Two years ago, in the sleepy town of Maybrook, Pennsylvania, something unimaginable happened. At precisely 2:17am, 17 students from Ms. Gandy’s third-grade class stood up, walked out of their homes with their arms outstretched like owls, and disappeared into the night. Their silent exit was captured only by grainy night-vision Ring camera footage—no screams, no struggle, just eerie calm. The only child left behind? Alex, who now waits alone in class each morning, hoping his friends will return.
This chilling premise sets the tone for Weapons, the latest horror mystery from writer-director Zach Cregger (Barbarian), who wastes no time plunging the audience into a vortex of dread and uncertainty. The film opens with a haunting narration by a local young girl, whose innocent voice overlays the growing tension, establishing a compelling tone that’s both disturbing and oddly nostalgic. She claims it’s all based on a true story—and whether or not that’s true is beside the point. It feels like one of those urban legends whispered at sleepovers or around schoolyard corners—strange, surreal, and unsettlingly plausible.
Weapons unfolds through six interlocking chapters, each following a different character connected to the missing children. The timeline loops and overlaps in unexpected ways, slowly unraveling the truth with carefully measured tension. Among the key figures is Justine Gandy (Julia Garner), the children’s teacher, now a pariah under scrutiny from parents and the community. Josh Brolin gives a raw, grief-stricken performance as Archer Graff, a father tormented by the loss of his son, while Benedict Wong plays Principal Andrew Marcus, a man more concerned with optics than justice. Alden Ehrenreich portrays Officer Paul Morgan, whose complicated past with Justine adds layers of emotional ambiguity to an already murky investigation.
Two additional perspectives arrive later in the film, and without spoiling anything, their contributions are integral to the film’s final, frenzied moments. It’s best to experience them fresh, their narrative weight adds crucial depth to the film’s thematic explorations of trauma, guilt, and denial.
What makes Weapons resonate isn’t just its supernatural mystery, but the flawed, painfully human characters at its core. Each one carries the scars of grief in different forms—anger, isolation, helplessness—and Cregger’s script leans into that authenticity. The film explores themes that feel uniquely American—school-based trauma, parental distrust of institutions, and the latent violence simmering under suburban facades—but their emotional reach extends far beyond US borders.
Cregger once again proves himself a master of atmosphere. His camera work is slick, disorienting, and endlessly engaging. Long takes drift around corners and under tables, heightening tension in ways that feel fresh and immersive. He often refuses to deliver the expected jump scare, instead letting dread linger just long enough to make the eventual shock land with bone-deep impact. The result is a relentless emotional experience, amplified by a nerve-rattling score that’ll linger in your bones.
As a horror film, Weapons excels at psychological unease. There are moments of stark, grounded terror—made more effective by Cregger’s decision to strip away the genre’s usual artifice. It feels real, lived-in, like something you shouldn’t be watching but can’t look away from.
That said, Weapons isn’t without missteps. When Aunt Gladys (played with unhinged flair by a nearly unrecognisable Amy Madigan) enters the narrative, the tone veers into near-camp, threatening to undo some of the meticulously built tension. While Madigan delivers a memorable performance, her scenes edge the film into exaggerated territory, potentially alienating viewers who were drawn in by the film’s grounded horror. It’s a bold tonal swing, and one that may divide audiences, especially once the film’s final act kicks into high gear.
Still, Weapons is undeniably one of the most intriguing and unsettling horror films of the year. It dares to push boundaries, both narratively and stylistically, and while its conclusion might not satisfy everyone, the journey there is too compelling to ignore.
If Barbarian was Zach Cregger’s bold arrival as a genre filmmaker, Weapons cements him as one to watch—willing to take risks, challenge conventions, and get under your skin in the process.
Weapons is in cinemas now.
