I don’t want to exaggerate a movie, but believe me: You are unprepared for *Weapons*.

I’m not suggesting that “This is the most terrifying horror film you’ll ever experience!” although writer-director Zach Cregger (*Barbarian*) provides enough shocks to leave my audience screaming. Rather, *Weapons* is an astonishingly unexpected film. Whatever your assumptions about what it will reveal, you likely won’t be ready for its actual content.

**What is *Weapons* about?**

A young girl’s (Scarlett Sher) opening narration sets the eerie tone of *Weapons*. One night, at 2:17 a.m., 17 kids from the same third-grade class at Maybrook Elementary fled their homes, arms wide open, never to return. Only one child, Alex (Cary Christopher), is left.

The picture of the children rushing into the void is haunting, especially when paired with Sher’s straightforward narration recounting the tale two years on. Cregger enriches her speech with fillers like “I guess” and “like that,” immersing you in the moment as she relays a story clearly known within the community it affected.

This community becomes the central theme of *Weapons*, which divides its narrative across various non-linear viewpoints, featuring Justine (Julia Garner), the teacher of the missing children, and Archer (Josh Brolin), the father of one of the vanished kids.

**Weapons narrates a pertinent tale of a community in turmoil.**

Both Justine and Archer are fixated on the disappearances to the point of obsession. Justine persistently seeks to reach out to Alex, despite Maybrook Elementary Principal Marcus (Benedict Wong) prohibiting her from doing so. He argues that she’s prioritizing herself and disregarding Alex’s suffering. At the same time, Archer bothers other anxious parents for updates about the night their children vanished, even if they’re reluctant to revisit that grief. He and Justine relentlessly dig at open wounds in their quest for answers, which spirals into the wider community of Maybrook.

The sense of collective sorrow in Maybrook over the loss of 17 children evokes memories of the aftermath of school shootings, tragedies that happen far too often in the U.S. If the ominous title *Weapons* isn’t enough of a connection, Cregger further emphasizes this link through surreal gun imagery and the poignant visual of a makeshift memorial for the children stationed outside Maybrook Elementary. The memorial’s message of “Maybrook strong” resonates with replies to other U.S. school shootings, like “Uvalde strong” and “MSD strong.”

With *Weapons*, Cregger also addresses larger concerns surrounding parental roles in the American education system. The Maybrook parents, including Archer, swiftly blame Justine. They question what harmful influence she had in her classroom that could lead to their children disappearing. Their fearmongering about Justine alludes to real-life debates about parental authority over their children’s education, often leveraged to promote conservative agendas seeking to eliminate discussions about race, sexual orientation, or gender identity.

These are complex themes, which Cregger explores in the first half of the film. Nonetheless, *Weapons*’ exploration of grief is far from bleak. After all, we’re discussing Cregger, the individual who delivered the occasionally humorous, often gory, always twisty *Barbarian*. He infuses those same elements into *Weapons*, crafting a true horror thrill ride.

**Weapons’ frights and twists are shocking — and immensely entertaining.**

Through the diverse perspectives in *Weapons*, Cregger weaves a multi-layered narrative where each new viewpoint contributes additional depth and context to the story. (Cregger has mentioned Paul Thomas Anderson’s *Magnolia* as a source of inspiration for the film, and there are elements of *Rashomon* in the structure as well.) Each new angle performs the essential task of expanding the town of Maybrook, but they also guide *Weapons* in continually surprising directions. Recall how *Barbarian* switched from a terrifying monster sequence in a dark basement to Justin Long driving happily along the California coast? *Weapons* executes that type of transition multiple times, with each instance more disorienting than the prior one. And don’t just take my word for it. Listen to the woman in my theater who yelped every time Cregger introduced a new viewpoint.

Each fresh perspective introduces a distinctive kind of fear. Given that Justine resides alone in a spacious house and keeps receiving menacing messages, her opening segment feels akin to a slasher film, where a deadly stalker could pounce at any moment. A portion of the film centered on policeman Paul (Alden Ehrenreich) comes across as more grounded.