'Weapons' briefing

3 (out of 4)

          Weapons just happens to be wielded by one of The Whitest Kids U' Know, Zack Cregger, who already took his first shot as a filmmaker (if you ignore 2009’s Miss March like he may prefer) with 2022’s slyly feminist, nicely balanced horror-comedy #metoo monster movie Barbarian. He reinforced a never-ending trend of horror as the go-to genre for humble debuts but unlike other comedy troupes like the Lonely Island guys (carrying on the ZAZ torch in Naked Gun), Cregger cements the fact that scandalous sketch comedy backgrounds don’t have to define us — he’s all too similar to Jordan Peele, who was allegedly so upset his production company Monkeypaw lost a bidding war over the script of Weapons to New Line he later let go of his management team.

Nevertheless, I relish the mystery-turned-mayhem pandora’s box of Barbarian’s scary, riotous, and perhaps slightly too sanctimonious script… To me Weapons appeared to imply some sort of school shooter angle just from the essence of its title, posters and indelible hook — namely vanishing children, like a bleached out Picnic at Hanging Rock with a supernatural edge so as to not leave the audience with simply the terror of the unexplainable. It’s on the nose to the point of giant rifles silhouetted by lightning over a dream sky… geez its only for the best Creggar doesn’t get too political, or force us to swallow one too many dark magic pills like something more stylish but just as plainly frustrating as Longlegs last summer.

No, the movie falls into this crazy genre corner, the foundation of which is Rashomon for its many-sided perspective of pivotal simultaneous events — the flow between all six vantages of the small town hysterics and witchcraft make the movie’s mode one of constant reinvention, like several non-anthological short films were sandwiched togetehr from the same narrative ingredients, with perplexity and payoff in bizarre sidestep. Modern classics like Pulp Fiction, Hero, and particularly The Handmaiden play with the shifting subjectivity masterfully, whereas I can be spared the crude laziness of Vantage Point, self-important early Alejandro Iñárritu movies or hell, Hoodwinked!? This movie’s internal logic is not sound (with a fraction of the information, Josh Brolin’s character figures out what the police collectively should have in no time, let alone a month of nada) but each section breathes life into vivid web of secondary characters and accelerates its cyclical, pent up drama with some skill. Barbarian’s three sections double for Weapons six sick horror shorts, if you can forgive the film still seemingly starting up three quarters of the way through…

It’s enough to make it structurally significant and stubbornly satisfying, since it just becomes too funny to truly become scary even if it can be shocking for sure, however I don’t think anything will top Eddington for WTF summer suprise. This movie was possibly undone by hype, since while Zack has to be more than on his way to a considerable career (his next, a loose Resident Evil reboot, can only tell), it’s universal critical acclaim is puzzling me when it's about as divisive and risky as Barbarian, and even more complex. Maybe the uniform choirs of praise are ensured by the gorey gratification of the final carnage, a climax of rare exuberance and patience come full circle, since horror tends to eschew emotional resolve when expectations demand scaring your ass out the door.

Our seven major players —  from Julia Garner’s alcoholic teacher to Josh Brolin’s desperate father, Alden Ehrenreich’s on-duty victim of circumstance, standout Austin Abrams as the junkie who discovers the missing tots, Benedict Wong’s fated school principal (his slot is really just the secret section for the voodoo hexes courtesy of the 110% offered by Amy Madigan) and the singularly un-vanishing child (the excellent young Cary Christopher) with quite the undisclosed home life (“WHY IS THIS BOY BUYING SO MUCH SOUP?!”) — make for nothing less than a superb ensemble. There are still plenty of trappings to forgive, from dream sequences however effective nonetheless padding the time, jump scares galore, folk tale simplicity that can leave you aching and expectant riffs on its own mad, B-movie brand of crazy. The film may absolutely feign any sort of novel-like depth with enigmatic crinkles, but even if it’s shallow as a sliver Weapons is as arresting as just about anything to come out this year. It’s hard not to be glued to the mischievous, gonzo goodies.