Review: Passenger Turns Roadside Urban Legends Into Atmospheric Horror

Jacob Scipio and Lilla Bell navigate terror on the open road in André Øvredal’s Passenger.

Review: Passenger Delivers Roadside Terror and Atmospheric Dread

There are certain filmmakers in modern horror where the anticipation alone becomes part of the experience. André Øvredal has earned that distinction. From Trollhunter and The Autopsy of Jane Doe to the criminally underrated The Last Voyage of the Demeter, Øvredal has consistently proven he understands how to create fear through mood, shadow, sound, and patience. So when the teaser for Passenger exploded online earlier this year, horror fans immediately locked in.

And honestly, it makes sense why.

Passenger taps directly into the DNA of classic roadside urban legends and campfire paranoia. The type of stories parents tell you the moment you first start driving alone at night. Do not stop for strangers. Do not pull over on empty roads. Do not trust what you think you saw in the woods. Øvredal takes those familiar fears and filters them through a modern world shaped by van life culture, social media escapism, and people searching for freedom outside traditional living.

The setup is smart immediately. Tyler and Maddie, played by Jacob Scipio and Lilla Bell, are a couple traveling the open road in search of something bigger than routine existence. Their relationship dynamics feel grounded enough to make the horror work because underneath the supernatural tension is a very real story about stress, emotional baggage, and two people trying to figure out if they are actually surviving together or simply dragging each other deeper into uncertainty.

Visually, Passenger absolutely delivers.

Øvredal and his team remain masters of atmosphere. The use of darkness, headlights, distant silhouettes, environmental sound design, and isolated stretches of road creates a constant sense of vulnerability. There are moments in this film that will absolutely stick with horror fans because the imagery is genuinely disturbing. Even when the movie is quiet, it feels threatening. That is something Øvredal consistently excels at.

At the same time, the film does not fully reach the terrifying heights that its viral teaser suggested. The scares are effective in a theater crowd setting because audiences will absolutely react to several sequences, but there is a lingering feeling that the film could have pushed further into psychological terror and supernatural dread. The foundation is there. The atmosphere is there. The mythology is there. It just occasionally feels restrained when you want it to go fully off the rails.

Where Passenger may divide audiences most is in its character decisions. Once certain truths begin surfacing, the film shifts from pure survival horror into something more emotionally internalized. Some viewers will connect with that layered approach, while others may find themselves frustrated by choices that begin steering the narrative. It becomes less about random terror and more about trauma, stubbornness, emotional damage, and the dangerous consequences of refusing to confront personal realities.

Still, even with those frustrations, Passenger remains a strong addition to Øvredal’s filmography. It understands the power of folklore, understands the vulnerability of isolation, and knows exactly how to use visual unease to get under your skin. In a packed month for horror releases, it still manages to carve out its own lane.

Most importantly, André Øvredal still knows how to disturb people. And honestly, horror is better when he’s making movies.

Score: 3/5