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Barbarian: The Airbnb from Hell

Barbarian begins as a traveler’s worst nightmare: that Airbnb you were counting on has been double-booked. It’s a dark and stormy night in a rundown neighborhood when Tess (Georgina Campbell) arrives at the home she rented online. She opens the lockbox and sees that the key is missing, but as she’s looking for it, a light goes on inside the house. Keith (Bill Skarsgård) opens the door and asks who she is and what she’s doing here so late. He has also rented this house, and he invites Tess inside so they can figure something out. Tess is cautious at first, but she learns she has a lot in common with Keith. All seems well until doors start to close on their own, footsteps echo along the hallways, and a dark labyrinth of tunnels is discovered beneath the house.

As many have noted, Barbarian is utterly out of control. It’s the sort of wild ride that’s best taken without too much prior knowledge. The film is also garnering comparisons to James Wans’ Malignant from 2021. Immediately exiting the theatre upon the film’s end, the comparison makes sense. Both have plot twists that are impossible to guess from the get-go (and even as the movie progresses) and both are unfathomably off the wall. The problem with Barbarian is that it is not controlled chaos. Of course, “controlled chaos” is antithetical to the definition of chaos, but in order for a “see-it-to-believe-it” movie to work, there must be a certain level of discipline.

Keith looks out from inside the house

Barbarian has an incredible set-up and first act. The meeting between Tess and Keith begins as it would in a popcorn horror flick, with dramatic musical stings when something spooky happens. Then, miraculously, Barbarian turns into a romance. It’s quite impressive to take the circumstances that brought Keith and Tess to this house and turn it into something charming. For just a moment, the audience forgets they signed up for a horror movie. The transition to the second act features a perfectly jarring cut, moving immediately from the horrors below to the sunny Pacific Coast Highway. Unfortunately, this jump is the signal that things are going to head downhill. It’s simply not enough to be unrestrained in storytelling, to show the most baffling, grotesque imagery possible. The film must create the illusion that the plot is going off the rails, while maintaining control throughout. Barbarian achieves that duality in the first act, but isn’t able to sustain it over the rest of the film.

While some suspension of disbelief is always required for the horror genre, Barbarian requires plenty of mental gymnastics. Medically, some characters suffer what seem to be life-ending injuries that only force them to limp. Intellectually, it does not make sense why Tess would stay in that Airbnb after she discovers the horrors below, nor do the logistics of the basement labyrinth make sense. But again, some disbelief is necessary, and it would be easier to forgive these deficiencies if the film had managed to stick the landing.

Tess in the tunnel using her cell phone as a light

What Barbarian excels at is the ebb and flow of tension. None of the big scares feel cheap or unwarranted because they’re so spread out. The moments of terror feel genuinely earned because there isn’t something lurking around every corner. The audience knows something is lurking somewhere, they just don’t know where. The music doesn’t crescendo to give it away, the horror appears from the darkness, leaving the audience to strain their eyes to see if they can find the terror before it gets them. The camera is tight, adding to the claustrophobic feeling of being trapped in the basement labyrinth. Despite all the logistical questions, it’s hard not to lose yourself in the fear that’s steadily building. When Tess’ flashlight begins to flicker and the entire theatre is drenched in flashes of darkness, that basement feels very real.

Without giving away the brutal twists and turns of Barbarian, it’s safe to say that two of the film’s core themes are toxic masculinity and motherhood. They aren’t really explored, though, just mildly alluded to before returning to the nonstop gross-out show. It’s exhausting to an extent. After Jordan Peele’s Get Out, the number of horror movies trying to hide heavy themes under the masks of their monsters is skyrocketing. None are able to reach the heights of Peele’s films, and instead ask the audience to do the legwork of blending the horror with social criticism. Barbarian clearly wants to say something about Reagan-era politics, Detroit’s urban decay, and sexual assault, but isn’t that interested in developing its metaphors.

It’s impossible to deny the wild ride that awaits anyone who pushes play on Barbarian, but having high expectations may spoil the fun.

Written by Tina Kakadelis

News Editor for Film Obsessive. Movie and pop culture writer. Seen a lot of movies, got a lot of opinions. Let's get Carey Mulligan her Oscar.

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