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Unconventional Weapons

Typically, a story like Zach Cregger’s Weapons, in this day and age, would be conceived of as a miniseries. And indeed it is a fitting format for a story about the effects of a traumatic event on a community with some supernatural mystery behind it all -good miniseries have been made out of the formula. But I do appreciate that Cregger told it as a movie, with both the strengths and limitations the medium offers. There is little room for fat and yet still plenty for atmosphere, its episodic structure works so much better when the puzzle pieces it presents are more immediately tangible. There is a lost art in the puzzle movie, certainly where the horror genre is concerned, and it is satisfying to see it realized again.
Cregger, coming off of his 2022 feature Barbarian, was apparently inspired by Paul Thomas Anderson’s Magnolia in composing a structure of interlocking narratives following several characters united around a singular theme, each sequence revealing just a little more about the overarching story. It’s a relatively distinct approach to a horror film, which is usually built around some level of consistent suspense or momentum, which Weapons frequently interrupts. That is perfectly okay however, as Cregger delicately crafts a mystery that is evenly paced and highly investing, in part because of how closely it skews to an emotionally potent theme. Missing kids is a powerful one.
Opening through narration from one kid, unclear in their relationship to the story at hand and presented with omniscience -yet a highly authentic voice that accounts for childish turns of phrase and understandings of context- through this lens we are told the story of a strange occurrence in the town of Maybrook, Pennsylvania when at 2:17 am one night, seventeen third graders from a single class at the elementary school got out of bed, out their front doors and ran arms flailing out into the night. In spite of an investigation heavily scrutinizing both their teacher Justine Gandy (Julia Garner) and the one student excluded from this phenomenon Alex Lilly (Cary Christoper), no leads are found; only further troubling a community on edge, paranoid, and looking for someone (namely Justine) to blame.
What follows are six narratives set in the aftermath of this incident from different perspectives, each interlinking and shining a little bit more light on what went down, while intensifying the mystery with further abnormal happenings. Justine, the traumatized town pariah is at the centre of one of them; another hones in on Archer Graff (Josh Brolin), the angry and aggrieved father of one of the missing kids. Other featured characters include the seemingly only sparsely concerned police officer Paul (Alden Ehrenreich), Justine’s ex-boyfriend, and a homeless addict James (Austin Abrams). Each figure is granted a certain degree of depth -or in the case of James, personality- as Cregger structures the sequences smartly, with their own set of stakes, either running parallel to or abreast of the larger tragedy the community is dealing with. In the cases of both Justine and Archer, the psychological impact is emphasized -they are haunted by nightmares about the incident and to some degree take it upon themselves to investigate. Each sequence brings with it new information as the scope of the mystery is built out and the audience is left in suspense by the individual and often jarring narrative endings -the first one is especially chilling.
That is indicative of the general vibe of the horror in this film. Firstly, its inciting incident is perturbing -the image of these kids with their arms unnaturally outstretched running off into the night. Archer watches it back a few times on his porch camera, and it is coolly haunting once his child fades into the shadows. Eventually we do see this event from another point-of-view and it is perhaps even more creepy, as Cregger’s camera runs in sync for a little while as more children draped in darkness run into view before settling on a fixed shot at a distance where their forms one at a time become more apparent. The effect of that night is replicated elsewhere in a more chaotic context, more demented than frightful, but it exists well within the town’s ambiguous atmosphere. And those nightmares are shot and paced with a genuine spooky air as well.
The most curious bit here is in Archer, dreaming he is following the path of his son, winding up back home where a giant assault rifle hangs in the sky overhead. It is odd and seemingly pretty disconnected from the circumstance of Archer’s missing son and his classmates. But while textually it may act as some psychological link for Archer, it’s function is as more of a blunting of Cregger’s principal allegory: a school shooting, one of those absurdly common occurrences in the United States. It is there in plenty of imagery early on: the closed school with numerous bouquets of flowers and vigils against its walls, the tenor of the police interviews, and of course the nuances of body language in the traumatized performances of both Garner and the young Christopher as survivors to this heinous event. The fraught emotions of the parents and the desire for a scapegoat are likewise indicative of such tragedy, but also paint a broader more cynical picture on how paranoid hate campaigns are weaponized, especially in vulnerable communities. Justine, as an outsider to the town, is an easy target of their wrath; and Cregger also incorporates shrewdly allusions to the rampant distrust in public educators that we have seen propagated in recent years, the brazenly false notions of teachers trying to brainwash children into a political or social ideology. As a perceived rival in influencing a child’s development it is easy for these parents to label Justine the problem, the ‘witch’ of their community. It echoes starkly the attacks on teachers we have only seen grow more pronounced.
And Garner plays very strongly that weight of the unfair scrutiny she is under combined with her own anguish over these kids she cared for. The pain and fury bubbling under the surface is relayed honestly, alongside the irrationality it brings out. Brolin is good too, in one of his better performances of late, as the desperate and angry father. Abrams, as source of a fair amount of humour -and the movie does overall balance well a comic sensibility in spite of its subject matter- makes for one of the better, authentic portraits of a homeless youth that I've seen. And entering late in the film, Amy Madigan is quite unnerving as an enigmatic figure raising suspicions from even her most casual acts.
The film loses some steam in its ultimate reveal and resolution. Perhaps a victim of its own competence, the set-ups are so precise that the pay-off feels rather simple and inadequate, a fairly conceptually mundane answer to the questions posited. It still provides for a reasonably entertaining climax, especially through one morbidly humourous action-horror beat that Cregger stages with appropriate glee, yet ultimately it is a touch diminished. And while there is an effort to regain the ominous atmosphere well established in the first few chapters through the ending, it doesn't quite succeed.
It is not a note that hurts the movie really though, and it makes for some perfectly fine catharsis -only less ambitious than those structural and tonal choices in the early goings seemed to indicate. Weapons is effectively chilling and engrossing, a fun and thrilling ride regardless, and still intelligently dynamic in its commentary and stylish presentation. Cregger's may yet be another compellingly fresh voice to keep tabs on in this genre. His is a summer horror flick that earns its hype.

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