Zach Cregger’s Weapons Fires a Suburban Warning Shot - Review

Josh Brolin uncovers darkness in Zach Cregger’s PTA-style suburban horror Weapons.

Review: Weapons (2025)

Rating: ★★★☆☆ (3/5)

Zach Cregger is carving out his own slice of horror, not in the woods or the deserts, but in the cul-de-sacs and PTA meetings of American suburbia. While his breakout film Barbarian played like a fever dream inside an Airbnb, his latest, Weapons, turns its gaze toward middle-class communities where the only thing more chilling than what’s hiding in the shadows is the quiet rot festering inside the homes.

Weapons stars Josh Brolin as a grieving father whose world collapses after the disappearance of his son. Seventeen children are missing, yet only one student and one teacher—Justine (Julia Garner)—remain from the class. Suspicion falls swiftly, and the community turns toxic, fueled by fear, grief, and a desire for someone to blame.

The film dives deep into the complexities of modern parenting and education, casting a harsh spotlight on the uneasy dynamic between overprotective parents and overburdened teachers. The performance of the Garner is a compelling study in emotional restraint, as she navigates the brutal gray zone between responsibility and guilt. Cregger paints her as a symbol of today’s millennial educators—tapped in, burnt out, and often thrown into roles they never signed up for.

But beneath the whodunit and missing persons mystery, Weapons is about emotional deterioration. It’s about the unspoken resentments between parents, the ways grief can mutate love into suspicion, and how communities that pride themselves on civility can quickly descend into paranoia and hostility. The film doesn’t offer easy resolutions—because real life rarely does.

Technologically aware, Cregger doesn’t shy away from modern devices. Instead of treating phones and livestreams as narrative inconveniences, he weaves them into the chaos, grounding Weapons in a very current and believable now. It’s horror rooted not in the fantastical, but in the plausible—and sometimes that’s even more disturbing.

Still, for all its sharp observations and thoughtful tension, Weapons isn’t as terrifying as it promises to be. It’s more of a simmer than a boil—less The Babadook, more The Slap, filtered through a Needful Things lens. Fans looking for a rollercoaster of scares might leave disappointed, but those open to slow-burn dread and thematic commentary will find plenty to dissect.

Ultimately, Weapons succeeds more as a conversation starter than a genre disruptor. It doesn’t topple our current favorite of the year, but it does solidify Cregger’s growing legacy as the poet laureate of suburban horror. From the PTA to the panic room, Weapons hits a lot of cultural nerves—but not always with a scalpel. Sometimes, just a little too blunt.

Verdict: A smart, brooding, and socially aware horror story that takes aim at parental guilt and suburban rot—but falls just short of greatness.