Fantasia Review: Corpus Investigates the Fuzzy Boundaries of Sexuality and Control

      Vince (Brodie Townsend) returns to town for the first time in nine months, marking his return since his modeling-acting career has taken off with magazine covers. Ross (Michael Vlamis) is aware of his return, as they are two parts of their “golden triangle.” However, the third member, Sayo (Jeff Wahlberg), is unaware. His relationship with Vince is more complicated, characterized by an on-again-off-again, more-than-just-friends dynamic, which might soon lean towards being “on again.”

      Sayo is trying to maintain his composure. He leaves Vince at the club to go home and work on that night’s photos, but his old friend shows up at his door nonetheless. Although he forces Vince to sleep in the bathtub instead of his bed, he cannot refuse an invitation Vince proposes: to meet a well-connected photographer who could help him gain some traction in the industry. They are in for what seems to be an unforgettable night.

      However, once director Corrin Evans (an intimacy coordinator making her feature debut) and co-writer Lily Cowles lead this trio into the woods, it becomes clear that the night is not the party they expected. There are only two additional guests besides their host, Vince’s new industry friend Billie (Cowles): her partner Cata (Ching Valdes-Aran) and their bloodied friend Wren (Nuha Jes Izman). Thus, we realize we know more about what’s unfolding than they do.

      The reason is straightforward: Evans and Cowles don’t open Corpus with Sayo heading to the club to shoot pictures and distribute drugs. They instead begin with Wren—a novice model eager to work with Billie. However, Billie transforms their solo session into an “edgy” collaboration that Wren is too intimidated to halt. Why does she stay? Why does she suddenly exude enough confidence to unsettle Billie? Why is she in the courtyard holding a chicken carcass?

      Our minds race the moment we lay eyes on her, and our initial assumptions are likely correct, but that doesn’t mean we fully understand the circumstances. It’s not solely about what Billie and her associates might inflict on Vince and his companions. It also concerns Sayo navigating the intricate feelings he has for his estranged friend. Ross attends hoping for party fun, while Sayo is there because Vince expressed he needed him as a support against potential threats.

      While we absolutely notice the odd happenings—raw meat for dinner, the women’s keen interest when they see three men instead of one, and the hosts' reluctance to take photos despite Billie’s profession—our primary focus remains on Sayo’s emotional turmoil. He carefully guards his heart to avoid another heartbreak yet yearns to give in, as the desire is impossible to ignore.

      This blend of narrative mystery and character drama blurs the lines between sexuality and control. Billie and Cata admire Vince. Vince leads Sayo on. Sayo realizes that his only chance of surviving might be to cut ties with Vince entirely to avoid further tests of his resolve. And when the reality of the situation eventually emerges, that same desire leads the prey to willingly sacrifice themselves to their predators. Reason seldom prevails.

      I appreciated the aesthetic created by Evans (who also edits) and cinematographer Charlie Cole. The music evokes a 1998 vibe (not to mention Sayo’s Walkman), while the visuals, enhanced by a “living photograph” effect each time Sayo clicks his camera, are stunning. The setting—a beautiful old mansion adorned with paintings and peeling wallpaper—evokes thoughts of gothic vampires.

      However, this narrative is not about that at all. The mythology behind Corpus is simpler yet equally supernatural. The film wisely recognizes there’s no need for elaborate explanations. Once we inherently grasp the mechanics, all that’s left is to observe it unfold and see who remains standing. The outcome plays with gender, age, and jealousy as the primal urge to be with someone intertwines with the psychological desire to become them. It builds to a remarkable climax.

      At the center of it all is Ross’ talking-for-the-sake-of-talking “golden triangle,” where he represents the money, Vince the face, and Sayo the support. The women don’t serve as a direct comparison. Cata claims she embodies all three roles, but she clearly emerges as the leader, Billie as the follower, and Wren as the unpredictability. How events unfold supports this assumption, with everyone scrambling to understand a rapidly deteriorating situation that slips out of their control.

      The cast is impressive too. Townsend personifies the slyly manipulative ingenue accustomed to getting his way. Izman embraces her character’s unpredictability, while Vlamis provides entertainment with his constant arousal from the chaos. Both Cowles and Valdes-Aran exude wisdom and strength through their calmness. However, it is truly Wahlberg who leads us through the emotional twists