Weapons (2025) is written & directed by Zach Cregger. It stars Julia Garner, Josh Brolin, Alden Ehrenreich, Austin Abrams, Benedict Wong, Amy Madigan, Cary Christopher, Toby Huss, June Diane Raphael, Whitmer Thomas, Callie Schuttera, Luke Speakman, Sara Paxton, Clayton Farris, Carrie Gibson, Scarlett Sher, and Justin Long. The film takes place in the town of Maybrook, Pennsylvania, 1 month after 17 children from the same third-grade class woke up at exactly 2:17 am, ran out into the darkness, and never returned. Frustrated by the lack of answers, Archer (Brolin), a grieving father, begins to direct his suspicions toward his missing son’s troubled teacher, Justine Gandy (Garner). Experiencing severe survivor’s guilt, Justine desperately tries to contact the only student in her class who didn’t disappear, young Alex Lilly (Christopher). This causes her to cross paths with her ex-lover, Paul Morgan (Ehrenreich), a police officer who finds himself in hot water after arresting local methhead, James (Abrams). As perspectives shift between Archer, Justine, Paul, and a few others, the mystery of the missing children slowly unfolds, leading to answers darker than any of them could’ve possibly imagined. 

Of all the things that work about Weapons (and there’s a lot that does), it’s the characters that stand out. Like Justin Long’s character in Cregger’s previous film, Barbarian (2022), the characters in Weapons are deeply flawed in challenging, uncomfortable ways. That being said, Justin Long in Barbarian is a character we’re meant to dislike and even judge unfavorably on a moral level. The characters in Weapons aren’t so easily evaluated in terms of morality, which supports the feeling that none of them are safe. Cregger toes a line, creating characters who are neither so moral that they deserve to live nor so irredeemable that they deserve to die. Even James, a drug addict character who could’ve easily been exhausting and disposable, is palatable due to the natural comedy generated at his expense. 

The trio of Brolin, Ehrenreich, and Garner all give fantastic performances, but there isn’t one that stands tall above the others. I don’t mean this as a knock; I just mean that the film’s focus is exceptionally balanced. Between these three characters and a handful of others, it truly delivers on the promise of a Magnolia (1999)-style experience. The unconventional story structure, including how the characters and their various plot lines intersect, is the true star of the show. If the film had adopted a more traditional, chronological form of storytelling, it would still be fun, but not nearly as engaging or memorable. It’s a structure that forces the viewer to ask questions constantly, but never feels like a chore due to the near-perfect pace. With each new question raised, a previous one is answered. Cregger understands that ‘mystery’ is one of the more effective ways to engage an audience, but also understands that keeping it too vague for too long will only make them check out. Cregger effectively balances this by slowly offering little slivers of information that, on their own, don’t exactly tell us much, but act as small pieces of a much larger puzzle. In other words, each new snippet of information gives us further insight into the nature of the children’s disappearance, but not so much that it becomes obvious. Cregger makes sure never to add information that further complicates the mystery; It’s not necessary. He seems to want us to solve the case, which only makes the fact that the surprises work infinitely more impressive. 

I’m slightly mixed on Cregger’s decision to reveal the nature of the children’s disappearance before the film’s climax. On the one hand, it’s impressive in the sense that he reveals this information moments before the audience would’ve figured it out on their own. This helps maintain the reveal’s intended shock factor and allows the climax to focus solely on creating a satisfying resolution. 

On the other hand, this eliminates any opportunities to surprise or scare the audience in its final moments. Thankfully, this climax ultimately still works because Cregger chooses to inject it with the unexpected, almost comically ironic sense of catharsis he established at the end of Barbarian. Instead of giving us a more traditional ending that either resolves the story happily or doubles down on the horror, Cregger delivers something intended to make the audience cheer. His climaxes provide all the blood and gore horror endings typically should, but make the victim someone who deserves it. This sort of satisfying, poetic comeuppance is so cathartic that it almost causes you to laugh, but it’s also not so funny that it breaks your immersion. 

One of the more prominent issues people will inevitably have with the film is that it’s unafraid of being ‘laugh-out-loud” funny. I understand the worry that too much comedy could handcuff the script’s horror elements, but I never once thought its humor was out of place. It’s all situational comedy that realistically fits the characters and scenarios. Horror films that are too serious about their mission to scare the audience often maintain a more consistent tone, but sacrifice realism. The real world, even amid terrible situations, contains equal levels of horror and humor. I suspect that Cregger didn’t even intend for a lot of this to be humorous; I just think the way he sees the world is inherently comical. This doesn’t mean he’s unserious about the story and its characters; It’s just that he’s simply unafraid of presenting the inherent, humorous absurdity of human behavior. 

Overall, this is one of the more original and well-executed horror films released in recent years, proving that writer/director Zach Cregger’s first film, Barbarian, wasn’t just some kind of fluke. With this film, he firmly establishes his unique identity as a storyteller. He’s created a script that’s wonderfully engaging, featuring compelling original characters and a story with an irresistible yet accessible central hook. His blend of humor and intensity is also one-of-a-kind. We’ve seen horror-comedies countless times before, but rarely ones with a tone so balanced that the only way to describe it is ‘authentic.’ A movie with this much praise is sure to attract naysayers who want to dismiss it with phrases like “It’s not THAT good” (implying that it is, in fact, good), but I suspect those aren’t the type of people who respond well to unfamiliar experiences in general. If you’re a fan of original art, Weapons is a tough film not to enjoy (or at least respect), especially if you adore the genre. Even after seeing it a second time, I can say that it holds up—surprises or not. A-