Sundance 2026 Review: SACCHARINE is a Sickly Sweet Take On Body Horror

In Saccharine, Australian-American filmmaker Natalie Erika James paints a clear picture of her wheelhouse. This haunted take on fad diet culture bakes in poignancy and bone-chilly accents. What begins with The Substance and Grafted vibes, condemning harmful beauty standards forced down women’s throats, veers more into Relic’s wounded horror territory. It’s not the cleanest or zippiest storytelling, floating through a just-roll-with-it body dysmorphia nightmare stained with jelly filling, but that’s alright. What’s presented is jarring, troubling, and grotesque, all based around unhealthy conversations about society’s mirror-gazing obsession.

Midori Francis stars as Hana, a binge-eating med student with the hots for a fitness influencer (Alanya, played by Madeleine Madden). An old acquaintance of Hana’s introduces her to a miracle weight-loss drug, promising incredible results. The catch? As Hana finds out, the magic formula is made of human ashes. Surely Hana wouldn’t ingest someone’s dusty remains just to shed her unwanted padding, right? Shocker, she does—and becomes possessed by the ghost of who’s inside her swallowable capsules.

Francis shines as a conflicted lead, tapping into the struggles of body dysmorphia while letting genre elements shine. James’s screenplay toys with pitch-black humor amidst the ghoulish invasions of privacy and Hana’s practice operations on an obese cadaver. She’s too enamored by the pill’s lightspeed results to stop, and would rather be tormented by an unrested spirit who can cause Earthly harm (tossing computer monitors, smacking mothers, etc., etc.). Francis isn’t afraid of Hana’s marathon eating scenes, stuffing her face with greasy cheeseburgers and pink-frosted donuts like a savage, nor does she downplay her character’s warped mindset. Hana’s a glutton: for punishment, for cravings, and for disgust.

Saccharine is an unsurprisingly visually forward movie, intimately shot by cinematographer Charlie Sarroff. “Eating” becomes this carnal act, as the zoomed-in lens hyperfixates on the mashing of mastication (or sexual arousal). He wants to represent how Hana feels as she’s gorging on calorie-heavy indulgences, to blow the repugnance out of proportion. But it’s the same way he examines Hana’s medical training as she breaks away bones and removes organs from “Bertha,” her in-class group’s cadaver. There’s intentionality behind the way Sarroff captures the food Hana devours and the meaty human insides she slices into (The Autopsy of Jane Doe style), which is oh-so-clever as the film’s supernatural elements unfold—not to mention an artful composition eye that doesn’t shy away from gory details.

James’ deftness of balancing tones is the film’s greatest weapon. There’s a satirical glamorization of her forging scenes that’s intentionally sensationalized, but the horror elements hit hard. Expect a hint of It Follows as Hana is pursued by her summoned stalker, and a mania to the whole possession element. In short, the more she eats, the more her malevolent passenger eats from her. Cue these obscene, out-of-body moments where Hana shovels a fridge full of leftovers down her gullet at midnight - but sometimes the spirit rebels. When Hana angers the apparition, the invisible force (when not captured in conclave reflections) goes all Paranormal Activity and enters destruction mode. There’s a shock and surprise aspect that’ll have your heart racing, as well as morbid makeup design that brings the “evil” entity to life with bloated, cadaverous features.

That said, there’s a “flow with it” quality to Saccharine that bounces around with lore building and rules. The whole “pills are ash” angle is revealed as a setup in Act 1, and exists to make punchy connections between our bodies and how we treat them. There’s also a slight overload as the film progresses, which slows down the pacing between more captivating genre mashups. Madeleine Madden playfully and seductively acts as Hana’s hottie crush, which adds an undeserved romantic distraction, while Danielle Macdonald effectively plays the “disapproving but supporting” friend when Hana finally breaks. That said, while James’ tonal balance succeeds, the overall experience can feel bogged down as the mythology of Hana, the pills, and her terrible tether is explained. It works for messaging, but can feel scattershot in practice.

Ultimately, Saccharine is a perilous examination of a heavy topic that doesn’t jettison entertainment value. It’s not as affecting as Relic, few films are, but it handily constructs a nasty, sugar-glazed thriller that stands on its highlight moments. Performances are committed, scares are inescapable, and most of all, James proves herself to be the filmmaker we knew she was after Relic. Even at its sloppiest, Saccharine still boasts the vision of a confident, daring filmmaker who can provoke meaningful conversations while still sending chills up our spine. It’s a full meal, with splendid presentation, even if the sum of its parts sits under the heat lamp too long.

Movie Score: 3.5