Weapons Review (2025) Cregger Loads the Chamber and Pulls the Trigger on Terror

Zach Cregger’s follow-up to Barbarian isn’t just another horror film—it’s a masterclass in slow-burn tension, narrative experimentation, and emotional gut punches. From the first frame, Weapons grips you with an unnerving sense that something is deeply wrong in the quiet, seemingly safe town of Maybrook.

The story detonates with a single moment: the disappearance of 17 children at exactly 2:17 a.m. Only one boy, Alex, is found—traumatized, silent, and seemingly unwilling to reveal the truth. From there, Cregger unfolds the mystery in an anthology-like structure, splitting the film into interwoven chapters told from different perspectives: a weary teacher burdened by guilt, a father hollowed out by grief, a community leader masking something sinister. Each chapter reframes events, revealing new, chilling layers while tightening the noose of suspense.

Performances That Pierce

The cast is uniformly excellent. Julia Garner brings an understated ferocity to Justine Gandy, a teacher haunted by what she might have missed. Every flicker in her eyes suggests guilt fighting with denial. Josh Brolin’s turn as a grief-stricken father is raw and deeply human—his portrayal of a man unraveling under the weight of loss is one of the most grounded performances in recent horror. But it’s Amy Madigan who nearly steals the film as Gladys, a seemingly gentle neighbor whose warm smile masks a cold, calculated menace. Her scenes are a masterclass in subtle intimidation.

Atmosphere & Visual Style

The cinematography is a haunting blend of Americana nostalgia and creeping dread. Sunlit suburban streets feel sterile and unnatural, while nighttime sequences hum with grainy unease. Cregger and his team use framing to trap characters in visual boxes—doorways, fences, shadows—underscoring the sense that they’re all caged animals in a town-sized experiment.

The sound design and score are equally meticulous. The original music, co-created with the Holladay brothers, builds in low, throbbing pulses that seep into the audience’s nervous system. Ambient noises—a dripping faucet, a far-off swing creaking—become almost unbearable in their suggestion of unseen danger.

The Climax

Without spoiling too much, the third act takes a hard turn into supernatural territory, revealing the true nature of the children’s disappearance. The final sequence—where the missing children exact horrific, almost ritualistic revenge on their abuser—is one of the most visually and emotionally jarring set pieces in recent memory. It’s both shocking and strangely cathartic, filmed with an unflinching eye that refuses to look away from the carnage. The brutality isn’t gratuitous; it’s tied directly to the film’s thematic backbone of cycles—violence begetting violence, sins being paid in blood.

The Flaws

While the supernatural pivot is bold, it slightly undercuts the first two acts’ tightly wound mystery. Some characters—particularly those in the secondary chapters—could have benefited from deeper motivation or more backstory to match the depth given to the main trio. And a few viewers may find the ending’s surrealism jarring after such a grounded buildup.

Final Verdict

Weapons is a rare blend of horror that’s both intellectually and viscerally satisfying. It demands patience from the audience but rewards it with a layered, morally complex narrative and moments of jaw-dropping tension. It’s the kind of movie that lingers—not just in your mind, but in your bones.

Score: 9/10 — Disturbing, ambitious, and executed with razor-sharp precision. Cregger cements his place as one of horror’s most daring modern voices.