
A Road Trip You’ll Never Forget
It is a rare feat for a horror film to command the attention of an audience from the very first frame, but André Øvredal’s Passenger does exactly that.
As someone who appreciates the technical craft of filmmaking, I find this film to be an absolute masterclass in tension, sound design, and the utilisation of negative space. The premise is deceivingly simple: a young couple witnesses a gruesome highway accident, only to realise that they have inadvertently invited something malevolent-the entity known only as ‘The Passenger’-into their own vehicle. From that moment, the film shifts into a relentless, high-stakes game of survival that feels less like a traditional supernatural thriller and more like a visceral, claustrophobic nightmare.
The brilliance of the screenplay, penned by T.W. Burgess and Zachary Donohue, lies in its ability to strip away the safety of the open road.
Just as Jaws fundamentally altered the public’s relationship with the ocean, Passenger serves as a modern cautionary tale that will undoubtedly make viewers think twice about long-haul night driving. The narrative is driven by an oppressive, mounting sense of dread that never relents, ensuring that the tension remains at a breaking point from the opening act through to the final, chilling frame. It is a rare example of a horror movie that respects the intelligence of its audience, focusing on atmospheric build-up rather than relying on cheap jump scares to move the plot forward.
The opening sequence is, without hyperbole, one of the most effective scenes I have experienced in recent years. It is a technical marvel of pacing and practical staging, setting a tone of visceral unease that persists long after the credits roll.
I can easily imagine this scene becoming a staple of horror discourse, the kind of moment that gets recounted around campfires and analysed in film forums for its sheer intensity. Øvredal, who has long demonstrated a keen eye for genre subversion, brings a level of directorial polish to this project that elevates it far above the typical summer horror release.
What makes Passenger particularly relevant, and perhaps even more terrifying, is its setting.
By cantering the story on the universal experience of a road trip, the filmmakers tap into a primal, shared vulnerability.
When you are confined in a car in the middle of the night, the road ahead becomes a void, and the interior of the vehicle becomes your entire world. The sound design is a character in its own right here; every creak of the car frame, every hiss of the tires on damp asphalt, and every subtle shift in the ambient noise is calibrated to keep the audience’s nerves on edge. It is a cinematic experience that demands the acoustics and the sheer scale of a theatre to be fully appreciated.
For those of us in the filmmaking community, Passenger is an essential study in how to maintain momentum across a tight 94-minute runtime. There is no bloat, no unnecessary exposition, and no wasted movement. The pacing is deliberate, allowing the psychological strain on the protagonists to bleed into the audience. As the couple realises they cannot outrun the entity that has hitched a ride in their periphery, the film spirals into a masterfully handled supernatural pursuit that feels both ancient and dreadfully modern.
Passenger is a triumph of the supernatural horror genre. It is a film that recognises that the most terrifying journeys are the ones where you have nowhere left to run.
It perfectly captures the isolation of the highway and turns it into a prison of shifting shadows and relentless pursuit. Whether you are a casual fan of the genre or a seasoned filmmaker looking for inspiration on how to build and hold tension, this film is a mandatory watch.
With road trips approaching and summer (and winter) school breaks on the horizon, this is the perfect, chilling accompaniment to the season.
It is, quite simply, one of the most effective and enjoyable horror films to hit the big screen in years.
Showing in cinemas from Friday, 22 May.
-Dirk Lombard Fourie