Anyone trying to market a film these days faces an uphill battle. Apart from the COVID crisis of 2020, the number of films released every year has increased Sharp, steady growth every year since the 2000sand as streaming platforms give viewers more options than ever about where and when they can watch movies, the audience for any given release has fragmented dramatically, making it increasingly difficult for smaller films to find traction. Positive, enthusiastic, organic word of mouth remains one of the best ways for any film to find its audience – but true word of mouth recommendations have become quite rare. And then there’s 2022 Barbarian.
The marketing for Zach Cregger’s controversial horror film was built around secrecy, with an initial trailer that did just that only gives a broad outline of where the story is going – it’s clear that it’s a scary movie about Something Bad Happening, but the actual horror subgenre and the direction of the plot are purposefully left unclear. That sense of anticipation and uncertainty is something every horror movie needs, even if only a few get it, especially the franchise entries where every beat is expected in advance. And Cregger took full advantage of that, building so much tension in different aspects of the story that it’s not clear which one will be the trigger until the trap springs shut on the audience.
Georgina Campbell (Birdhouse Barcelona) stars as Tess, a woman who visits Detroit for a high-stakes job interview. However, when she arrives at her Airbnb, there is already a man in residence: Keith (Bill Skarsgård), who claims he booked the house for the same period on another website. His story is true, and he is clearly aware of Tess’s nervousness about sharing the living space with a strange man. But late at night, in a sketchy neighborhood during a blinding rainstorm, with all the local hotels booked for a conference, Tess’s options are limited, and she is persuaded to stay the night.
That would be all an indie horror director would need for a certain kind of stripped-down, efficient, ultra-low-budget thriller — the kind where the tension arises organically from the subtle unknowns of getting close to a stranger who might be a predator. a liar, both or neither. In the first act of the film, Cregger draws a lot of discomfort from small details, such as the way Keith looks at Tess at certain moments: he mirrors Norman Bates who shyly admires Marion Crane in Psychothough I dare not express any open attraction. Or the way the low lighting in the home tends to both silhouette in doorways or against lamps, turning “standing in a room” into “looming ominously in the shadows.”
Every time Tess hears a strange noise, walks alone to her car, or sees a screaming stranger quickly approaching, it feels like another escalation, the kind of “Ohhhh, here it comes” moment that horror fans live for. But when the public starts to discover what Barbarian what it’s really about, it’s still a mind-boggling shock – and it was that shock that horror fans were really talking about Barbarian like a classic ‘go in blind and give this film your full attention’ experience.
But that said, what mattered Barbarian a lasting experience rather than just a short-term buzz topic is the way it sticks in the memory even after the initial shocks have worn off. Campbell and Skarsgård’s performances are alluring and intricate, and the dynamic between them is layered enough to invite viewers to empathize with both Tess and Keith. There is an awareness on both sides in Cregger’s script that asks the audience to consider their perspectives simultaneously: it would be uncomfortable to be a woman navigating the unknown when stuck in a small space with a man whose intentions are unclear. But it’s just as awkward to be a man in the same setting, trying to appear innocuous, good-natured and friendly, and yet seeing his counterpart flinch every time he moves, laughs or what he perceives as a friendly gesture.
And Barbarian goes beyond that in exploring life in a city, considering the economic downturn that reshapes neighborhoods and the lives of those who live there, and considering the melancholy of people left behind when the economy is left without them further. It’s a rich film in subtle ways, one that invites discussion afterwards and plays out in a way that most shock-based horror films don’t.
Barbarian‘s box office run tells an interesting story: in an era when even intended blockbusters can press streaming so fast that digital rental runs can compete with canceled theater performances, Cregger’s film stayed in theaters for months. It wasn’t a huge financial blow: it made $45 million worldwide, albeit on a budget of about a tenth of that. But the number of theaters it was in grew from week to week instead of shrinking, and each new weekend saw another significant revival in viewership instead of the expected slow decline. (The deadline said it was “It’s holding up quite spectacularly” compared to the usual weekly decline for horror films.)
Barbarian was backed by a whisper campaign that said You have to see this movie to believe it. And this experience should not be missed. And Every true horror fan must have seen this film. With no major stars, no big-name IP, and no obvious major plot hook, it still generated enough curiosity that a sizable audience still found it in theaters six weeks after its release. Then it hit Max and Netflix, and was a hit there too.
But the past few years Barbarian has quietly dropped off the radar: it left Max, it left Netflix, and it will leave Amazon Video on Halloween. It’s still on Hulu for now, but the initial fascination has faded in recent years. Now that the spooky season is coming to an end, and Barbarian‘s rise to prominence on subscription streaming services, it’s a good time to catch up on the film that PR people continue to wield as a shamanic talisman when they want to suggest that the latest project they’re selling is a must-see film could well become a viral hit. “This could be next Barbarian!” is still a pretty compelling promise, but it helps if you’ve already seen the great horror movie they’re trying to borrow the success from.