Passenger – Review

Van life sells itself as freedom – endless roads, no fixed address, sunsets framed through open rear doors, and the comforting illusion that home can simply move wherever you roam. Horror movies naturally hear all that and immediately start wondering what might already be sitting in the back seat. Long stretches of empty highway, isolated parking lots, and the uncomfortable reality of living inside a metal box makes the entire lifestyle feel suspiciously overdue for a supernatural dissection and somewhere between Nomadland (2020) and a roadside nightmare between The Hitcher (1986) and Joy Ride (2001) lies Passenger, a film that takes inspiration from modern wanderlust and quietly asks one very reasonable question – what happens if something follows you home on your home on wheels?

Horror veteran André Øvredal (The Autopsy of Jane Doe, Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark) whose work on The Last Voyage of the Demeter (2023) already proved the Norwegian director understands how to trap people alongside things they absolutely should not be trapped with, and Passenger wastes little time settling into dread. An opening sequence filled with blaring horns, flashing warning lights and perfectly timed jump scares introduces the film’s central nightmare in the form of the Passenger himself, played with deeply unpleasant menace by Joseph Lopez (The Looming). Half-glimpsed at first, the figure has a habit guaranteed to ruin any road trip permanently – appearing unannounced in the back of vehicles like some demonic hitchhiker nobody invited aboard.

From there, the story locks onto newly engaged couple Maddie and Tyler, played by Lou Llobell (Foundation) and Jacob Scipio (Bad Boys: Ride or Die), who abandon their New York City apartment in favour of a carefully customised van decked out with all the comforts of home, including built-in cameras that naturally become very useful once terrifying things start appearing. Unlike many road-horror films content to strand characters on empty back roads, Passenger keeps much of its horror disturbingly close to civilisation. Maddie and Tyler embrace full van life culture, parking in suburban neighbourhoods, 24-hour gym car parks and anonymous roadside lots where safety always feels temporary. Somehow, fluorescent parking lot lighting and rows of sleeping RVs make everything even creepier.

Problems begin after the couple witnesses a horrific car crash in the middle of nowhere, only to realise afterward that they may not have left the scene alone. Passenger quickly settles into the familiar rhythm of a haunted-traveller horror story, with the entity attaching itself to Maddie and Tyler no matter how far they drive or how often they relocate. Rules surrounding the apparition emerge gradually through frantic online searches, whispered folklore and increasingly panicked attempts to understand more about the demonic entity.

To its credit, horror remains firmly in the driver’s seat. Writers Zachary Donohue (The Den) and T.W. Burgess (The Picket) resist allowing proceedings to drift too heavily into relationship drama territory, keeping Passenger operating as a straightforward haunted-road thriller that understands audiences primarily signed up to watch two terrified people desperately fail to outrun something impossible, even as Maddie and Tyler themselves remain fairly thinly sketched, with their characterisation often functioning as little more than connective tissue between scares. Sadly, they never quite develop enough personality to leave much of a lasting imprint beyond survival instinct and panic. 

But Øvredal compensates for thin characterisation through sheer control of atmosphere and pacing, gradually escalating Passenger into a relentless nocturnal panic attack lit almost entirely by headlights, brake lights, flickering petrol station signs and whatever weak illumination Maddie and Tyler can desperately cling to. Meanwhile, Lopez turns the Passenger into a genuinely unsettling presence, buried beneath grotesque prosthetics and digital touch-ups that make him feel like something unfinished and rotting that should never have existed in the first place. Every appearance lands with a nasty jolt because Øvredal rarely overplays him – sometimes the old man is simply there, wedged silently into the back of the van or standing impossibly far down an empty stretch of road, letting imagination do most of the damage before chaos erupts.

Some of Passenger’s strongest material arrives through surprisingly inventive spins on familiar horror mechanics. During one standout sequence, Maddie finds herself stranded alone in an empty car park while unexplained footsteps echo nearby and shadows seem to shift just outside her vision, and Øvredal sends the camera circling around her in slow, uneasy movements, turning open space into something suffocating. Another sequence transforms a familiar horror staple – shining a flashlight into dark woods searching for strange sounds – into an exercise in mounting panic. 

Night itself becomes part of the monster, since safety appears to exist only during daylight hours, darkness transforms roads into narrow corridors of dread where stopping no longer feels like an option. Claustrophobia settles over Passenger despite the endless highways around Maddie and Tyler, and cinematographer Benjamin Loeb (Pieces of a Woman) repeatedly weaponise surfaces audiences instinctively scan for reassurance, making every glance toward a window or mirror feel like a gamble. After all, road trips always warn people about unwanted passengers. Usually they mean annoying relatives… rarely do they mean Satan riding shotgun.

Momentum loses a little traction once the story reaches its final stretch, largely because supernatural horror often becomes shakier the more rules it insists on explaining. Mystery thrives in shadows, and once enough headlights get pointed directly at the monster, some of that unease naturally starts evaporating. Still, what comes before proves effective enough to carry the journey; and if nothing else, Passenger may single-handedly boost sales of St. Christopher medals, dashboard crosses and perhaps therapy for anyone planning a cross-country drive anytime soon.

Natalie

Natalie is a big fan of anything related to movies, TV shows, and anime — you name it. When she’s not reading or being a dedicated cinephile, she’s probably playing gacha and tabletop games, or daydreaming of Caleb from Love and Deepspace.