The Hunt

I watched The Hunt for the first time while wearing one mismatched wool sock and a single rubber flip-flop because I’d lost its partner under the radiator. Somehow, that state of chaotic disarray felt like the perfect wardrobe for a movie that spent its entire pre-release cycle being screamed at by people who hadn't even seen a trailer.

If you weren't online in late 2019, you missed a world-class meltdown. After a pair of tragic mass shootings, the media cycle sank its teeth into The Hunt—then titled Red State vs. Blue State—and didn't let go. Even the then-President weighed in on Twitter, calling it a movie made to "inflame and cause chaos." Universal Pictures got cold feet, pulled it from the schedule, and for a few months, it became the "forbidden" film of the MAGA era. When it finally limped into theaters in March 2020, it ran head-first into a literal global pandemic. Talk about bad luck. But here’s the thing: now that the dust has settled and the outrage machine has moved on to other targets, we’re left with a surprisingly sharp, mean-spirited, and deeply funny survival horror that hates everyone exactly the same amount.

The Art of the Bait-and-Switch

The setup is classic Most Dangerous Game territory. Twelve strangers wake up in a field with gags in their mouths and a crate of weapons in the middle of a clearing. Then, the bullets start flying. What makes the first act of Craig Zobel’s film so much fun is how it gleefully murders its own narrative. You see a recognizable face like Ike Barinholtz (Suicide Squad) or Emma Roberts, and your brain says, "Okay, that’s our protagonist." Then—thwip—they’re gone in a fountain of practical gore.

It’s a masterclass in subverting expectations. Just when you think you’ve settled into a standard slasher rhythm, Damon Lindelof (the mastermind behind The Leftovers and Watchmen) and Nick Cuse pull the rug out again. It’s a bold move that keeps you leaning forward, mainly because you genuinely don't know who is going to survive the next five minutes. It’s the kind of high-stakes tension that works specifically because the film doesn't mind being a total jerk to its characters.

The "hunters" are a group of hyper-liberal elites who have kidnapped "deplorables" based on a leaked group chat conspiracy. But the movie doesn't treat the hunters as sophisticated geniuses. They are insufferable, arguing about the cultural appropriation of certain avatars or whether it’s okay to use a certain slur while they are literally disemboweling someone. It’s a biting satire of "performative wokeness" that feels even more relevant now than it did four years ago.

Crystal: The Action Hero We Didn’t Know We Needed

Everything changes when we meet Crystal. If you only know Betty Gilpin from her brilliant turn in GLOW, you are not prepared for what she does here. Crystal is a veteran who has seen way worse than a few rich people with hunting rifles, and she approaches the entire "human hunt" with the weary annoyance of someone trying to deal with a broken vending machine.

Gilpin’s performance is one of the most unique "Final Girl" turns in modern horror. She barely speaks, using a series of bizarre facial tics and a permanent "are you kidding me?" squint to communicate. She is a tactical powerhouse. Watching her navigate a gas station trap—run by Wayne Duvall and Amy Madigan pretending to be sweet old locals—is a highlight of 2020 cinema. She doesn't have a political monologue; she just wants to get home. Gilpin's face should be registered as a lethal weapon.

The film eventually culminates in a kitchen showdown between Crystal and the mysterious Athena, played with icy, corporate detachment by Hilary Swank (Million Dollar Baby). It is one of the best-choreographed, most grounded, and yet utterly ridiculous fights in recent memory. No CGI capes, no world-ending stakes—just two women destroying a multi-million dollar kitchen with cheese graters and pots of boiling water.

A Time Capsule of Polarization

Looking back, The Hunt is a fascinatng artifact of the pre-COVID political landscape. It’s a "cult classic" not because it’s obscure, but because its reputation was built entirely on a misunderstanding. The people who thought it was a manual for elite violence were wrong, and the people who thought it was a simple conservative power fantasy were also wrong. It’s a mirror held up to the most annoying parts of the American discourse.

The trivia behind the scenes is almost as entertaining as the movie. For instance, the film was originally going to be much more explicitly partisan, but the writers pivoted to make it a commentary on how we perceive "the other side" through social media filters. Also, despite the "Manor" setting, most of the film was shot in New Orleans, which explains why everyone looks so perpetually sweaty. Interestingly, the film became one of the first "Home Premiere" successes; when theaters shut down just days after its release, Universal put it on VOD for $19.99, helping it find a second life among bored, quarantined audiences.

Is it a masterpiece? No. It’s a brawling, loud, satirical B-movie that occasionally trips over its own cleverness. But in an era of sanitized franchise films, there is something deeply refreshing about a movie that is willing to be this abrasive. It’s a reminder that sometimes the most dangerous thing isn't a hunter in the woods—it’s a group chat with a leak.

The Hunt is the ultimate "don't believe the hype" movie, proving that the internet is almost always wrong about what makes a film controversial. It’s a lean 90 minutes of adrenaline and snark that works best if you don't take it—or yourself—too seriously. If you’re looking for a survival thriller that packs a punch and a punchline in equal measure, this is a hunt worth joining. Just make sure you check your socks before you sit down.