'Forbidden Fruits' Review
- Kyle Wolfe
- 4 hours ago
- 3 min read
Release Date: 03/27/26 [Cinemas]
Genre: Comedy. Horror.
MPAA: Rated R.
Distributor: IFC Films. Shudder.
The Verdict: A Mistake
There’s a particular kind of disappointment when a film presents itself as something enticing, only to sour after the first bite, leaving a bitter aftertaste, and Forbidden Fruits gets there almost immediately. Centered around a tight-knit group of employees within a mall storefront, the film hints at a darker undercurrent beneath its stylized, clique-driven dynamic, but never establishes the groundwork needed to sustain it. Directed and written by Meredith Alloway, the film often feels more interested in presenting an attitude than developing a story to sustain it. What unfolds instead is a sluggish, increasingly disengaging experience that struggles to justify its own narrative direction. Even at a brisk runtime, it feels padded by scenes that neither deepen its characters nor sharpen its themes.
The central issue lies in its characters, who feel less like fully formed individuals and more like loosely sketched archetypes without the detail to make them compelling. Performances from the ensemble, including Lili Reinhart, Lola Tung, Victoria Pedretti, and Alexandra Shipp, aren’t given much to work with, leaving even the more prominent roles feeling thinly drawn. There’s little in the way of meaningful growth, and even less that encourages emotional investment. Worse, many of them are actively unlikable, not in a deliberate or challenging way, but in a manner that makes spending time with them feel like a chore. That feeling is only amplified by the film’s decision to keep most of its story contained within a mall setting, which creates a kind of narrative claustrophobia. Rather than using that confined space to build tension or energy, it instead traps the audience alongside characters who never become engaging enough to justify that proximity. The dialogue does little to help, often landing flat and undercutting any attempt at wit or insight.
There are clear traces of influence running through Forbidden Fruits, most notably in its attempt to echo the social dynamics and sharp-edged tone of films like Mean Girls. The film commits fully to that kind of heightened, comedic sensibility, but the execution rarely connects. Jokes come and go without impact, and moments designed to land with bite instead pass by without leaving much of an impression. Rather than feeling like a reinterpretation or even a playful homage, it comes off as imitation without understanding, borrowing surface traits without capturing the underlying intelligence that made those dynamics work in the first place. It’s not a question of intent—the film clearly knows what it wants to be—it’s that the material never rises to meet those ambitions.
From a technical standpoint, the film doesn’t offer much relief. The visual presentation—particularly in its framing, lighting, and focus—often feels careless, as if the image itself hasn’t been given the same level of consideration as the concept. For a film that clearly aims for a stylized aesthetic, it never manages to establish a visual identity strong enough to support that ambition. Instead of enhancing mood or reinforcing the story’s intent, the visuals frequently distract, pulling attention away from scenes that already struggle to maintain it. Even the film’s central mythology feels underdeveloped, as though it exists more as an idea than a fully realized framework. There’s little sense that the film believes in its own world, making it difficult for the audience to invest in it on any level.
If there’s a moment where Forbidden Fruits shows a flicker of life, it comes late, in a brief stretch of stylized kills and late-stage bloodletting that at least demonstrates a level of craft missing elsewhere. The sequences are effective in isolation, delivering on a visceral level that the rest of the film never quite reaches. But arriving so late and occupying so little of the runtime, they feel less like a payoff and more like an afterthought—too little, too late to reframe the experience. In a way, the film lives up to its title, but not in the way it intends—promising indulgence, only to leave behind a bitter aftertaste. There may be an audience for its specific tone and sensibility, but it never connects in a way that makes that appeal resonate. What remains is a film chasing cult appeal without earning it, mistaking aesthetic intent for substance and offering little in return.
Where to Watch:
