We’re living in an era where horror has finally become one of the most esteemed, respected genres – the days where it was viewed as merely a secondary genre to the melodrama and western are thankfully far behind us, even if we do find some of the passion directed to the dreadfully trite concept of the “elevated” horror slightly too intense at times. As a result, we’re seeing new and exciting voices emerging every year, and one of the most unique in recent years was Zach Cregger, who followed in the footsteps of artists like Jordan Peele and John Krasinski by moving from working primarily in comedy to suddenly being a peddler of terror and despair. His debut Barbarian was a conceptual coup d’état, and a few years later, he returned with Weapons, another delightfully demented work that now sees him tackling an entirely different set of ideas. Here, he tells the story of a small Pennsylvania town in which the entire third-grade class (except one student) inexplicably go missing one morning, simply opening their front doors and disappearing, plunging the entire community into a state of panic for over a month as they attempt to find out precisely what happened to their children. This is where the description stops (at least momentarily – stop reading after this if you don’t wish to see a discussion on the many themes that populate this film), but its more than enough to pique our interest, with Cregger’s work being absolutely exceptional from start to finish, making Weapons one of the most unique and daring works of horror of the year, and a film that is going to age remarkably well – not only for its depth and ability to both provoke thought and feel fear, but also for how it attempts to reinvent the genre without being too ambitious, following certain patterns while also being steadfast in its desire to challenge the trite conventions of horror in a way that is dynamic, interesting and frankly just wholeheartedly entertaining, both formally and in terms of its multitude of ideas.

It has become far too common for us to see a contemporary horror film – especially one that is initially coy about its subject matter – and determine the deeper meaning, since a film could simply terrify without having too much depth seems to be a remnant of a bygone era. Every horror film needs to have a deeper message by modern standards, which is both a blessing and a curse depending on your perspective – it allows filmmakers to be more daring when infusing their films with certain messages, but it can also distract from the more enjoyable aspects of a film when we are constantly being put in a position where we’re searching for thematic relevance, rather than being entertained by what we are seeing on screen. This is why many of the best horror films in recent years are by directors with roots in comedy, since they understand the importance of balance – and in the case of Weapons, its exact meaning is open to interpretation. The most obvious theme, and the one we are led to believe is the primary perspective, is that this is a story about the current mass murder crisis that is occurring as a result of the poor gun control laws in the United States, usually represented by the atrocious number of school shootings in which entire classrooms of children are brutally murdered. However, Cregger intentionally does not make it clear whether or not this was the overall aim, since several interpretations don’t necessarily invalidate this, but rather stir up more discussion than we would have anticipated. The film is also very clearly about cults of personality and how certain people are either charismatic or powerful enough to weaponise others to do their bidding – and it would be foolish to not see the political sub-text that accompanies this thought, with Cregger making it quite clear that many intricate ideas inform his filmmaking here, and that you cannot feasibly look at this film as anything other than a dense bundle of complex, daring ideas.

However, the themes of Weapons are only half the experience, since it is the execution that brings the film together (no pun intended), and where we truly see the director making a case for himself as one of the most exciting voices working in the genre. What is so fascinating about this film is that it is both extremely unsettling with several terrifying moments, but its also only partially a horror – unlike many works produced in the genre, where it is simply wall-to-wall despair, this film manages to deftly blend genres in a way that no one could anticipate, a quality that is not clear at the start, but gradually creeps up on the viewer. After a deeply serious, dour opening act, the film gradually becomes funnier and more unhinged, to the point where we can feasibly view it as equally a dense psychological horror and a wonderfully strange, offbeat dark comedy, considering the sheer number of moments that are outrageously hilarious and deeply compelling in both concept and style. It is clear to see that this film was conceived by someone with roots in comedy – there’s something so wonderfully insidious about how Cregger establishes the use of humour in this film. In some moments, it’s there to distract from the intensity of the horror, a momentary reprieve from the terror in the form of a brief witty remark or moment of levity. In others (and which is perhaps most effective), it’s used to increase the tension, plunging the viewer into an absurd version of reality, one that is far from what we recognise, but still familiar enough that we can understand what precisely was being communicated. It’s a tonal triumph, oscillating wildly between different ideas in a way that is seriously very impressive, and leads to a film that knows exactly what it intends to achieve, regardless of how much we may believe it was heading in one direction, when in reality it was going towards the other in its entirety.

To bring these ideas to life and ensure that its wild tonal shifts came across as not only realistic but also carry some meaning, Cregger makes use of an ensemble cast. The film is divided into half a dozen chapters, each one focusing on a different character and offering their perspective on the central event through flashbacks and more intimate moments where we see the world through their eyes. As a result, its a film without any clear lead – Julia Garner and Josh Brolin are probably the closest, as they are given the longest segments and play a major part in the final act in which the film reaches its climax, but like any great film structured in such a way, the focus is shifted between a larger group, each one offering clues that help us piece the entire film together. Garner is exceptional and is mostly quite subdued (a change of pace from her tendency to be cast in films where her ability to resort to hysterics is unfortunately far too common), being the emotional anchor of the film. Brolin is also excellent in portraying the deep grief of a man who decides to turn his despair into something more pragmatic. Benedict Wong, Alden Ehrenreich and Austin Abrams have fantastic moments of their own, even if their segments are much shorter. However, it’s undeniable that it is Amy Madigan who makes this film so remarkable, being a reason to watch this film all on its own. Few actors in recent memory have been more committed to bringing such a deranged character to life – its hilarious, courageous and provocative work from an actor we don’t see getting her dues, and while there have been some complaints that her performance here falls into the harmful trope of the biddy horror genre (an overblown criticism for the trend as a whole), no one can legitimately watch Weapons and walk away thinking that this performance is anything other than a pure, unbridled piece of acting that highlights – and sometimes even contradicts – the darkest and most insidious aspects of this entire film.

We can mercifully be spared the usual trite sentiment that the horror genre is redefined through Weapons, since at no point does the film imply that as its intention. If anything, Cregger is very carefully lampooning the self-serious, overly dense trend towards elevated horror, showing that a film can have more complex ideas without being weighed down by its innovation, and that it is perfectly reasonable to expect a film that knows exactly how to navigate some fascinating themes. Cregger is a major talent, and while it does show itself as willing to take its time to reach a particular point, it doesn’t sacrifice the entertainment value, creating a more complex, daring work that is as enjoyable as it is provocative. The ensemble cast is filled with impressive performances (some of which will likely be career-defining, whether as the outset or as a rediscovery of an underrated talent) and the filmmaking itself is wonderful – atmospheric, tense and effortlessly compelling, Weapons is a fascinating achievement in how it tackles some very complex themes with a sense of genuine curiosity and the undying devotion to doing something different. It’s one of the year’s best films, and joins Sinners and Presence as some of the most daring, captivating works of horror we’ve seen produced in the last few months. Brilliant, strange and incredibly entertaining, we’re truly living in an era where horror is being taken much more seriously, primarily because unique voices like Cregger’s are being given the chance to follow their ambitions and create unforgettable works that are as enthralling as they are deeply unsettling.