Forbidden Fruits (2026) Review!!

Synopsis – At a mall store, Apple leads a secret witch cult with coworkers Cherry and Fig. New hire Pumpkin questions their sisterhood, forcing them to confront inner darkness or meet violent ends.

My Take – It will take time to fully measure the cultural echoes of films like Mean Girls (2004) and The Craft (1996)—two very different but equally sharp explorations of teenage cliques, power struggles, and the fragile search for belonging. One weaponizes social manipulation, the other supernatural witchcraft, yet both underline how precarious identity can be for young women.

Since then many filmmakers have since attempted to capture that same tension, and Meredith Alloway’s directorial debut—co-written with Lily Houghton and adapted from Houghton’s stage play Of the Woman Came the Beginning of Sin, and Through Her We All Die—is the latest to join that lineage.

Set almost entirely in a mall, the film brims with style and energy, mixing laughs with jolts of horror while commenting on female friendship, retail culture, and the scars of parental choices. And aided by a lively ensemble and a sharp script give it the makings of a cult favorite, even if it doesn’t quite reach the heights it aims for.

Though only produced by Diablo Cody (Juno, Jennifer’s Body), her influence is unmistakable in the film’s tone and self-aware humor. It’s unafraid to be campy, bloody, and satirical, but that same camp sometimes undermines the characters—especially in a chaotic finale that feels more forced than earned. Still, the film’s biggest achievement is that even with its heightened style and dialogue it is still able to hit home emotionally. You can certainly watch this film as a comedy-horror hybrid and never think about it on a deep level.

The story follows on three women working at Free Eden, a boutique clothing store that dominates the Texas mall scene. Much of its allure comes from the employees themselves—stylish, magnetic, and each named after a fruit: Apple (Lili Reinhart), Cherry (Victoria Pedretti), and Fig (Alexandra Shipp). While the store has its own policies, the real rules are dictated by Apple, whose authority defines what it means to be a “Fruit.”

Some of Apple’s commandments sound empowering—like standing up for one another and supporting women more broadly—but many are suffocating. She forbids dating men outright, and if interaction is unavoidable, it must be limited to text messages composed entirely of emojis. Apple also pressures Cherry to shed so-called “unattractive” traits, though most of these are simply anything that might divert attention from Apple herself.

The dynamic shifts when Pumpkin (Lola Tung), a pretzel shop worker who catches Fig’s eye, is recruited into Free Eden. Once inside, Pumpkin realizes the trio isn’t just a clique—it’s a miniature witchy cult. What begins as playful bonding quickly curdles into something darker, as Apple grows increasingly desperate to keep her fragile empire intact, no matter the cost.

The film begins with a knowingly silly premise that asks you to suspend seriousness right away. Each character—crafted by Lily Houghton and Meredith Alloway—is exaggerated, odd, and archetypal in a Mean Girls-style way.

But for a while, the plot barely exists, which works both for and against the film. On one hand, it allows us to enjoy the group dynamics as Pumpkin gradually disrupts Apple’s grip on Cherry and Fig, encouraging them to embrace their individuality. On the other, the looseness sometimes makes the story feel aimless, relying heavily on the conviction of its performances to carry momentum.

However, the film does operate on multiple levels. Its devilish fun on the surface, as beneath the camp lies a streak of darkness and depth. As the possibility of a coven—or cult—emerges, the script grows more engaging and mysterious. It acknowledges the male gaze without making misogyny its central theme, instead weaving it in as one thread of a larger, chaotic tapestry.

Sharp with Gen Z lingo and satirical about retail culture, the film celebrates female friendship while also exposing how rigid rituals and performative loyalty can erode it. But as director Alloway juggles these ideas with impressive energy, not all land cleanly.

For example, by the final act, the film’s uncertainty about its own supernatural elements becomes glaring. Apple insists she’s tapped into an ancient witch-like power, but the narrative never commits—leaving the climax muddled. Rather than resolving these threads, she leans into grisly carnage, a choice that feels like an easy but unsatisfying escape. The post-credits scene only underscores the lack of clarity.

The film thrives on the strength of its cast. Lili Reinhart commands the screen with undeniable star power. As Apple, she delivers sharp venom with relish, layering the character with new shades in every scene. Her predatory expressions and whip-smart delivery make her performance magnetic—she doesn’t just lead the group, she dominates it. Lola Tung, the film’s true protagonist, is equally impressive. She brings charm, humor, and just enough edge to make Pumpkin both relatable and intriguing.

Victoria Pedretti nearly steals the show. Cherry’s ditzy warmth and loyalty are played with such endearing sincerity that she earns the film’s biggest laughs. It’s a refreshing turn for Pedretti, showcasing a side of her we haven’t seen before. Alexandra Shipp, meanwhile, grounds the group as the most level-headed Fruit, offering a steady counterbalance to the chaos.

On the other hand, Emma Chamberlain’s role amounts to little more than a cameo, and Gabrielle Union is disappointingly underused—both feel like missed opportunities in a film otherwise brimming with committed performances. On the whole, ‘Forbidden Fruit‘ is a campy, stylish horror‑comedy that entertains with wit and energy, but uneven execution leaves it at a solidly above‑average.