In her column “Her POV,” Blyss Cleveland reviews classic and contemporary films directed by women.

Editor’s Note: This article is a review and includes subjective thoughts, opinions and critiques.

Almost all workplace comedies are horror films. Essentially, they put a humorous spin on the coercive nature of working to make a living. “Forbidden Fruits” (2026), a comedy-horror film directed by Meredith Alloway, highlights a lesser known occupational hazard: working at a store that is actually a coven and potentially dying as a result. 

Lili Reinhart stars as Apple, the leader of the pack at clothing retailer Free Eden, a mall store with a bohemian vibe that sells expensive women’s apparel and accessories. Apple rules her colleagues, Cherry (Victoria Pedretti) and Fig (Alexandra Shipp), with an iron fist. After a former Free Eden staff member quits, Apple lures Pumpkin (Lola Tung) away from her food court job and into her cornucopia of “Fruits” — a prestigious title that other mall workers use to refer to the girls.

Apple’s goals of girlbossing her way to store manager and restoring the completeness of the witchcraft rituals performed in the stockroom are threatened by the presence of Sharon (Gabrielle Union), a manager sent by corporate headquarters. After a mysterious employee death occurs, the bodies continue to pile up.

“Forbidden Fruits” marks Alloway’s feature-film debut. The script was co-written by Alloway and playwright Lily Houghton, and in fact adapted from one of Houghton’s former plays, “Of the woman came the beginning of sin, and through her we all die.”

In a culture that promotes constant consumption, retail is the perfect setting to explore how aesthetics, individuality and conformity collide in interesting and contradictory ways. There are trenchant details about the absurdity of selling expensive lifestyle products, while not making enough money to keep a roof over one’s head. The occult elements are a nod to how women have long had to fight for economic independence. Yet, despite the interesting angles, “Forbidden Fruits” falls short of making a good point.

In the film, humor is used to show how women like Apple shamelessly secure fealty among a friend group and excuse their bad behavior under the guise of female empowerment. Forced dressing room confessionals are a key component of the witchcraft rituals, which give Apple essential information about the Fruits’ insecurities that she weaponizes against them. Apple’s motivations are ultimately undercut by the film’s depiction of her as irrational, instead of someone suffering from trauma and doing the wrong things for right (albeit slightly misguided) reasons. 

After Pumpkin is initiated into the group, Apple shares the three rules that all the “Fruits” have to follow: strict adherence to supporting each other, not deriving pleasure from other people’s suffering and only texting boys using emojis. Lest one is confused about why that third rule exists, we learn that former and current Fruits’ desires to be picked and plucked by men have wreaked havoc on the group dynamics. It’s hard for girls to uplift other girls when they’re chasing boys. 

Pumpkin’s ability to set boundaries with Apple and still show loyalty — a skill that impresses Fig and threatens Cherry’s place — is another threat to their solidarity. Yet, we see the girls at the height of their marketing powers when they work together to sell a mom-influencer a $400 scarf. This is an expensive piece of cloth, but the feeling of being a new woman is priceless.

Throughout the film, costume designer Sarah Millman’s late 1990s and early 2000s-inspired choices serve the story. When we are introduced to Apple, Cherry and Fig, the former two are wearing hot pants. Whereas Apple’s shorts are part of a matching set and look chic, Cherry’s bloomers make her look like a sexy baby. From the charm bracelets the Fruits wear to the scarves, headbands and layered necklaces, nearly every single look is over-accessorized. When the primary mode of feminine expression is consumption, individuality will amount to conformity.

Although the script is full of clever quips, most of the dialogue only elicited quiet snickers. Yet, there is a use of music that is so inspired, the whole theater erupted in laughter. The explicit version of the Ying Yang Twins’ “Wait (The Whisper Song)” blares when Pumpkin learns about one of the Fruits’ very active private lives. Mercifully, the scene is long enough to give the viewer time to stop cackling.

Alloway also takes care to showcase details that will be familiar to anyone who has worked at a mall, such as the mall walkers who get their laps in before stores open. This verisimilitude makes other creative decisions egregious. Those who have served in the retail trenches know that staffing is kept so lean that it would be impossible for the Fruits to all traipse to the food court for their lunch break!

As the bodies begin to drop and the retail tale descends into chaos, Pedretti’s performance as Cherry remains the most compelling to me. Throughout the film, she is tasked with some of the most demanding physical comedy and delivers a heart-wrenching monologue in which her character reveals a surprising depth. The actress calibrates Cherry’s whisper-breathy voice and plays the silliest moments with sincerity. 

Because of the gore that overshadows the latter half of the film, I doubt audiences will leave “Forbidden Fruits” with a more critical eye toward consumption. As much as I enjoyed the film, I left with a slight sense of dread about all the ways one can die at the mall.