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As the years accumulate in my time as a horror critic, Iβm growing unwillingly jaded when it comes to my ability to be surprised by the genre. So, when a film like Weapons springs from the shadows and has me screaming at the screen, cackling nervously, and genuinely stressed from start to finish, I canβt help but consider it something of a (bad) miracle.
Like filmmaker Zach Creggerβs previous effort, Barbarian, Weapons is joyously cruel, constantly surprising, brutally funny, and 100% cursed from top to bottom. However, where Barbarian felt like three separate films laminated together, this one is impressively unified. Even with some familiar chapter-based storytelling, it manages to deliver a single, coherent nightmare. This structure couldβve come off as gimmicky in lesser hands, but Cregger uses it with precision to amplify dread, tension, and emotional investment, one carefully calibrated segment at a time.
Weapons offers a multi-perspective horror narrative that spirals around a chilling central mystery: the sudden disappearance of 17 schoolchildren in a quiet American town, all of whom left their beds at exactly 2:17 AM. As grief, suspicion, and paranoia ripple through the community, the film follows a series of seemingly disconnected characters whose stories gradually reveal a sinister and interconnected truth. With each chapter, the dread deepens, building toward a shocking, genre-defying climax unlike anything Iβve ever seen on screen in my life.
Justine, played by Julia Garner (Wolf Man, Ozark), sits at the center of the townβs maddening tragedy. Each of the missing children was part of her middle school classroom, leaving her the ire of confused parents and a community struggling to make sense of the pieces. Archer, played by a pitch-perfectly bewildered Josh Brolin (No Country for Old Men), is the father of one of the missing children, and heβs blindingly dedicated to uncovering the truth, no matter the cost. Alden Ehrenreich (Solo) and Benedict Wong (Doctor Strange) also play key citizens of Maybrookβa cop and school principal, respectively.
In the lanky, jagged shadow of Barbarian, I went into Weapons expecting sharp turns. And I got them. But what I didnβt expect was how emotionally wrecked Iβd be by the end of things. The story finds its footing through the intersecting lives of characters like Justine and Archer, but itβs the dynamic between young Alex and his grotesque aunt Gladys that truly elevates this film into dimensions previously unseen. Their scenes are electricβunnerving, tender, and sadistically playful. Cary Christopher, as Alex, is just phenomenal. His performance even moved me to tears during a quiet but powerful moment of reconciliation. And letβs face facts, itβs becoming increasingly rare for a horror film to tackle childhood trauma with such originality, effectiveness, and authenticity.
Iβm well aware a lot of people have been raving about Bring Her Back, a recent horror release with a number of similar themesβlike kids in peril and a very specific supernatural trope that Iβll leave unnamed for the sake of spoilers. Where I found the roots of that film to be dour and recycled, Weapons, on the other hand, gave me everything I want from its menu of classic horror tropes: confidence, cruelty, and a bold refusal to hand-hold. Thereβs no over-explaining. No drawn-out exposition dumps. Just a filmmaker trusting his audience to keep up.
Itβs important for me to pause here, specifically, to mention that Amy Madigan as Gladys is absolutely terrifying in this movie. She delivers an oddly classical performanceβlike she willed her way out of some grotesque Grimm fairytale and wandered right into Creggerβs world. Sheβs arch and operatic, but never campy. Cary Christopher, again, is astonishing alongside her on their shared path to hell. And June Diane Raphael? Criminally underused. What she does with her limited screen time is nothing short of brilliant. I wish she had an entire chapter to herself. Weapons 2, when?
This is a perfect or near-perfect film. Still, as a queer viewer, I couldnβt ignore how Weapons treats its two queer charactersβespecially considering one of them is also its only significant non-white character. Their death scenes were among the filmβs most grotesque and prolonged acts of violence by a mile. I understand this wasnβt likely intentional, but it still left me feeling a little wounded. In an era where mainstream queer representation is becoming more and more scarce, the optics here stung. It echoed a kind of old-school βbury your gaysβ punishment which I couldnβt shake.
Stillβbrutal, shocking, original, and grotesquely funny all at onceβWeapons is a goddamn gift to cinema. Cregger has cemented himself as one of the most exciting voices in genre storytelling today with this one. Itβs original. Itβs batshit crazy. And itβs a rare gift to still feel surprised as a genre journalist these days. This is exactly why I love horrorβ¦ or whatever the hell this film is.