Quince (Fifteen) // Tell me more, bro: A SXSW Review

Quince (aka Fifteen) premiered at SXSW 2026 in grand fashion. Starring Macarena Oz and Greta Martí, the comedy horror showcases the acting skills of the two young actresses owning their lead roles. Quince allows them to shine in the chaos that is center stage. In the movie, Ligia (Martí) and Mayte (Oz) are best friends counting down to their own quincañeras as they view their classmates’ quinces from the sidelines. Growing resentment and social pressures, though, soon begin to crush their spirits and disrupt their lives. 

Another male voice

When did it become such a mainstay for men to tell women’s stories? Or in this case, the young girl’s story. Directors Jack Zagha and Yossy Zagha sought to transform a screenplay written by two men, Andrzej Rattinger and Ricardo Álvarez Canales, into some sort of coming of age “monster” piece. Instead, they managed to make women (or should I say girls) look as though we’re nothing but a monolith of jealousy and hormones.

There’s kind of an unspoken rule in horror. You check your disbelief at the door and let the film take the lead. That’s part of what makes horror so fun. It can get downright ridiculous, but it’s still a good time. But suspension of disbelief isn’t a blank check for sloppy storytelling. Give me something to latch onto. Or at the very least, give me something compelling enough that I’d text my sister about it before the credits roll. Horror is a playground where filmmakers can invent their own rules and ask us to follow along. But even chaos needs a framework. Quince acts like it knows the assignment, but then fails to deliver in the end. 

The problem with men attempting to tackle body horror from a young girl’s perspective is…That’s it, that’s the entire statement. Okay, I’ll be fair. Do I feel that someone of the opposite gender can tell somebody else’s uniquely gendered experience? I really do feel it’s hugely dependent on the relationship between the story and the storyteller. Sure, in this case it’s horror. And horror movies can and do have purpose and meaning. It’s up to the storyteller to tell that story in a meaningful way. In this case, the characters are depicted as 14 year old girls, though, and four men chose to tell that story for a reason.

Quince follows Mayte as her best friend, Ligia navigates a troublesome pregnancy. Questionable consent and a jarringly unnecessary underage sex scene later, and the film sprints into the kind of logic that only exists to usher in a monster’s birth. Its worldview is far from complex. Women are ruled by hormones, women get pregnant, and women get jealous. That’s the rulebook, apparently. And to its credit, Quince sticks to these rules with almost stubborn consistency. But consistency alone doesn’t make a movie. Here, it only serves to frustrate the viewer. 

RSVP Yes or No

If Quince had a saving grace, it’d be in the performances of Macarena Oz and Greta Martí. It almost feels as though they’ve stumbled in from a different and much better script altogether. I applaud their talent. Sadly, I cannot do the same for the movie. This is one I’d tell my sister to skip without hesitation.