The Real ‘Barbarian’

T here’s a big ol’ twist not too far into Zach Cregger’s cleverly named and adroitly presented horror film Barbarian, the sort that publicists ask critics not to reveal, and that most viewers would probably prefer to experience on their own. Fair enough. Happily, there’s enough going on in the pre-twist part to give a sense of the whole, starting with that title. “Barbarian” is a pejorative term for an uncivilized person — not merely simple or rough, but nastily, even dangerously so. It calls to mind the uncouth and the unclean, and perhaps rightly so. But of course, there are many sorts of uncleanliness. As Jesus notes in Mark’s Gospel, “There is nothing outside of a person that by going in can defile, but the things that come out are what defile. . . . It is from within, from the human heart, that evil intentions come.” The film’s primary setting — a short-term vacation rental on Barbary Lane (oh ho ho!) in Detroit’s Brightmoor neighborhood (itself pretty uncivilized, what with all the burned-out, rotting, abandoned homes) — winds up playing host to more than one candidate for the title’s referent.

One person it probably doesn’t refer to is Tess (Georgina Campbell), the young woman who arrives at the house just after we do, pulling up on a rainy night and rejecting a phone call before heading up the weedy walkway to the tiny porch. But once there, she discovers that her Airbnb has already been rented and occupied via HomeAway by big-eyed Keith (Bill Skarsgård). He’s understandably grumpy and befuddled, having just been dragged out of bed by a stranger at his door who doesn’t think he should be there, but he recovers himself enough to invite her in out of the rain while they get things sorted. Tess hesitates, and the viewer’s journey into anxiety begins. Can you trust him? He’s a man; of course not. Sure, he seems nice, but . . .

That’s when Barbarian starts to have some queasy-making fun. The hosts left a bottle of wine; would Tess like some? Or just tea? No, thanks, she’s fine. But Keith’s making tea for himself, so he’ll just make a cup for her. Considerate or pushy? Friendly or nefarious? He’s a man . . . Cut to overhead shot of tea in cup, the liquid all black and mysterious. Tess doesn’t touch it, so later, Keith awkwardly offers to let her watch him open the wine. Look, you can trust me. I’m not drugging the wine. Well, yeah, except wine is a drug already. The evening progresses, and Tess relaxes — to the point where she talks about that caller she rejected at the outset. An ex who confused love and control, leading to a woman who makes herself into some kind of pet. She’s feeling comfortable; the viewer, hearing this sort of talk, is feeling just the opposite. Didn’t Keith say he was part of a band called The Lion Tamers? Sure, it’s a reference to being an artist in Detroit, but now Tess is talking about how the girl always winds up getting her heart ripped out of her chest. And why does Keith have to use the term “locked in” when he’s considering toxic dynamics?

By the time Keith drapes himself in a duvet cover — it’s his patented method for getting the duvet in smoothly, but of course it makes him look like a cartoon ghost — Tess is giggling, and the viewer is squirming. Good grief, she’s not even going to lock her bedroom door! And now it’s the middle of the night! And the door is open! Yeah, yeah: Keith is asleep on the couch, having a nightmare and moaning in fear. But how’d that door get open? You see what comes of letting down your guard? We haven’t even gotten to the part where Tess descends the basement stairs in search of toilet paper, and already, our nerves are fraying.

Once she gets down there, Tess discovers a rope that disappears into a hole in the wall. She pulls it, because of course she does, and it opens a hidden door that leads to the sort of room you might expect but definitely do not want to find behind a hidden door in a basement. And so we come to the twist, which takes the story out of basic “What’s in the dark space under the ground?” thriller territory and into the more murky (and frankly darker) realm of “Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?” Well, we do, thanks to all that gradually building tension between Campbell and Skarsgård.

What follows is not perfectly realized: The film works too hard to grant a supernatural character to a subnatural phenomenon and betrays a deep lack of faith in its own narrative abilities by bringing in an extra character to deliver a heaping helping of explanation. There were times when I thought it blinked when it should have stared, overusing humor in order to grant some relief from its nightmare scenario. But it is pleasingly intelligent about how it manifests its themes, and confident enough in the horror of its proceedings to eschew jump scares and gratuitous grossness. Mind you, Barbarian gets gross, but it earns it.