Weapons

One of the embraceable notes of contemporary horror cinema is the allegorical nature of the themes pictured. Of course, horror cinema going so far back as “Carrie” or “The Shining” have dealt heavily in commentary passing off as subtext but the volume of this in modern indie cinema has been admirably high. Zach Cregger’s accomplished sophomore effort, “Weapons” treads this path in a deliberate fashion, punctuating all the relevant notes of this sub-genre with aplomb. It also endeavors well to pull tricks from a wide cinematic encyclopedia, resulting in a deliciously enjoyable and accessible experience at the theater.

“Weapons” surrounds a mysterious event in an archetypal American suburb where 17 third graders, all belonging to the same class, go missing one night. Trouble is, security footage shows that they all seem to have left home on their own volition, running out the front door with their arms stretched wide open to the side. Another curious wedge in this mystery is that only one kid in the class has remained, along with the class teacher. After a brief vocal introduction to this premise, “Weapons” drops us into the aftermath of this event and the unfortunate ripples it creates in the community.
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​The ingenuity of the movie is in how it shifts its focal points to relatively unconventional areas to both dramatic as well as documentarian effects. We wade through the wake of the kids’ disappearance by being witness to how five members of the community are dealing with the shock, portrayed in somewhat non-linear, slightly overlapping episodes. Justine, the class teacher is targeted by the community under suspicion of having done something to the kids. She has a troubled relationship with propriety and starts scratching under unwarranted surfaces in the hopes of finding clues that could solve the puzzle she has been slammed into. Questioning her innocence and also everything else around him, is Archer, the father of one of the missing children. He has been sucked into the vortex of grief, anger, and incredulity of the situation and fashions himself into a vigilante. We also meet Marcus, the principal of the school trying to run a crumbling ship, and Paul, an alcoholic cop who is down on his luck and can’t seem to stop making questionable choices. The quintuple is completed by a seemingly non-related junkie whose affliction compels him into the wrong places at the right times. ​

​The movie gets around to having these characters and episodes start clashing with each other. And it finds interesting options there to get creative, infusing moments of pulpy action, conventional chills, eery shock value, and even a touch of hapless humor. But by spending time in isolation with each of these characters as they grapple with their circumstances, the movie allows itself to establish a deep sense of atmosphere, of tension and terror, of filth and fear, of strangeness and sorrow. “Weapons” also uses this excuse to sprinkle notes on the systemic subterranean opportunities of dysfunction in a society that very much lead to shocking outcomes. The movie almost seems to ask this community, in its mad rush to look for the missing kids, to pause and look around and perhaps, even look at itself. 

​For those disinclined to extrapolate a film’s themes into everyday life, “Weapons” does provide some satisfactory answers. While those might feel like a cop out, the movie is delightful to watch just for the craft involved, be it the applaudable acting capacity on display or the many ways the score and the scenery have fun with the narrative. But if you choose to transgress the boundaries of these simple answers, the questions left deliberately open by the movie are plenty and profound. One of them involves the one brilliantly conceived image that will symbolize this movie for years to come - children running in the dark with their arms spread wide open. Perhaps we’re all running in the dark, convincing ourselves we’re doing that out of free will and childlike glee. But what vile forces beyond our grasp are we really entranced by?