Bar-Bar-Bar-Barbarian

Another day, another directorial debut. Today, I'm talking about Zach Creggar's Barbarian, a truly scary thriller that successfully resurrects many of the tropes found in 1970's grindhouse cinema. Creggar, co-founder of the comedy sketch series, The Whitest Kids U' Know, also acted in TV sitcoms Friends with Benefits, Guys with Kids and Wrecked before switching gears in 2022, when he wrote and directed what proved to be his breakout film, Barbarian. An unlikely director of horror, Creggar has gone on to even greater success with the hits Weapons (see my August 15, 2025 post) and Resident Evil (released nationwide this past September). 

Much like Weapons, in fact, the plot of Barbarian unfolds through the eyes of three very different characters. On a dark and stormy night (cue organ music), a young woman named Tess arrives in a sketchy suburban enclave of Detroit where she has booked an Airbnb the night before a major job interview. The neighborhood is dark and indistinguishable due to the ongoing deluge and lack of streetlights but Tess somehow manages to find her lodgings and, upon reaching the front door, discovers no key in the lockbox. Shit! she thinks before realizing that there may already be someone staying there.

There's certainly movement and, after she bangs on the front door for an interminable period in the rain, a light flickers on and a young man appears. Uh-oh, it's Bill Skarsgard who played Pennywise, the Dancing Clown in Stephen King's IT, parts 1 & 2, as well as Count Orlock in Robert Egger's 2024 remake of Nosferatu. In this movie, Skarsgard's character is named Keith. Keith is pretty in an odd sort of way, but he's definitely giving off Norman Bates vibes. Or is he? Maybe it's just Tess being stressed out and irritated that a squatter has crashed in her Airbnb rental. There are some tense moments resulting in a futile attempt to call the property's manager, but Tess and Keith reach an uneasily amicable truce after they compare their confirmation dates for the property and realize that there's been a simple case of double-booking. But, as is often the case in horror movies, nothing is ever simple. So, after a few glasses of introductory wine and vague backstories, the pair retreats for their night, Tess in the bedroom, Keith on the couch. 

Once everybody is tucked in and drifting off to sleep, there are suddenly shadows lurking in doorways and sounds coming from somewhere inside the house. The pair are spooked but neither is completely convinced that the other isn't responsible for the strange goings-on. Alone in the house the next day, Tess walks outside and notices that her rental is smack dab in the middle of an abandoned, dilapidated area of town. A homeless man camping out down the street runs up to Tess and insists that she leave immediately, adding that something very bad lurks there. Rattled, she returns to the house and locks the door. In the bathroom, she is annoyed to find that there's no toilet paper and goes on a fruitless search that leads to a creepy basement. Because every old house in every horror movie ever made is required to have a creepy basement. It's the law. 

Sure enough, Tess finds the elusive t.p. but she also comes across a hidden door leading to a labyrinthine series of tunnels and rooms, one of which is equipped with a dirty mattress, movie camera and a bloody handprint on the wall. This is when Tess hightails it back up the stairs toward the safety of daylight but instead finds herself....locked in the basement. Of course, she left her phone on the dining table so it appears that she's fucked until Keith shows back up from wherever he's been (it's unclear). Freed from the basement, Tess immediately begins packing bags and advises Keith to do the same because something is not right about this house! Not so easily deterred, Keith convinces Tess to remain  long enough for him to go downstairs and investigate. This is truly a bad idea. Have these people never seen a scary movie before? When, after a few minutes, Keith doesn't answer Tess's calls, she heads down the staircase (of course she does) where a lot of screaming, running through tunnels, flickering flashlights and bloodletting ensues. 

Cut to: a shot of the same house in 1972. The neighborhood is tidy, the green laws freshly cut, the well-kept cookie-cutter houses reflective of a post-war suburban affluence. A man named Frank walks out of the house and is greeted by a neighbor who advises him that he's moving because the "neighborhood is going to hell". It's suburban Detroit, after all, and a sign of things to come. After driving to the local superstore, Frank shops for large plastic sheets and diapers while a clueless clerk, only too happy to help, adds rolls of heavy tape to his cart. While he is still sitting in his car, Frank watches a woman exit the store and proceeds to follow her home. Frank is serving up some pretty heavy Silence of the Lambs here. Once he returns home we hear screams coming from within and then....

We cut back to present day California where douchebag actor A.J. is cruising along the Pacific Coast Highway in his red convertible. It's a sunny day and A.J. is elated over his upcoming role in a new TV show. But a phone call from his management team puts an abrupt end to his happiness. His female co-star has accused him of sexual assault and the allegations will be appearing the next day on the front page of The Hollywood Reporter. Additionally, an investigation has been launched and there's a good chance that A.J. could be arrested. Dropped by his agency, Hollywood friends and financial advisor, A.J. needs cash. Fast! He's a spendthrift and has to hire an attorney to defend himself against these "unfounded" claims. 

Advised to sell some of his property in Michigan, A.J. catches a flight to Detroit, where he is revealed to be the latest owner of the property advertised on Airbnb. Since he's never actually set foot in the house, A.J. is appalled by the surroundings but moves in for the short-term until he can sell it. Never mind the fact that the house is unlikely to fetch more than a couple grand. It's a movie. A drunken conversation with a childhood friend reveals that the rape allegations against A.J. aren't as "unfounded" as he claims. The next morning A.J. descends into the dreaded basement and wends his way through its myriad tunnels. Holy shit! All this extra square footage will significantly impact the house's value! Retrieving a tape measure from the kitchen A.J. sets about measuring the meandering passages below. He comes across the room with the mattress, movie camera and bloody handprint but continues with his chore until he comes across a series of cages. Startled, he decides to carry on until he hears someone moving in the darkness. Soon, his flashlight illuminates the source of the sounds. With someone or something in hot pursuit, a terrified A.J. scurries away, but it's Justin Long playing A.J., and Long's movie characters aren't famous for making it to the end credits. Hence, his subsequent tumble into a black pit finds him shaken, banged up and not alone. 

The plot of Barbarian is not particularly original, but it is so superbly executed that it doesn't matter. The themes of sexual abuse, generational trauma and toxic masculinity are omnipresent, the action moves at a relatively fast clip and the jump scares (of which there are plenty) are well-spaced and effective (without resorting to cats jumping out of dark corners, etc). Earlier, I mentioned that this movie harkens back to the days of grindhouse cinema, but I also found myself thinking of the notorious X-Files episode, Home, as well as the Halloween Horror Houses ubiquitous on the American landscape this time of year. 

The actors are all fine in their roles, with Skarsgard and Long exuding different levels of creepy ambiguity. Richard Brake's Frank is also several shades of ick as the stalker (actually much, much worse) who is the origin of this story. I really like Georgina Campbell as Tess, even when the script requires her to make extremely dumb decisions that place her in repeated peril; she's such a likeable and genuine performer that I didn't mind the fact that her character is probably more courageous than she is smart. There's something to be said for that although I'm not sure what. As homeless man and would-be savior, Andre, Jaymes Butler is intense and full of feverish conviction as his ominous warnings go unheeded until it's too late.

Of the three spooky films I've commented on so far, Barbarian is the scariest, if not the most imaginative. It's a queasy, thrilling yarn that reminded me more than a little of inching my way through those Halloween "fun" houses of my youth.