Barbarian (2022)

Score: 4 / 5

For Zach Cregger's feature directorial debut, Barbarian is an absolute doozy. The most unpredictable, genre-hopping horror film I can readily think of, it is written brilliantly: completely coherent even as it aggressively tries to surprise us at every turn. It starts with one of the most effective and relatable (but no less horrifying) premises I've seen in recent years, and from there it launches into a roller coaster ride of terror. It's one of those films that makes you feel icky while and after watching, but it's so damned smart that I really want to watch it again sometime soon to appreciate its focused efforts to subvert our expectations and refract our perceptions.

Tess (Georgina Campbell) arrives at her Airbnb in the dead of night. It's pouring outside, and she can't see anything of the neighborhood in this forgotten neighborhood of Detroit in the present day. She's a documentary researcher and needs to rest and relax a bit before her big interview in the city tomorrow. But there's a light on in the Airbnb and another car there, and there's no key in the lockbox. Finally roused from slumber -- or so he suggests -- the current inhabitant opens the door. His name is Keith (a suitably creepy Bill Skarsgård) and he doesn't seem to want any guests. Who would, right? You get an Airbnb, and you expect to be left alone, like in a hotel. But between the late hour and the intense rain, he pities her and invites her inside, but only after they prove to each other that they indeed made reservations and were mysteriously, annoyingly double-booked.

Skarsgård plays against type here, leaning into the innately creepy situation and his performance history to be unnerving even as he charms the heck out of Tess and us. He's a bit verbose, but clearly means well: he knows this is awful and that the optics are not in his favor. He offers to sleep on the sofa so Tess can have the bedroom (with a door). He wants to split the wine but waits for her to open it so she knows he hasn't tampered with it. He wishes her well at her interview and sets up what is probably meant to be a celebratory date. Cregger and his cinematographer use the subtlest shifts of light and angles to make their scenes uncanny; that is, familiar but wrong somehow. It's our job (and Tess's) to find out exactly what's wrong and why and how to escape. Right?

Well, maybe not. Some secrets need to be explored first, as evidenced when Tess awakes later in the night to her door wide open and Keith having an apparent nightmare. One thing leads to another, and eventually by day, when Keith is gone, Tess wanders into the basement and gets stuck. Looking for a way out, she discovers a semi-hidden rope that pulls open a secret door in the cement. Anyone would tell you not to go in there, but naturally she does and discovers horrible things. Well, the things themselves aren't inherently horrid, but her suspicions of what they mean altogether are monstrous. And those things are paired with her already discomfited stay, her opinions of the rundown neighborhood and that aggressive, scary neighbor who chased her down, and the warnings of the area given by the woman who interviewed her.

This first act of the film -- don't worry, I will try not to give any spoilers this time -- ends shortly after this, when Tess ventures further down into the basement. It's a screaming climax that comes a bit too soon for most horror films. But then the film does an about-face (not unlike the shock twist of Psycho) and actor Justin Long shows up as "AJ". He's a fascinating and loathsome character, as we discover in an absolutely brilliant marriage of screenwriting and acting, and his tale comprises the second act of the film. I feared it would include a redemption arc for him, but, without spoiling anything, the film is too smart for that. Finally, there's the third act of the film, which is the out-and-out horror fest that left me absolutely breathless with anxiety and dread. It's the most rote of the acts, but by this point I needed something a little familiar to grasp or I was going to panic.

It's not a perfect movie. Many discussions -- all of which should be necessary and would be fascinating -- will revolve around the film's characterization of women, of men (which I think is the primary mode of horror here), of poverty, of greed and vanity. There is the cringey depiction of an impoverished Detroit, much like that used in Don't Breathe (which shares a surprising amount of DNA with this film), that we could all do without, despite its relevance and relative authenticity. There is the unbearable but constant series of idiotic actions taken by most characters; by the third act, I almost wanted more terrible things to happen to them to punish them for being so endlessly stupid. Thankfully, there is no actual depiction of sexual violence in this film, even though it's a major series of plot points and character arcs, so that's good, although we definitely still feel the impact cognitively. 

And then there's the title itself, a stroke of pure genius that creates a sort of maze for us as viewers to venture through, looking for its significance and meaning. Is it Keith? AJ? Tess? Someone else (we learn of a few other people connected to this house, none of whom are very nice)? Could it be the house itself, situated as it is on Barbary Street? I think the answer is "yes"! I'd argue it also refers to the cycle of misogyny in generations and cultures of toxic and evil men and the effect they have on the rest of us, especially on women. That entitlement led those men to build the world, and now we're all trapped in it. Can we escape?