Barbarian (2022)

Barbarian is the rare horror-thriller that doesn’t just scare you—it outsmarts you, constantly re-writing what you think kind of movie you’re watching with a wicked grin. Zach Cregger builds dread from everyday politeness and bad timing, then escalates with nerve-tightening suspense, sharp dark humor, and a sense of “I can’t believe they went there” audacity that feels both controlled and gleefully unhinged. The performances ground the madness—Georgina Campbell is all believable intelligence and fear, Bill Skarsgård plays perfectly against expectation, and Justin Long brings a smarmy comedic edge that curdles into something else. It’s not for the squeamish or anyone sensitive to sexual-violence themes and grotesque imagery, but if you want a horror ride that’s genuinely unpredictable and expertly paced, this one earns your trust and then steals it back.

Barbarian is trying to be a nasty little rollercoaster: start with a smart, slow-burn Airbnb paranoia setup, then yank the rug out and keep escalating into something stranger and meaner. The problem is that once the movie starts explaining itself and swerving hard into different tones, the mystery can feel less satisfying than the opening promises, and the shocks start to look like the main event rather than the payoff. It’s effective at creating dread and has a couple of genuinely tense sequences (plus committed performances), but it also leans into extreme, gross-out, and sexually disturbing imagery that some viewers will find more unpleasant than scary. If you like tight, coherent horror puzzles, you may leave annoyed; if you’re up for chaotic, boundary-pushing horror that prioritizes “what the hell?” over neat answers, it’ll probably hit the spot.