WEAPONS and the Horror of Being an American Child (SPOILERS)

 Zach Cregger's sophomore feature delves into the current anxieties of American families and crafts a new horror classic. (!!!MASSIVE SPOILERS BELOW!!!)

By: Josh McCormack

 

 

For all of the narrative twists and grisly violence that make up Zach Cregger’s latest film “Weapons”, there’s one particular sequence that has already stirred some debate amongst filmgoers.

The sequence in question comes less than an hour into the film, when Josh Brolin’s character Archer is dreaming about his son; one of the 17 school children whose sudden disappearance is the impetus for the film’s core narrative. In the dream, Archer chases his son into the darkness of night before stopping at an abandoned house and looking into the sky to see a massive assault rifle ominously floating. The numbers “217” are inscribed on its muzzle, a reference to the time in the evening in which all the kids strangely disappeared. Archer takes his gaze away from it and continues to look for his son in the fog-laden dreamscape. 

It’s never mentioned again, leaving audiences to ponder what it could possibly mean.

Since seeing the films a couple of days ago, this image has been the jumping off point for so much of my own interpretation of the film. In fact, for all of the debate the floating gun has sparked, I think it stands as one of the most obvious indicators of the film’s core sociopolitical statement, that being that the film acts as an allegory for the effects of mass shootings–particularly the ones  involving children–in modern America.

As is the case with all great genre films, “Weapons” is not operating merely as allegory. Cregger seems to be pretty intent on saying that the film is first and foremost a crowd-pleasing horror movie that puts character and story at the forefront, as opposed to theme. While I certainly agree with that statement, no film is made in a vacuum, particularly one that deals with the disappearance of young children on a mass scale.

Looking at “Weapons” through this lens emphasizes the brilliance of the film’s non-traditional structure. Taking direct influence from Paul Thomas Anderson’s “Magnolia” and even evoking Tarantino’s “Pulp Fiction”, “Weapons” tells the story of a small, Pennsylvania town reacting to the tragic disappearance of these children through multiple different perspectives. Cregger’s hyper-subjectivity that served him incredibly well in his debut film, “Barbarian”, comes back in full force as he makes time to look at this story from all angles before having each of the characters’ plot lines intersect in an outstanding third act. 

Through each of these perspectives (delineated like different chapters with their own subtitles coming up to reorient the audience), we see the effects that the disappearance of these children had both directly (Brolin’s grieving father or Julia Garner’s elementary school teacher) and indirectly (Alden Ehrenreich’s insecure police officer or Austin Abrams’ comedic heroin addict) on the town. Mass tragedies have ripple effects and so much of the film beautifully showcases characters feeling lost or desperate to find closure, particularly in the face of authority figures who seemingly do nothing to make a difference.

As the film reaches its conclusion, it reveals itself to be a contemporary witchcraft story unlike anything I have ever seen. But even as the fantastical elements come to the forefront, the sense of terror and suspense around the fate of the 17 missing children never lets up. 

 

That real-world terror the film evoked early on is soon replaced by an ending that goes absolutely nuts. 

The possessed children are weaponized (heh, get it) against their captor, Amy Madigan’s villainous Gladys (one of the best performances of the year so far, by the way). What was previously a slow-burn horror film goes full Looney Toons as the children chase down Gladys and eventually tear her apart. 

What has made this ending linger in my head, however, is the direct aftermath of the witch’s death. Instead of the children immediately coming back to their old selves, none of them utter a word as they stand over the disemboweled body of their kidnapper. When Archer embraces his son and runs him back to his home, the camera lingers on the emotionless face of the young boy staring directly into the barrel of the camera as a child’s voice begins to narrate.

“About a year later,” the voice says. “[...]some of the kids even started to talk again.”

“Weapons” concludes here, leaving audiences with a haunting reminder of just how much trauma these children have endured. 

So much of “Weapons” is about the adult characters who are searching for these children in an attempt to satiate their own needs. A need to clear their name, a need to say “I love you” or a need to receive a financial reward. 

The finale instead acts as a reminder that it's the children themselves who will carry most of the weight from this horrific event. When you look into the eyes of the young boy at the end, it’s hard not to imagine seeing the same eyes on young survivors of the gun violence that continuously poisons our country.

“Weapons” is a film that works just fine if you watch it without any political perspective. Its narrative structure and fantastic performances are more than enough for it to linger with viewers without bringing in any real world implications. 

But between the themes of children in peril, suburban panic and that damn AR-15 floating in the sky, I don’t think it's a stretch to say that “Weapons” is a horror film that’s been tailor-made for the horrifying reality we live in.