Zach Cregger, the visionary writer-director behind 2022’s brilliantly deranged “Barbarian,” returns with his latest horror offering, “Weapons,” a film that significantly expands the scope and potency of his sinister powers of suggestion. The movie plunges audiences into a suburban nightmare in Maybrook, Pennsylvania, where, at 2:17 a.m. on a school night, 17 third-grade children from Justine Gandy’s class mysteriously vanish, leaving only a shy boy named Alex behind. This chilling premise sets the stage for a mystery that police and local authorities are unable to solve, echoing a successful horror subgenre that embraces ambiguity, reminiscent of films like “Hereditary” and “Longlegs.”

Cregger's narrative is made all the more unconventional by its choice to let a local girl describe the ostensibly supernatural events, raising questions about her limited perspective on the shocking and often gory occurrences that follow. The film avoids focusing on a single protagonist, instead splintering the mystery among six key characters—the teacher Justine (Julia Garner), the parent Archer Graff (Josh Brolin), a cop (Alden Ehrenreich), a school administrator (Benedict Wong), and two others whose identities are best discovered by the viewer. The story masterfully rewinds with each new section, replaying crucial scenes from different perspectives, with each “prismatic shard” offering fresh insights and meticulously fitting together like an expertly designed puzzle.

The close-to-home setting and cast of imperfect, relatable characters evoke the essence of a Stephen King novel that King himself never penned. As the children remain unaccounted for, the film cleverly allows the audience’s imaginations to run wild, fostering associations ranging from QAnon-style conspiracies to the painful aftermath of a school shooting, where parents desperately seek answers, consolation, and blame. Josh Brolin’s portrayal of Archer Graff, a hot-tempered father whose son Matt is among the missing, powerfully channels the real-world frustration of parents confronting school personnel and policies, tapping into resonant phobias that lend “Weapons” much of its unsettling power.

For the majority of its runtime, “Weapons” maintains a grimly self-serious tone, amplified by Larkin Seiple’s steady-handed camerawork and a score designed to make bones vibrate. However, the film takes an unexpected campy turn with the arrival of Amy Madigan as Aunt Gladys, a character all but unrecognizable behind her smeared clown-like makeup and uneven eyeballs. Gladys, who appears more than halfway through, blends humor and repulsion, creating a distinctive figure that embodies a Mary Poppins-like satanic stand-in, cut from the same cloth as Nicolas Cage’s kooky “Longlegs” performance. As the narrative progresses, the violence escalates, and the film’s title becomes starkly clear: the community is made up of