When very little was known about Zach Cregger’s latest film, Weapons, there was one exciting kernel of information that jolted many cinephiles. Cregger made reference to Paul Thomas Anderson’s masterful 1999 film, Magnolia, as having given him “permission” to make his solo sophomore film an epic. That ambition is very much felt in the bones of Weapons. It’s undeniable. Unfortunately, it doesn’t fully feel like the end result is anywhere near as enticing. This is a film that reveled in its secrets and, for a fair swath of the runtime, embraced the chilling ambiguity of its logline. It’s unfair to compare two films such as Magnolia and Weapons, but one can’t help but latch onto the immense similarities between the two films. It also can’t be helped when coupled with the memory of such a bold reference being made in the first place. This won’t be a direct look into the similarities and contrasts between the two films, but the stark differences in the impact of their styles and storytelling devices used is telling.
Magnolia thrives in its ambiguity. The entire film is built around the idea of coincidence and a complete inability to see the path in front of us. It would be wonderful if we could map out the entire course of our lives before we set out. Unfortunately, that’s not the case. And even if it were, something would inevitably cause a roadblock. Whether it be a minor inconvenience or an earth-shattering tragedy, that disruption is something both films innately understand about the human condition. It’s in that understanding that both films thrive. But it’s the levels of commitment to depicting such unknowns where the two films differ. This space is where Cregger appears to get in his own way with regards to the mystery of Weapons.
It should be stated that, despite several misgivings with Weapons, it’s an undeniably exciting film. Its originality is a testament to Cregger’s ability to spin a massive web out of a simple, yet layered, idea. It’s full of bold, stylish filmmaking, which seems to confirm Cregger as another contemporary horror directing icon. There’s also no problem with a young filmmaker wearing their inspirations on their sleeve. After all, who of us doesn’t also adore Magnolia and the oeuvre of PTA? Where Weapons instead disappoints is in its desire to seemingly rationalize much of the mystery it presents to its audience. The logline of Weapons is as effective an idea for a horror film as any. That haunting mystery is what fuels much of its first two chapters. In Justine (Julia Garner) and Archer’s (Josh Brolin) desires to know more, Cregger delivers the most interesting angle Weapons has to offer in terms of emotional and thematic resonance. As teacher and grieving parent, respectively, Justine and Archer cope with the facts, or lack thereof, as best they can. We see how people can turn to their vices. We see how conspiracies can take over the mind. We see the effects depression, anger, or complete numbness has on an individual, a family unit, and a town at large. Good intentions become twisted into something that can then be manipulated. Through all the ambiguity present in the first act of Weapons, Cregger allows his audience to grapple with the painful truths of reality.
The first act of Weapons is grim; that’s said with nothing but complimentary praise. In trying to pick up the pieces as an audience member, we ultimately begin to latch our own ideas about grief and tragedy onto the events of the film. That feeling is so omnipresent in the first section, where characters are forced to reckon with an event that cannot be rationalized, reversed, or even plainly understood. There’s a fear that it may happen again if nothing is learned from the experience. How were the sturdy walls of suburban happiness, peace and comfort so easily infiltrated? The questions regarding the unknowns of Weapons are its greatest strength. Needless pain and suffering, if it must be endured, should surely bring some sort of better understanding of the world around us? Weapons is at its most effective while exploring those questions. Despite the fun genre-fueled answers Cregger conjures up by his finale, it’s almost a shame that the film feels the obligation to provide closure to its central mystery. The characters in Weapons are shown to be broken, some irrevocably. The suburban mundanity in this small town has been shattered. The dam has been broken, and it leaves plenty for audiences to chew on! But there’s much more to Weapons, and that’s made crystal-clear by the third act.
The climax of this film, in particular, is absolute madness. It’s an undeniable cinematic riot, but the question may come up as to whether or not it’s earned. That feels a bit irrelevant when it’s such a bloody good time that genre fans will undoubtedly eat up. The real question should be whether or not the film has lost a bit of its steam by this point. And to examine that is to break down whether the very structure of Weapons works. The film is broken into chapters which follow the POV of a character previously introduced. Magnolia has been described as a mosaic through its structure and use of a large ensemble cast. Cregger forms his basis of Weapons around this layered structure, albeit here, the approach feels less interesting. Each new sequence takes us a bit further back in time to reveal a new string of information. It’s clever enough, but it almost feels like more of a crutch than it does an essential method of telling the story. Not only does it reset any previous tension built up, but it unfortunately makes several of these characters feel paper thin. The chapters feel more akin to vignettes that exist solely to dispense information to the audience. In the final chapter, much is revealed, and it’s more deflating than anything as previously written. It features an excellent performance in Aunt Gladys (a truly frightening Amy Madigan), and the finale is undoubtedly reinvigorating. But then, the film ends on a deeply haunted note. And while that note excitingly leaves much to ponder, it brings into question why the mystery and commitment in tone was abandoned in the first place.
Admittedly, Weapons is a film that is as scary as it is funny. Cregger can deftly swap back and forth between tones on a scene-to-scene basis. But when looking at the entire picture, those tonal shifts muddy the final product a bit. One can’t help but think of the final moments of the film. It details a shattering acceptance of our inability to fathom such pain. A profound loss can break us completely. And if we force that pain out of the public consciousness as a way of self-preservation, are we not dooming ourselves to an endless loop of emotional distress? If that’s the case, why even attempt to reveal what happened in the actual plot of the film? Leaving it all to the audience feels like it would make for a much more emotionally and intellectually resonant film. With Weapons, Cregger feels like he wants to make a statement about such loss and how it’s impossible to fully, and immediately, relieve ourselves of that pain. Sure, there can be catharsis in a way that genre cinema delivers so well. But the most impactful ideas of this film negate that surface-level response a bit. That’s not to say Cregger must choose one side of the genre coin while making his films, but in choosing both with his latest, the whole suffers a bit.