Here Are the Funniest Reviews From ‘SNL’ Cast Member Sarah Sherman’s Letterboxd Account

If you’ve ever wondered what happens when a comedian treats movie reviews like tiny punchlines, Sarah Sherman’s Letterboxd account is your answer. Her entries don’t read like traditional criticism. They read like the last line of a sketch: fast, vivid, slightly unhinged in the best way, and weirdly specificlike she’s leaving notes for herself in a dream journal that accidentally became public.

Sherman (also known by her stage persona “Sarah Squirm”) is the kind of performer who can make “gross” feel oddly wholesome, turn a single facial expression into a character, and roast someone with the energy of a friendly raccoon stealing a hot dog. So it makes perfect sense that when she logs a film, she often does it with a one-liner that lands like a rimshot. And because Letterboxd is basically “your group chat, but for movies,” her reviews feel like the funniest person you know live-texting a screening from the seat next to you.

Why Sarah Sherman’s Letterboxd Hits So Hard

She’s not writing reviewsshe’s writing micro-jokes

A lot of Letterboxd is thoughtful essays, star ratings, and mini film-studies dissertations (bless). Sarah’s vibe is the opposite: she uses the smallest possible amount of text to create the biggest possible mental image. Sometimes it’s a reaction. Sometimes it’s a compliment disguised as chaos. Sometimes it’s a single reference that instantly rewires the movie into a new, funnier genre.

Her taste leans “cult,” “camp,” and “body-horror-adjacent”

If your ideal movie night involves neon lighting, practical effects, an ‘80s creature, and at least one moment where someone yells “WHAT IS THAT?!” (affectionate), you’re in her lane. Her favorites list alone telegraphs a love for oddball classics and glorious mess: it’s a curated mood board of maximalist, mischievous taste.

She writes like a person texting with popcorn hands

The lowercase. The stretched vowels. The all-caps sincerity. The chaotic punctuation. It’s the voice of someone who is deeply entertained and refuses to pretend they’re above it. That authenticity is why her funniest Letterboxd reviews don’t feel “written”they feel overheard.

A Quick Primer: What Letterboxd Is (and Why Celebrity Accounts Are So Addictive)

Letterboxd is a social platform for film lovers where you can track what you watch, write and share reviews, build lists, keep a watchlist, and follow other people to see what they’re into. In other words: it’s a movie diary with a built-in audience, and it rewards personality as much as taste.

That’s why celebrity Letterboxd accounts are catnip. You’re not just seeing “what they like,” you’re seeing how they talk when no one’s handing them a press junket prompt. Some celebs write thoughtful paragraphs. Some drop a single sentence that makes you laugh harder than the movie. Sarah Sherman is absolutely in the second categoryoften by choice, sometimes by spiritual necessity.

Meet the Account: “sarah squirm” and the Vibe of Her Movie World

Sarah’s Letterboxd handle is “sarah squirm,” and the account reads like a personal mixtape: cult favorites, horror comfort rewatches, and newer titles logged with reactions that feel like you caught her mid-cackle. Her profile also makes it clear she uses Letterboxd the way it’s meant to be used: as a living, evolving record of taste, obsessions, and “I can’t believe I just watched that” moments.

What you learn pretty quickly is that her humor doesn’t just show up in her workit’s how she processes media. She’s not trying to be a critic. She’s trying to capture the feeling of the movie in the shortest, funniest way possible.

The Funniest Sarah Sherman Letterboxd Reviews (with Commentary)

Below are some of the funniest reviews from Sarah Sherman’s Letterboxd accounteach one a tiny comedic artifact. I’m sharing short excerpts and then breaking down why they work, because the secret sauce isn’t just the joke. It’s the style: the timing, the contrast, the specificity, and the way she turns a movie into a punchline that still feels weirdly affectionate.

1) “The Mist” (2007): turning horror into a personal boundary

Her vibe: “i better not see some f***in mist around me no sir”

It’s funny because it’s not “the mist is scary.” It’s “the mist is unacceptable customer service.” She reduces cosmic dread to a very human reaction: no thank you, absolutely not, return to sender. The politeness at the end (“no sir”) is the cherry on toplike she’s filing a complaint with the universe.

2) “Nirvanna the Band the Show the Movie” (2025): joy as punctuation

Her vibe: “YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

This is the purest form of Letterboxd review: an emotional reaction you can hear. The exclamation marks do all the acting. It’s a standing ovation compressed into four letters and a keyboard smash.

