Crisis doesn’t often bring out the best in people. Rather, our capitalism-informed status quo tends to create a hierarchical world that often inspires folks, in times of strife, to cling to one thought. “I must have power over somebody else.” That temporary “catharsis” doesn’t solve problems or create a rainbow coalition of working-class unity. But it can give people (especially white folks from relatively privileged backgrounds) some fleeting relief. This is how immigrants, trans folks, non-white people, and other oppressed groups always become scapegoats for societal ills.

Zach Cregger’s Weapons is many things. A visual tour de force. A sporadically riotous dark comedy. The greatest showcase ofJulia Garner’s talents since The Assistant five years ago. However, it’s also a tragic parable about personal isolationism leading people to ruin. Mixing weighty concepts with ceaseless entertainment is one of many impressive accomplishments in the Barbarian director’s new feature.

As an unseen adolescent narrator explains in the opening, something unspeakable happened one night in a seemingly normal suburban neighborhood. At 2:17 AM, 17 children, all taught by Justine Gandy (Garner), ran out of their homes with their arms outstretched and vanished. As police captain Ed (Toby Huss) observes to grieving father Archer Graff (Josh Brolin), “nobody pulled those kids out of their homes.” This inexplicable tragedy leaves a community grieving and looking for a place to channel their rage. Give Gandy taugt all the vanished kids, that hostility hits her like rounds from a machine gun.

Cregger’s script follows in the footsteps of Reservoir Dogs, Magnolia, and The Simpsons’ “Trilogy of Error” episode, telling one larger story in various segments, each occupying a different point of view. Ceaseless communal hatred towards Gandy tangibly materializes in the first storyline focused exclusively on her perspective. This initial chapter doesn’t just establish a larger narrative structure. It also exemplifies how Weapons wrings tension out of everyday circumstances. It excels in down-to-Earth drama until things go suddenly, exhilaratingly haywire.

One of the most tense sequences concerns Gandy simply sitting in her car across the street from her house. She silently stews in the driver’s seat until she finally sees a pair of people strolling down her sidewalk. It is only then that she darts from her car into her home. Without any dialogue or music cues, her new, tragic status quo radiates off the screen. Existing alone at night terrifies her. At least if someone assaults her at that moment, the walking couple can bear witness.

This heartbreaking scene is impeccably well-filmed and paced, virtues that permeate Weapons. Cregger and cinematographer Larkin Seiple’s visual choices emphasize wider shots with exact and subtle camera movements. Even a quiet horror-free scene of adolescent student Alex Lilly (Cary Christopher) talking to his dad, Mr. Lilly (Whitmer Thomas), during a drive eschews standard/reverse shot framing.

It’s a fascinating visual motif, using agorophobic images to emphasize communal connections. While folks like Graff or dirtbag cop Paul Morgan (Alden Ehrenreich) firmly believe only their problems matter, the wide framing reminds the audience of how wrong those characters are. These lives are inseparably intertwined, often terrifyingly so.

This style also informs some of the greatest nail-biter Weapons sequences, including an especially memorable nighttime scene of Gandy falling asleep on a stakeout. Keeping the gently rotating camera fixed in one spot deftly accentuates the tension. Plus, it informs a splendid “oh no!” moment involving an off-screen sound effect. Similarly enthralling, pulse-quickening imagery abounds.

Cregger enhances that glorious imagery by confidently allowing strange elements to remain inexplicable. There is no in-universe reason why those kids stretch their arms out as they leave their homes. Odd visions in Graff’s dream sequence remain perplexing. Some character actions and plot turns go unspoken and implied. Answers are not the point of this feature. Instead, the focus settles on the intimate dramas of navigating an uncertain world or scares benefiting from sparseness. All Cregger needs is a figure ominously walking in the dark to bring the heebie-jeebies.

Eschewing didactic exposition also ensures the maximalist displays of violence hit like a ton of bricks. Worlds of low-key tavern chit-chat or couples enjoying Saturday snacks can, and do, explode into a frenzy of gory violence. That transfixing dissonance wouldn’t work if the film (or its characters) explained itself. The most nightmarish Weapons sequences instead flourish because of the sense of the unhinged and the uncontrollable.

Whether it’s gently exploring Gandy’s nightmare experiences of getting to her front door or realizing explosive exhibitions of violence, Weapons captivates. This title even hits a bullseye in its more humorous moments. Much like in Barbarian, Cregger taps his comedic origins (remember, he’s a Whitest Kids U’ Know veteran) without upending tense moments. Weapons chuckles emerge as little accents, like Anthony’s sudden excitement over stumbling on a Willow Blu-Ray as he ransacks a house. Skillful screenwriting chops ensure that any laughs never undermine the frights.

In fact, these brief bursts of humor or amusing background details make the world feel more real. Everyone’s got a story here. Much like any actual person’s existence, those yarns contain tonal multitudes. Folks like Anthony or Andrew Marcus (Benedict Wong) don’t just exist to inhabit a horror movie. They also scramble to get money at pawn shops or struggle picking out the right offshoot of Fruity Pebbles at the grocery store.

These tremendously entertaining character beats amplify the emotionally immersive qualities of Weapons. They also epitomize the subtlest details that chill you to the bone, including how the script quietly reinforces how terrifying it is when human beings don’t care about each other.

In his review of The Bikeriders, critic Walter Chaw observed that many Jeff Nichols’ features focus on American society punishing men who dare exhibit emotional vulnerability. Weapons similarly chronicles a world (exactly like our own) that demonizes empathy. Do not try to connect with others in times of crisis. After all, they only exist as victims or to victimize you. Cataclysms only lead to neighbors going at each other’s throats.

Fear not, though, moviegoers worrying that this all sounds like New Line Cinema somehow handed a Conjuring-level budget over to Pier Paolo Pasolini or Cristian Mungiu. Weapons works first and foremost as a crackling campfire tale. It’s an outstandingly riveting horror yarn bound to make even the most jaded scary cinema fan jump, quiver, and gasp. Like the very best genre films, it offers plenty of subtext and filmmaking craftsmanship to unpack, but also a deluge of immediate pleasure entertainment. Weapons functions in many artistic modes, including as a memorable showcase for Cregger and Ryan & Hays Holladay as terrific composers. It’s an absolute direct hit on all fronts.

Weapons sneaks out the front door and into theatres beginning August 9.

Weapons Trailer: