When the clock strikes 2:17 a.m. in Zach Cregger’s latest horror film, Weapons, an entire classroom of 17 children vanishes, leaving behind only their bewildered teacher and a single, traumatized boy named Alex. Released on August 10, 2025, the movie has quickly ignited fervent discussion, not just for its gut-churning scares but for its layered symbolism and emotional depth—a rare feat in a genre often accused of prioritizing shock over substance, as noted by Screen Rant and The New York Times.
At the center of the story is Justine Gandy (Julia Garner), a teacher whose life is upended when her students disappear in the dead of night. The only child left is Alex (Cary Christopher), who, as the film slowly reveals, has survived not by luck but by compliance: he was coerced by the witch Gladys (Amy Madigan) to steal personal items from his classmates for a sinister ritual. This chilling premise forms the backbone of a narrative that, according to Yahoo, struck a raw nerve with its cast and viewers alike.
Josh Brolin, who plays Archer—the father of one of the missing children—initially hesitated to join the project. “There’s nothing about me that wanted to do a film like this,” Brolin confessed in an interview with Yahoo. “Nothing ... other than maybe the selfishness of working with a great director.” Despite his decades-long career in roles that plumb the depths of human pain and fate, Brolin admitted that the premise of Weapons—children in peril—was his “absolute living nightmare.” As a real-life father of four, the story’s emotional stakes hit close to home, making it a uniquely personal project for him.
Yet Brolin couldn’t shake the script from his mind. After consulting his daughter Eden, who praised Cregger’s earlier film Barbarian, and reflecting on the script’s unusual depth, he signed on. “There was all this depth where there shouldn’t have been in the horror genre, which is usually very cosmetic and reactive,” Brolin observed. The character of Archer, a blue-collar everyman crumbling under the weight of his son’s disappearance, gave Brolin space to explore themes of masculinity, grief, and vulnerability—subjects rarely given such serious treatment in horror. “It’s nice to see him kind of break,” Brolin said. “I thought it was a good challenge and allowed me to focus on something else other than what happened to the kids.”
Director Zach Cregger, whose previous film Barbarian earned cult status for its nerve-shredding suspense, once again demonstrates his knack for building dread by “deploying a classic approach to freaking out audiences by suggesting the very worst and delaying the reveal,” as The New York Times put it. In Weapons, Cregger paces his scares with a patience rarely seen in modern horror, letting tension simmer as the mystery unspools through a chapter-based structure. Each chapter follows a different character, with camerawork and style adapting to their unique perspectives—a creative decision that earned praise from critics for its inventiveness and narrative clarity.
The film’s antagonist, Gladys, is no ordinary witch. With her garish appearance—a copper red wig and vintage ’70s attire—she’s both a throwback to classic cinematic hags and a uniquely unsettling presence. Gladys’s method of control is swift and brutal: with a snap of a twig entwined with hair, she can turn her victims into assassins, forcing them to do her bidding. One of the film’s most disturbing scenes, as described by The New York Times, features Alex’s parents violently harming themselves while under Gladys’s spell. The horror here is not just supernatural but deeply psychological, forcing both characters and viewers to confront the limits of agency and the horror of losing control.
As the story barrels toward its climax, Justine and Alex confront Gladys in a desperate showdown at Alex’s home. The children, freed from the witch’s grip thanks to a lock of Justine’s hair, turn on their tormentor in a frenzy, tearing her apart in a scene that is as cathartic as it is horrifying. Yet the film refuses easy resolution. The final shot—a lingering close-up of a child’s eyes—hints at lingering trauma, suggesting that some wounds may never fully heal. According to Screen Rant, this ambiguity is intentional, symbolizing the lasting impact of adult selfishness and indifference, and the ways in which children bear the brunt of adult failings.
Critics have noted that while Weapons is, at its core, a horror film, it is also a meditation on grief, community, and the futility of trying to reverse tragedy. As one reviewer wrote, “The beauty of Weapons is that through grief, it shows how the actions we may take to make ourselves feel better ultimately don’t change the tragedy that took place.” The film’s structure—unfolding in chapters and shifting perspectives—mirrors the fragmented, often chaotic nature of collective trauma and communal mourning. It’s a sprawling narrative, one that, as The New York Times pointed out, would make even Paul Thomas Anderson “shout amen.”
Some viewers and critics have speculated that the film’s allusions to violence, ritual, and possession might serve as allegories for contemporary social issues—school shootings, childhood trauma, or the pressures children face in modern society. However, Cregger himself has denied any direct allegorical intent, preferring to let the film’s unsettling images and unresolved questions linger in the audience’s mind. “It’s a final act that takes the film into a completely different direction as expected,” noted one critic, “and while it still provides good scares and is overall still thoroughly entertaining, it takes a drastic change with its tone and no longer feels like the movie it was at the beginning.”
Despite its divisive ending, Weapons has been lauded for its boldness and willingness to take risks. “It’s the type of horror film you get once a decade; it’s a bold, risky movie, and for that Zach Cregger deserves a round of applause as he continues to break the boundaries of what the horror genre is capable of,” a reviewer wrote. Brolin, who also served as an executive producer, echoed this sentiment, praising Cregger’s emotional investment and visionary approach: “You’re always hoping for that. And it turns out that it’s absolutely the case—[Cregger’s] truly a visionary.”
In a year crowded with horror releases, Weapons stands out not just for its scares, but for its refusal to provide easy answers. It’s a film that lingers, haunting viewers long after the credits roll, and one that may well be remembered as a turning point for the genre—a story that dared to suggest that some horrors can’t be banished, only endured.