3) “Weapons” (2025): fashion-based existential dread

Her vibe: “what does it mean if i literally own two of the dresses The Woman wears…”

This joke is funny because it’s intimate. She’s not reviewing plotshe’s reviewing fate. There’s a tiny panic underneath the humor: if you own the wardrobe, are you also destined for the narrative? It’s “cosmic horror,” but make it Nordstrom.

4) “Eddington” (2025): the needle-drop as a punchline

Her vibe: “FIREWORK by Katy Perry plays”

This one works because it’s cinematic. She doesn’t describe the movieshe describes the moment you’d see in a trailer when everything goes slow-motion and dramatic, except she picks a song that’s aggressively, hilariously earnest. It’s a whole parody in one stage direction.

5) “Flatliners” (1990): beauty as a plot hole

Her vibe: “no one in this movie wants julia roberts to flatline because she’s too beautiful”

She reframes the stakes as a group project where everyone’s motivation is “protect the pretty person.” It’s a joke about Hollywood logichow movies will bend reality around charisma. Also: it’s kind of sweet, which makes it even funnier.

6) “Event Horizon” (1997): calling a nightmare “cozy”

Her vibe: “annual cozy comfort rewatch”

The humor is in the contrast. “Event Horizon” is famously not a “hot cocoa” film. Calling it cozy is either deeply alarming or deeply relatable (horror fans know). It’s a deadpan flex: yes, I relax to interdimensional terror. Don’t judge me.

7) “Lifeforce” (1985): righteous outrage for a filmmaker

Her vibe: “where is tobe hooper’s star on the hollywood walk of fame??? no justice in this world…”

This is fandom as activism. It’s funny because it’s dramatic“no justice in this world”but it also feels sincere. She’s doing the comedic version of a petition, and you can almost hear her saying, “I’m not asking, I’m demanding.”

8) “Shock Treatment” (1981): cross-wiring pop culture

Her vibe: “The Valley (2025): Jax goes to ‘the facility’”

She turns the film into a completely different reference point. The joke is essentially: “I watched this and my brain filed it under reality TV chaos.” It’s a reminder that comedy taste isn’t always about “knowing cinema.” Sometimes it’s about knowing how people behave when cameras are around.

9) “28 Days Later” (2002): recurring obsession with color contacts

Her vibe: “proof that a little color contacts can go a loooong way”

The funniest part is that she’s not making a one-off jokeshe’s building a theme. “Color contacts” pop up like a running bit, which makes her Letterboxd feel like a comedy set. She’s training you to laugh at the same detail again, but differently.

10) “Salem’s Lot” (1979): doubling down on the same bit

Her vibe: “the power of color contacts alone”

Here’s the sequel to the “contacts” thesis. That repetition is part of the fun: you start noticing what she notices. A normal reviewer might talk about pacing or atmosphere. Sarah’s like, “The eyes. The eyes are doing a lot.”

11) “Mad God” (2021): hyperbole as a love letter

Her vibe: “legit more impressive than the Great Pyramids and the Mona Lisa combined”

Obviously, that’s not a measurable claim. That’s the point. She’s using the oldest comedic toolexaggerationto communicate awe. It’s a compliment so big it becomes ridiculous, and that ridiculousness becomes the praise.

12) “The Cell” (2000): defending a target with menace

Her vibe: “everybody hating on JLo needs to get sent to The Cell”

This is funny because it escalates instantly. She’s not politely disagreeing; she’s sentencing the haters to the film’s own nightmare logic. It’s protective fandom plus playful threatan internet classic.

13) “Gladiator” (2000): turning a meme into a mini-epic

Her vibe (excerpt): “men think about ancient rome every day? nope…”

She hijacks a cultural meme (“men think about Rome”) and flips it into a very specific counter-mythology about the people who saw “Gladiator” at the right age. The humor lives in the specificityespecially when she zooms in on a tiny detail (hello, hair) and crowns it as historically significant.

14) “Babygirl” (2024): the funniest possible angle

Her vibe: “it sucks to be lactose intolerant in the Time of Babygirl”

This is Sarah Sherman in a nutshell: she finds a weird, bodily, real-world inconvenience and frames it like a historical era. Not “during the release of a movie,” but “in the Time of Babygirl.” Like the film has altered the calendar and dairy is suddenly political.

15) “Flesh for Frankenstein” (1973): body-horror poetry

Her vibe: “liver… kidneys… gallbladder !!!!!”

