Barbarian is a horror film that twists like few others. What starts
as heart-pounding claustrophobic suspense pivots into what I will only describe
as…other things…right at the moment that such turns would seem least
appropriate. I knew this going in—Will Leitch’s phenomenal newsletter piece on
that very thing convinced me to strain my schedule and squeeze seeing it in—but
I underestimated just how engaging this presentation could be.
I make this statement because, in
the midst of a climactic scene with about fifteen minutes remaining in the
film, something happened in our theater. The lights flashed brightly on the
wall twice and then the screen cut to black before giving way to a translucent
red hue. The audience was silent, sharing a collective curiosity over what had
just happened. Phones came out, some muttered dialogue floated under the
suddenly silent air conditioner, and a member from each of the two parties
present with me—seven teens sharing three vape pens between them and a quiet
couple in my row—left to speak with a manager.
I, on the other hand, continued to
munch on my popcorn. This is crazy, I thought with a grin so wide the
others might have pegged me as a promotional plant for Smile. Will didn’t
say it was interactive too.
It turns out: there was a power
surge that caused everything to reboot. Ten minutes later, the film picked up
again, and we all watched the conclusion that went over pretty well. In all
seriousness, though, I assumed the cut and flashing were part of the movie.
That speaks to the level of disorientation that Barbarian conjures at
its finest moments.
Dramatics aside, Barbarian is
a masterwork of tension in the early going. Tess (Georgina Campbell) is in
Detroit for a job interview, but her Airbnb is double-booked by charmingly
awkward Keith (Bill Skarsgård). The two agree to share the tiny house for the
night, with Tess in the locked bedroom and Keith on the couch, but Tess wakes
in the night to the door open but Keith asleep in the other room. After her
interview, Tess returns to explore the house, and the less said about what
follows, the better.
Ultimately, there’s some very
familiar horror stuff going on in Barbarian, but the film deftly evades
ever feeling that way while watching. The pivots and twists are beautifully
orchestrated, the performances are pitch-perfect all around, even if characters
and motivations don’t always add up, and, as I said before, the effect as a
whole is spellbinding. The set design, particularly the house’s interior,
establishes an uneasy atmosphere that manages to imbue menace into the mundane
in a way that screams “something is coming” but still subvert and toy with
expectations. Barbarian feels confidently made and well-executed despite
its many bold choices, and I’d say that all five principal cast members do well
in their respective roles.
If you’re looking for a fresh horror
movie experience that takes some chances but mostly lands it, Barbarian
is worth the price of admission. The experience of watching it is indeed remarkable,
even if everything doesn’t entirely hold up under post-viewing scrutiny, and
some of what it’s saying ends up pretty on the nose. As much as any genre,
horror movies are about the visceral experience of watching them and the
tangled web of emotions that flare up along the way. In that regard, Barbarian
is a definite win.
