Maybe think of this text as a seance. Some people are obsessed with David Lynch. Fascinated with Fellini. Enraptured by Scorsese and Buñuel and Capra. My mind has been consumed by Jane Schoenbrun. It all started one night in 2024, huddled up in my basement in the New Jersey suburbs. I rented a horror movie I'd heard about online—one with great reviews that I didn't know anything else about. I pulled a Jets Snuggie over my shoulders, turned off the lights, and hit play. Throug