Hunting Season

There is a specific, gravel-flecked frequency of "growl" that only Mel Gibson can achieve these days, and in Hunting Season, he uses it like a power tool. He plays Bowdrie, a man who looks like he’s been carved out of a piece of old hickory and left in the rain too long. We’ve seen this archetype before—the reclusive survivalist who just wants to be left alone with his secrets and his woodpile—but there’s a reason these roles keep getting funded in the 2020s. We’re obsessed with the idea of the "competent man" retreating from a world that’s become too loud, too digital, and too complicated.

I watched this one on a Tuesday night while my cat was having a 3:00 AM-style existential crisis with a piece of crinkle-wrap in the kitchen, and honestly, the low-frequency dread of the film matched the mood perfectly. Hunting Season doesn’t try to reinvent the wheel, but it does try to make sure the wheel is heavy enough to crush whatever it rolls over.

Survival of the Grittiest

The setup is classic thriller architecture: Bowdrie and his daughter, Tag (played with a watchful, sharp-edged energy by Sofia Hublitz, who many will recognize from Ozark), find a wounded woman named January (Shelley Hennig) by the river. Taking her in is the "inciting incident" that brings a storm of professional violence to their doorstep, led by the reliably menacing Jordi Mollà as Alejandro.

Director Raja Collins, making a jump from the producer’s chair to the lens, treats the wilderness not as a beautiful backdrop, but as a silent character that’s actively trying to trip you. The cinematography avoids the oversaturated "Discovery Channel" look that plagues a lot of modern survival films. Instead, it opts for a muted, almost bruised color palette. It feels cold. You can almost smell the damp pine needles and the gun oil.

The script by Adam Hampton—a writer who seems to have a patent on "men with secrets in the woods"—keeps the dialogue sparse. This is a film that trusts its actors' faces more than its lines. Gibson can do more with a squint and a labored breath than most actors can do with a three-page monologue, and Shelley Hennig does a lot of heavy lifting as the catalyst for the chaos. She isn't just a "damsel"; she’s a person with a history that’s catching up to her at a hundred miles an hour.

The Mechanics of the Hunt

Where Hunting Season distinguishes itself from the endless sea of VOD actioners is in the weight of its violence. In an era where many action films have become "John Wick-ified"—all neon lights and balletic, bloodless headshots—this film goes the other way. The action here feels like a series of car wrecks: messy, desperate, and loud. When Bowdrie finally has to pick up a weapon, it doesn't feel like a superhero putting on a cape; it feels like an old machine being forced back into gear.

The sound design deserves a shout-out. The "thwack" of an arrow or the boom of a shotgun in a quiet forest carries a physical impact. Anders Niska’s score avoids the generic orchestral swells, opting instead for something more percussive and unsettling that keeps your heart rate just slightly above resting.

However, the film does hit a few speed bumps in the second act. There’s a stretch where the pacing slows down to a crawl to establish the bond between the trio, and while it's necessary for the stakes, it occasionally feels like the movie is waiting for the catering truck to arrive before the next shootout. We know where this is going—a final, bloody confrontation—and the middle-stretch "bonding" scenes feel a bit like checking boxes on a screenplay software template.

A Relic of the New Frontier

Releasing a film like this in 2025 is an interesting choice. We’re deep into the era of "Dad Thrillers"—films designed for a certain demographic that values practical effects, stoic heroes, and clear-cut stakes. In a landscape dominated by multiverses and CGI sky-beams, there’s something almost rebellious about a movie that’s just about three people in a cabin trying not to die.

Jordi Mollà brings a flavor of villainy that feels very "now." He isn't a cartoonish baddie; he’s a professional doing a job, representing a type of corporate-level brutality that feels more threatening than a guy in a mask. His chemistry with the rest of the cast is what elevates this from a standard "home invasion" flick to something more psychological.

It’s also worth noting the presence of A.J. Buckley (from SEAL Team) and James DuMont. They fill out the world of the film, making it feel like this story is happening in a real place with real history, rather than a generic "Film Location: Forest." This is a Beno Films production, a company that has carved out a niche for these mid-budget, high-intensity genre pieces that often find their true life on streaming platforms after a brief theatrical run.

Hunting Season is a sturdy, well-built piece of genre cinema that knows exactly what it wants to be. It doesn’t have the "instant classic" aura of Gibson’s Blood Father (directed by Jean-François Richet), but it’s a far cry better than the disposable action fodder filling up the bottom rows of your favorite streaming app. It’s a film about the cost of survival and the fact that you can never truly bury the past—you just get better at hiding the shovel. If you’re looking for a dark, intense night in front of the screen with a drink in your hand, you could do a lot worse than following Bowdrie into the woods. Just don't expect everyone to make it back out.