Zach Cregger made his name in horror with Barbarian (2022), a film that subverted expectations with its tonal whiplash and structural gambles. With Weapons (2025), he takes a bolder leap: a sprawling, six-chapter horror-mystery that trades jump scares for slow-burn dread, suburban gothic imagery, and a story about how fear corrodes communities. It is a film that wants to be both myth and metaphor, both crime drama and supernatural horror. The result is a divisive but deeply haunting experience.
A Puzzle Told in Fractures
The inciting incident is simple yet horrifying: seventeen children disappear from their small town in the middle of the night, at exactly 2:17 a.m. Only one child, Alex, remains. From there, Weapons fractures into six chapters, each seen through the eyes of different townspeople—a jittery teacher (Julia Garner), a guilt-ridden cop (Alden Ehrenreich), a weary father (Josh Brolin), and others whose lives orbit the mystery.
This structure invites comparison to Kurosawa’s Rashomon or even the fragmented dread of Magnolia. Each chapter doesn’t merely add information; it reshapes what we think we know. What begins as a possible social-commentary mystery—did video games, TikTok, or predatory adults lure the children away?—slips into something more folkloric and uncanny. By the time the real antagonist reveals herself, the genre has shifted from small-town procedural into suburban dark fantasy.
Gladys: A Horror Villain for the Ages
The villain is not a masked killer or a cult but Gladys (Amy Madigan), a seemingly harmless older woman who harbors a grotesque secret. With a perpetual smile and grandmotherly warmth, she is a parasite feeding on the life force of children through blood magic. She is witch, vampire, and addict rolled into one—a monster who feels drawn from both folklore and the grim realities of generational trauma.
Madigan’s performance is the film’s revelation. She plays Gladys with a cheery lilt that tips into menace without ever breaking character. The final chapters belong to her, cementing Gladys as one of the most chilling horror antagonists in years. Her magic is undone by Alex, the lone child who resists her control, and in the climactic sequence the children turn on her with primal vengeance. It is horrifying, cathartic, and unforgettable—the kind of scene destined to be dissected in horror scholarship for years.
Themes of Community, Trauma, and Childhood Agency
Where Barbarian focused on the dangers lurking inside the architecture of the home, Weapons expands its gaze to the town itself. What happens to a community when its most vulnerable members vanish? The film suggests that fear breeds suspicion, turning parents against teachers, neighbors against neighbors, and even family members against each other.
Thematically, Cregger uses horror to explore adult failure—the inability of institutions, families, and authority figures to protect children. Gladys, then, is more than a monster: she is a stand-in for cycles of abuse, addiction, and selfishness passed down through generations. When the children finally destroy her, the film leaves us with an uneasy catharsis. Some of the kids speak again, but others remain locked in trauma. Alex’s parents survive, but catatonic. Victory does not mean restoration.
This duality is central to the film’s impact. It is at once a feel-bad horror story and a strange feel-good tale of reclamation, leaving audiences unsure whether to leave the theater with relief or despair.
Style and Atmosphere
Visually, Weapons is stunning. Cinematographer Larkin Seiple frames the suburban setting with a mix of naturalism and unease—cul-de-sacs glow too brightly, kitchens feel cavernous, and night scenes are rich with shadows that seem to breathe. The editing creates a rhythm of disorientation: cliffhanger endings give way to new perspectives, forcing the audience to constantly recalibrate.
Cregger also sprinkles in moments of pitch-black humor, though they are subtler than in Barbarian. These tonal shifts keep the audience off-balance. Combined with the eerie sound design and Madigan’s unsettling performance, the film sustains a slow-rolling sense of dread rather than cheap jump scares.
Performances that Ground the Surreal
Julia Garner gives the film its emotional anchor as Justine, the teacher who blames herself for the disappearance of her students. She plays Justine with a quiet desperation that makes the supernatural twists feel emotionally grounded. Josh Brolin brings bruised gravitas as a father whose grief curdles into paranoia, while Alden Ehrenreich’s corrupt cop is both repulsive and oddly sympathetic.
But the film belongs to Amy Madigan. Her Gladys is the kind of villain that horror cinema rarely produces anymore: not merely a threat to be defeated, but a character who embodies cultural anxieties. Like Freddy Krueger or Annie Wilkes, she is both specific and symbolic.
Reception and Critique
Critics have been sharply divided. Many hail Weapons as a masterpiece, praising its ambition, atmosphere, and originality. David Sims of The Atlantic went so far as to call it “a horror film that leaps beyond its genre without abandoning its sick, sad heart.” Others, however, have criticized the film for prioritizing atmosphere and theme over narrative logic. The Guardian dismissed it as “a bumpy ride” weighed down by a simplistic script.
This division speaks to the film’s core gamble. Its chapter-based structure and allegorical villain invite interpretation, but they also risk alienating viewers who want clearer explanations. In this way, Weapons is less of a straightforward horror experience and more of a cinematic provocation—one that demands its audience wrestle with ambiguity.
Final Thoughts
Weapons is not a film designed to please everyone. It is messy, ambitious, and at times frustratingly opaque. But it is also daring, visually striking, and thematically resonant. Cregger has made a horror film that lingers—not because of jump scares, but because of its ideas and its willingness to peer into the darker corners of suburban life.
For those willing to give themselves over to its rhythms, Weapons offers one of the most original and unsettling horror experiences of the decade. It is a film about children, but not for them; a story of survival that refuses to equate survival with healing; and above all, a cinematic reminder that monsters are not always strangers lurking in the woods. Sometimes, they are the neighbors who smile too sweetly from across the picket fence.