It’s a grocery list, but make it grotesque confetti. The ellipses act like dramatic pauses. The exclamation marks turn anatomy into a celebration. It’s also a neat window into her comedic interests: she doesn’t flinch at grossnessshe throws streamers at it.

What These Reviews Reveal About Sarah Sherman’s Comedy Brain

She treats movies like prompts

Each film becomes a setup for a new angle: “What’s the funniest thing to notice here?” That’s a sketch-writing mindset. Instead of summarizing, she reframes. Instead of analyzing, she personifies. Instead of rating, she reacts.

She’s brutally simpleand that’s the craft

Writing short is hard. The best micro-reviews are basically haikus with profanity and enthusiasm. Sarah’s funniest Letterboxd reviews are tiny, but they still contain: a point of view, a surprise, and a rhythm. That’s not accidental. That’s comedic timing in text form.

She makes a “comfort zone” out of discomfort

Calling a horror film cozy. Turning gore into a joke. Treating dread like a mild inconvenience. This is classic comedy alchemy: make the scary manageable by laughing at it. It’s also why her Letterboxd feels aligned with her broader comedic stylesurreal, bodily, and strangely warm.

How to Steal This Energy (Without Copying Her)

• Pick one detail (hair, a song, a prop, a vibe) and treat it like the entire movie.
• Use contrast: call something terrifying “cozy,” call something serious “customer service.”
• Write like a person, not a critic. Your group chat voice is allowed here.
• Keep it specific: “good” is fine, “good goo” is a worldview.

Experiences: What It’s Like to Fall Into Sarah Sherman’s Letterboxd Rabbit Hole (Extra )

The first experience most people have with Sarah Sherman’s Letterboxd is surprise. You don’t expect an SNL cast member’s movie diary to feel like stumbling into a friend’s notes appexcept that friend is funnier than your entire high school. You open the page thinking you’ll find a few tasteful recommendations. Instead, you get a punchline. Then another. Then you realize you’ve been scrolling for ten minutes and you’re smiling like you just got caught watching a blooper reel at work.

There’s a very specific kind of joy in reading micro-reviews, because they let your brain participate. A long review tells you what to think. A Sarah Sherman one-liner dares you to fill in the gaps. When she writes something that’s basically a sound effect or a stage direction, you mentally build the scene. It’s interactive comedy: you’re co-writing the bit in your head, and that’s why it feels so immediate. You don’t just understand the jokeyou complete it.

Another surprisingly common experience: her Letterboxd messes with your watchlist. You’ll see her describe a movie in a way that makes it feel less like a “film” and more like an event. Suddenly, an older horror title isn’t “something you should see someday.” It’s “a cozy comfort rewatch,” which is both hilarious andif you’re the right kind of vieweroddly persuasive. Or she’ll praise a movie with such outrageous hyperbole that you think, “Okay, I have to know what inspired that sentence.” And just like that, you’ve added three strange films to your queue and you’re researching whether color contacts deserve their own Oscar category.

People also tend to notice how her entries make them feel less self-conscious about liking what they like. Her reviews don’t posture. They don’t pretend taste is a moral system. They treat enjoyment as the point. That can be freeing if you’ve ever felt the need to justify a movie preference with “well, technically…” Sarah’s energy is more like: “Did it make me feel something? Did it make me laugh? Did it make me say ‘what is happening’ in a delighted way?” If yes, then congratulationsfive stars in spirit, even if the review is just a joyful scream.

And then there’s the social side of it: reading her Letterboxd can feel like being in a movie friend group you didn’t know you wanted. You start imagining who you’d tag, what you’d quote, which friend would immediately get the reference, and which friend would text, “Should I be concerned?” It becomes a shared language. Even if you never comment, you’re participating in a cultural moment that’s half cinema and half comedy cadence. That’s the magic of a great celebrity Letterboxd account: it’s not just taste on display. It’s personality in motionlogged one movie at a time.

Eventually, the biggest experience is simple: you’ll watch movies differently. You’ll catch yourself noticing “one detail” the way she does. You’ll be tempted to review a film with a single sentence that captures the whole vibe. And even if you never write it down, you’ll feel that little switch flipthe one that turns “watching” into “playing.” That’s what makes Sarah Sherman’s Letterboxd so fun: it reminds you that movies aren’t just art to be evaluated. They’re experiences to be reacted to, laughed at, and carried around in your brain like a weird little souvenir.