It takes time for creative mediums to reflect their political moment. The cheap, easy answer is Trump. The harder answer is the violence of class, inequality, and privilege. Ready or Not is, primarily, a vodka shot of anxious fun, where the effortlessly charming Samara Weaving is thrown into escalating murder boxes, and you're left wondering how she's going to escape. Escape, of course, typically means she's asked to sacrifice yet another pound of flesh before a chance at freedom arrives.

Ready or Not is the kind of movie I don't often see at a theater anymore, but is absolutely a movie made for a crowd. You're meant to cheer in delight, scream in horror, and grip the arm of the person next to you as the tension drags you through the mud. It's full of big, chartoonish characters you positively know are going to die in uproarious ways from the moment the movie starts, and is full of the same (if obviously less clever) twists and turns that made a movie like Knives Out so damn fun. Patient inevitability is part of the joy.

It's a very blunt movie with a blunt point—rich people, conceptually, are inherently corrupt and cannot be trusted to help those beneath them without a fight—but whose bluntness gives the violence weight. It helps that, within seconds, you buy into the romance at the movie's core, giving the absurdist concept of Ready or Not some much needed gravity. It's violent, but not indulgently so. It chooses its moments.

And god, that ending. That ending! Bravo.