“In the slaughterhouse of secrets, every scream is a confession.”
Meathook (2025) slices its way into the horror genre as a blood-soaked slasher that blends classic gore with modern psychological terror. Directed by Fede Álvarez (Evil Dead, Don’t Breathe), the film resurrects the gritty spirit of ‘70s and ‘80s horror, delivering relentless violence and eerie atmosphere for fans hungry for raw, old-school scares.
Set in the remote outskirts of a rust-belt town, the story follows a group of college friends who become stranded during a storm after a road trip gone wrong. Seeking shelter in an abandoned meat-packing plant, they soon discover the building’s gruesome history and the horrifying presence lurking within—the monstrous figure known only as Meathook, a towering killer wielding a blood-rusted hook and hiding a past soaked in tragedy and rage.
Visually, Meathook is a grim spectacle: flickering fluorescent lights, wet concrete floors glistening with blood, and shadows that seem to move on their own. Álvarez crafts scenes of stomach-churning suspense punctuated by brutal kills, each designed to keep audiences gasping and covering their eyes. The film’s soundscape creaks and groans, layering tension like a tightening noose.
But beneath the blood and screams, Meathook carves out psychological horror. Survivors begin to unravel, questioning whether Meathook is just a man—or a monstrous embodiment of collective guilt and generational trauma. The killer’s origins are revealed in chilling flashbacks, adding unexpected depth to the terror.
By the shocking finale, Meathook (2025) stands as a ferocious addition to the modern slasher canon. It’s a film that asks whether true horror lies in monsters we run from—or those we carry inside ourselves.
