The Babysitter

When I first sat down to watch The Babysitter on Netflix back in 2017, I was mostly just trying to avoid doing my laundry. I watched it on my laptop while my neighbor was very loudly practicing the trombone, which added a bizarrely discordant jazz-fusion vibe to the ritual sacrifice scenes that I honestly think improved the experience. I expected a disposable, mid-tier streaming horror movie—the kind of thing you put on for background noise while scrolling through your phone. Instead, I got a hyper-stylized, gory, and surprisingly sweet "Home Alone from Hell" that serves as one of the best examples of the "Netflix Original" era finding its feet.

The Scream Queen We Deserved

At the heart of why this movie works is Samara Weaving. Before she was fighting off wealthy in-laws in Ready or Not, she was Bee, the impossibly cool, pop-culture-quoting babysitter who feels like the only person in the world who "gets" young Cole (Judah Lewis). The first act plays like a standard coming-of-age indie. They talk about Star Trek, they dance, and they share a bond that feels genuine. Samara Weaving plays Bee with such a magnetic, predatory warmth that you’re right there with Cole; you’d stay up past your bedtime for her, too.

But when Cole decides to peek through the banister to see what happens after he falls asleep, the movie shifts gears violently. The transition from "cool teen hang-out" to "Satanic blood ritual" is jarring in the best way possible. McG, a director often criticized for his "too much-ness" in the Charlie's Angels films, finally found a sandbox where his music-video sensibilities actually make sense. The screen flashes with bold text, the colors are oversaturated, and the violence is operatic. It’s loud, it’s obnoxious, and for a horror-comedy about a kid fighting a cult, it’s exactly the right temperature.

A Cult with Character

Usually, the "villains" in a slasher movie are just there to be fodder or to look scary in the background. The Babysitter subverts this by making the members of Bee’s cult a hilarious collection of high school archetypes. Robbie Amell is a revelation here as Max, the shirtless jock who is surprisingly supportive of Cole’s growth even while trying to murder him. There’s a scene where Max encourages Cole to stand up for himself while they are in the middle of a life-or-death chase, and it’s one of the funniest subversions of the "bully" trope I’ve seen in years. horror movies usually treat high school archetypes like cardboard, but this one gives them actual comedic timing.

Then you have Bella Thorne as the cheerleader who takes a bullet to the chest and is more concerned about her social standing than her lungs, and Hana Mae Lee as the silent, creepy goth girl who brings a deadpan energy that balances out the frantic screaming. These aren't just monsters; they’re idiots. They represent the terrifying reality of being a kid: realizing that the older "cool" people you look up to are actually just insecure, dangerous messes who don't have a plan.

The Streaming Cult Classic

In the landscape of contemporary cinema, The Babysitter is a fascinating case study. It bypassed theaters entirely, dropping directly into the Netflix ecosystem during a time when the platform was desperate for "identity" films. It didn't need a huge opening weekend; it needed to be "shareable." And it was. The movie's blend of gore and humor made it a viral hit, spawning a dedicated fanbase that obsessed over the 2014 "Black List" script by Brian Duffield.

Apparently, the script was legendary in Hollywood circles for years before McG got his hands on it. It’s easy to see why. The dialogue is sharp, the pacing is relentless (it clocks in at a lean 85 minutes), and it respects the audience's intelligence. It knows you’ve seen Halloween and Friday the 13th, so it spends its time breaking the rules of those movies instead of reciting them. It’s a film that was designed for the "skip intro" generation—it gets to the point, hits you with a few "Wait, did that just happen?" moments, and gets out before the gimmick wears thin.

The Babysitter is a blast of pure, unadulterated energy that manages to be both a gross-out horror flick and a sincere story about a kid finding his backbone. It’s the perfect Friday night movie—light enough to enjoy with friends but clever enough to stick in your brain. While it might not have the historical weight of a 70s slasher, it’s a definitive artifact of the 2010s streaming boom: bold, colorful, and a little bit unhinged. If you haven't seen it yet, stay up past your bedtime. It’s worth the lack of sleep.