In a world where horror movies often feel like a race to the bottom, Passenger emerges as a cautionary tale of what happens when the genre’s most basic tropes are weaponized without soul. This vanlife horror film, directed by André Øvredal—a filmmaker who once crafted the eerie The Autopsy of Jane Doe—is a masterclass in why so many horror films fall into the trap of being ‘fun’ but not truly scary. It’s the kind of movie that makes you wonder: what if the genre’s most effective tools—jump scares, supernatural dread, and existential dread—were used not to unsettle, but to distract?
The Vanlife Mirage
There’s something oddly ironic about a horror film that revolves around vanlife, a lifestyle that’s supposed to symbolize freedom, yet here it’s reduced to a metaphor for existential limbo. Passenger follows Maddie and Tyler, two people who’ve traded their New York apartment for a van, only to find themselves trapped in a loop of supernatural terror. But what makes this so frustrating is that their characters are so flat they might as well be cardboard cutouts. I personally think the film’s writers failed to grasp that horror needs emotional stakes, not just a setting. When Maddie’s love for Bob Ross is mentioned as a key trait, it’s not just a joke—it’s a sign that the film is more interested in irony than in fear.
The Passenger: A Monster Without a Story
The film’s central horror, The Passenger, is a ghostly figure who pops up in front of you with a scream, but it’s so vague it’s almost comically unthreatening. Why? Because the script doesn’t bother to give it a coherent origin. The Passenger is a mix of St. Christopher, the Hobo Code, and a vaguely defined ancient evil, but none of it adds up. I find it fascinating how the film treats the unknown as a weakness, not a strength. In my opinion, the best horror is the stuff that makes you question what you see, not what you hear. Passenger tries to be both, but ends up being neither.
Jump Scares as a Substitute for Depth
One of the film’s most glaring flaws is its reliance on jump scares as a substitute for narrative tension. There’s a scene where a van drives over a field of corpses, and another where a camera slowly circles a character in a parking lot. These moments are designed to be shocking, but they’re so unoriginal they feel like they’ve been lifted from a B-grade slasher film. What many people don’t realize is that jump scares are a form of cheap entertainment, not true horror. Passenger tries to pretend it’s the latter, but it’s just the former.
The Horror of a Boring Ride
The film’s runtime is 94 minutes, but it feels twice that long because it’s so dull. I personally think the worst part is that the movie never gives you a reason to care. Even Diana, the character who serves as the film’s moral compass, is reduced to a voiceover that’s more exposition than character. The result is a road trip that’s not worth taking, even if you’re already stuck in a van.
A Genre in Crisis
Passenger is a symptom of a larger problem in horror: the industry’s obsession with shock value over substance. When a director like Øvredal tries to make a horror film, he’s not just making a movie—he’s making a statement about what the genre has become. I find it troubling that a film with such a basic premise and shallow characters is being marketed as a ‘scariest’ movie. It’s not scary. It’s just loud. And in a world where horror is often more about spectacle than suspense, that’s a dangerous trend.
Final Thoughts
So, is Passenger a bad movie? Not exactly. It’s a film that’s average, not terrible. But what it is is a reminder that horror needs more than jump scares and supernatural nonsense. It needs stories that make you feel, not just scare you. If you’re looking for a horror movie that’s worth watching, I’d suggest Obsession instead. It’s not perfect, but it knows how to build tension. Passenger? It’s a ride that’s not worth taking. And that’s the real horror of all this.
