Movie Review: Weapons (2025)

A small Midwestern town. A warm summer night. At precisely 2:17 a.m., 17 third-graders vanish without a trace.

This is the grim setup of Weapons, the newest psychological horror from Zach Cregger, best known for 2022’s Barbarian and his most ambitious, unnerving work to date. But if you’re expecting jump scares and gore, you’re in the wrong theatre. Weapons is something far more methodical, and far more haunting.

The film is structured as a fragmented narrative reminiscent of Rashomon, eschewing a linear storyline in favor of spiraling and shifting perspectives. It begins with the chaos of the children's disappearance and gradually delves into the emotional, societal, and deeply personal aftermath. We meet a grieving father (Josh Brolin, weathered and excellent), a reeling teacher (Julia Garner, brittle and sharp-edged), a panicked cop (Alden Ehrenreich), and a drug dealer who seems to know more than he reveals (Austin Abrams). Each character revisits the night from a different viewpoint. The truth? Fractured. The aftermath? Catastrophic.

Cregger doesn't offer simple solutions, which adds to the unsettling nature of Weapons. The mystery lies not only in what happened but also in why, and in what it reveals about the societal decay lurking beneath a perfectly manicured suburban lawn. His script sharply comments on performative grief, community paranoia, and the disturbing way society avoids confronting collective trauma.

Visually, the film leans hard into contrast: warm, over-lit kitchens that feel sterile; quiet school corridors that throb with menace. Cinematographer Eli Born plays with light like a scalpel cutting through the everyday to expose something raw. It’s often in broad daylight that the most disturbing moments hit. One particular scene, in a sunlit garage, is more nerve-shredding than any haunted basement cliché.

And then there's the sound design: minimal, unnerving, often silent. The absence of score in key scenes forces you to lean in, and that’s when it strikes.

However, Weapons showcases a captivating atmosphere and bold narrative choices. The film presents a diverse array of characters, each bringing their unique perspectives, which enriches the overall experience. While some storylines may leave viewers wanting more, this diversity adds to the film's intriguing complexity. The ambitious nature of the project is commendable, as it pushes creative boundaries and invites viewers to engage with the material on a deeper level. The conclusion, with its abstract qualities, encourages thoughtful reflection and invites audiences to interpret the themes in their way. Ultimately, the film beautifully illustrates that the essence of horror often lies in the unknown, making the journey all the more compelling.

Nonetheless, Weapons represents a precise, subtle shift in the horror genre. It doesn't scream—it murmurs, gradually unsettling you from within. This film stays with you, leaving you to ponder its elements days after viewing.

This isn’t horror for the faint-hearted, nor for those looking for neat catharsis. But for those willing to sit with the unease, Weapons delivers something far more memorable: dread with intelligence, mystery without spoon-feeding, and a mirror to our darkest instincts.

RATING: 4/5 A bold, fractured, and quietly brutal psychological horror that cements Zach Cregger as one of the most daring genre filmmakers working today.

Image courtesy of Warner Bros. Pictures