‘Primate’ Review: Old-School Animal Attack Horror Is a Breath of Fresh Air
Primate is a gruesome crowd-pleaser packed with old-school brutality, balanced out by just enough silliness and camp to keep things fun and moving right along. It’s the kind of horror movie that understands exactly what it is without apology or sacrifice. In a genre moment that can feel overloaded with dour trauma allegories and metaphor-first storytelling, this was some much-needed and well-timed pulpy, nasty mayhem.
Personally, I’ve grown increasingly exhausted by horror that insists on being miserable or persisting in half-baked emotional allegory. There’s value in that mode, sure, but Primate arrives like a pressure powder keg: loud, bloody, and refreshingly unconcerned with teaching you a lesson. It wants to scare you, thrill you, and occasionally make you cup your mouth in disbelief at what you’re witnessing. Well, mission accomplished.
The film follows a group of characters who find themselves trapped in an isolated luxury Hawaiian mansion/compound after their domesticated chimpanzee Ben becomes violently infected with rabies, turning the surrounding paradise into a non-stop killing ground. As the body count rises, the movie wastes little time with backstory, instead prioritizing momentum, escalation, and increasingly gnarly set pieces. It’s lean, mean, and direct storytelling—built to keep the audience locked in. And oh boy, it sure does work.
Behind the camera, director Johannes Roberts (The Strangers: Prey at Night, V/H/S/99) once again proves he knows exactly how to deliver unpretentious, high-octane thrills. There’s big Cujo energy running through Primate, not just in its animal-attack DNA and pool-setting isolation but in how it frames fear as immediate, physical, and damn relentless. Roberts’ recent work has consistently favored forward motion over indulgence, and this one fits neatly alongside his earlier thrillers—only here, the scale is bigger and the violence far more … savage.
It’s also high time Roberts started receiving the same cultural reverence afforded to filmmakers like Ari Aster or Robert Eggers. While his work may not chase the same self-serious prestige lane, that distinction shouldn’t be mistaken for a lack of craft. If anything, Roberts represents a different but equally vital branch of modern horror: a filmmaker unafraid to play in the sandbox of fan-forward, fully unpretentious, self-aware genre cinema. His films prioritize mechanics—pacing, tension, escalation, and release—with the confidence of someone who deeply understands how fear and fun actually work. That kind of mastery may not always court awards-season discourse, but it’s no less essential to the health of the genre—and Primate makes a compelling case for Roberts as one of its modern masters.
One of the film’s smartest choices is to have an actor physically portray Ben rather than rely entirely on digital effects or animatronics. The result is a creature that feels real, present, and grounded. There’s a weight and alarm behind the chimp’s movements that gives the violence an unsettling heft. When Ben is on screen, you feel it—and that goes a long way toward selling the terror and the fun.
A few years ago, when everyone online was joking about their “Roman Empires,” the one that came directly to mind for me was rabies. People don’t seem to understand why, whenever I try to explain, but the disease is genuinely horrifying: I mean, one of its documented symptoms is terror itself. The way the virus induces hydrophobia—the body literally rejecting water—is deeply messed up. Primate joyously and stupidly taps into that same primal fear of infection and loss of control from that very first title card. It’s kinda dumb, but it’s darkly hysterical and perfect for horror.
And speaking of perfect for horror, the film’s music deserves serious praise. The score drives tension with propulsive, synth-heavy energy that occasionally feels like a conscious reference to Halloween, if it were composed by a zillennial on shrooms during a vacation in the jungle. And then there’s that Charli xcx needle-drop—an inspired choice that plays against the lush Hawaiian landscape and glossy mansion-pool setting. It’s fun-first curation at its finest.
Finally, we can’t leave the conversation without mentioning how Roberts remains a master of pool horror. From that superb neon-drenched axe-chase in The Strangers: Prey at Night to the majority of Primate, this guy understands how something designed for leisure can instantly become a nightmare. His set pieces here are consistently clean, cruel, and staged with confidence. The cast, too, knows exactly what movie they’re in, committing fully without ever winking too hard at the camera.
All in all, Primate is feral, brutal, and proudly entertaining, the kind of crowd-forward horror that reminds you why watching these movies with an audience still matters in a big fat way. If this turns into a franchise, I’ll be at the next one on opening night.
Editor’s Note: This is a second-take from Dread Central. We first reviewed the film at its Fantastic Fest world premiere.
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Primate
Summary
In a moment when genre feels overloaded with dour trauma allegories and metaphor-first storytelling, ‘Primate’ arrives swinging with some well-timed and seriously nasty animal attack mayhem.