'Weapons' Review

Zach Cregger's sophomore solo directorial effort is an extremely personal and boldly original horror feature

At 2:17 in the morning, a whole class of children runs out their front door and are never seen again.

This is the disturbingly simple, yet immediately fixating premise of Zach Cregger’s sophomore horror feature Weapons. To know much more would spoil the twisty (and twisted) fun that unleashes throughout the runtime.

At 2:07 in the morning exactly four years before this film’s release date, comedian Trevor Moore drunkenly fell off a balcony and died. He was 41. Moore, Cregger, and three others founded the comedy troupe Whitest Kids U’ Know, who would star in a sketch comedy show of the same name that has only gained in appreciation since its conclusion in 2011.

Weapons is about how a community and the individuals that make it up deal with an unspeakable tragedy. Cregger, who writes and directs, never fully pins down exactly what kind of tragedy. For him, it may be the death of his close friend, but the film also alludes in varying levels of obviousness to school shootings, abuse, the opioid epidemic and police brutality.

Told in an episodic structure exploring an ensemble of characters a la confirmed influence Magnolia (1999), the audience is brought into not only the pain and anger resulting from mass tragedy, but the relational and systemic dynamics that exacerbate and calm things. In fact, the scariest part of this film is often watching the characters make profoundly poor decisions out of desperation.

And yet despite all the heavy subjects at the heart of Weapons, it can also be bewilderingly hilarious. My theater was full of swears of disbelief at just about every turn. For those who have seen Barbarian, you can probably guess the extent of absurdity Cregger is willing to go, even in the darkest of moments.

The ensemble does a great job of narrowly walking a difficult tonal tightrope. Julia Garner, as the teacher of the class that goes missing, is particularly incredible and effortlessly goes from caring meekness to volatile intensity. Austin Abrams is also a comedic highlight as a heroin-addicted homeless man intersecting with the other characters. Josh Brolin, Alden Ehrenreich, Benedict Wong, Cary Christopher, Toby Huss, and a Kathryn Hunter-channeling Amy Madigan round out the cast.

In terms of faith application, there is not much. There is an occult element to the plot, although it seemed to be relatively original to this film rather than pulled from any tradition I am aware of (which, to be fair, is not many). Just like Barbarian, the violence is extreme. Characters also just make a lot of poor decisions as I said before, including sexually. The film does not glorify any of these things and actively frowns on them.

Weapons did leave me personally feeling a little unsatisfied. The direction, acting, editing, cinematography, and on are all great. Yet, I am admittedly undecided on whether the sum is greater than the parts. I cannot quite put my finger on what it is, but Barbarian gave me the same feeling. As much emotional valence both personal to Cregger and societal as there is here, I am not fully convinced that the whole project in light of its resolution has much to say about the issues it explores beyond their extremity and a catharsis from it. The conclusion is also a little too abrupt, even if it makes sense from a narrative and thematic standpoint. A rewatch may sort this out for me. It does not help that some of the themes explored here were done better just last month in Eddington. At the end of the day, though, it does not need to be Bergman.

With that aside, Weapons is likely to be a win for any fan of weird horror. If you can handle and are okay with graphic horror violence, it comes highly recommended, especially in the theater. Witnessing everything unfold in a crowded theater is an all-time communal experience.