering the amount of badly behaving adults in Rylstone, a higher kill number might’ve gone far. That doesn’t even touch upon the underbaked villain or the rough CGI bringing it to life.

Expectations might be low at this stage of the franchise, but nothing about Children of the Corn works. Motivations are confusing at best, and Wimmer never manages to set-up who these characters are, let alone establish any rules or worldbuilding that would explain why they behave so erratically. Early dialogue hints toward timely themes that never get explored. The horror pulls its punches. While its current form suggests a movie edited to death, excising scenes that might’ve explained some of this, it’s hard to spot any potential among the remaining pieces. It does get one thing right, though; maybe it’s time to just let it all die.

Children of the Corn released in theaters on March 3 and On Demand and Digital March 21, 2023.

This review was originally published on February 27, 2023.