I thought puzzle horror was a thing of the past. Not that it was the first of its kind, but 1997’s The Game rekindled this trend. In The Hunt, death comes from all sides and you won’t know what hit you. Jab, jab, hook! This film isn’t just unpredictable, it’s counterintuitive. By the time you understand who the main protagonist is, you’ve already distrusted most of the cast.
Indeed, the first act is extremely disorienting. During the futile exposition phase, we’re tricked into caring for characters who, it turns out, don’t even have a name. The gore is extreme and abundant. Lots of guns, lots of explosives, lots of traps; this is a conservative’s wet dream come true. Right? In fact, Screenwriters Nick Cuse and Damon Lindelof are corrosive when it comes to politics.
The Hunt doesn’t necessarily have an agenda, but it hates political extremities. It basically trims the fat. If you’re a gun lover, if you’re obsessed with climate change, if you love or reject God, or if you’re a racist, you need to be dealt with. Like the grim reaper, the script is on a karmic mission to kill the archetypes its writers would like to see suffer. It’s a bold move. It’s brutal!