Forgo some of the made-for-TV jank and you're left with a competent, drama-led thriller about trauma, guilt and the rippling effects these emotions have on those afflicted. Some will bemoan it's drama focus and glacial pace, especially with the Blumhouse monikor atop the poster, but if you prefer your thrillers more understated I think you'll have a decent time with The Passenger. It's not perfect, but what's here is good with some extra fat to chew on after your viewing is over. [spoiler]While I'm probably not as disturbed as either Randy or Benson, I did relate with the former on a pretty personal level. Randy has sunken into himself, hiding away and removing himself to avoid any chance he may disturb or alter anyone elses life following a troubling childhood experience. This is to the detriment of his personal relationships and prospects, but lessens the chance of conflict or change to almost zero. He is also at the beck and call of his overbearing mother, who is equally protective as she is hindering. To say I see myself in this character would be an understatement, and is a large part of why this movie was so gripping to me. It did make me self reflect and think about maybe reaching out to old friends, and putting myself out there a bit more instead of hiding away all the time. I guess that's the sign of good art; when it personally speaks to you and possibly affects change. [/spoiler]

TheBlueFuton YouTube channel did a review on this and put it on my radar. Worth a watch, solid performances and it engaged me like a good movie should. I kept getting vibes of Falling Down, Fight Club (teeny bits) and We Need To Talk About Kevin. Avoids the cliche of making the lead an anti hero. Gut punch type of movie that stands or falls based on the performance of the leads who were great.

A movie that I can't make sense of, sometimes it seems like a cult American highway movie, right when you think the subject is about to get out of hand, it continues like a slackness in Journey to Peace. A movie that tries to give a forced message but can neither give it its message nor present a narrative. In other words, I found it boring and didn't like it.

What makes “The Passenger” an intriguing film isn’t the conventional hostage plot but the way it subverts expectations around that premise. Carter Smith directs the story as if he’s more interested in making the audience uncomfortable than delivering a cohesive plot or redeemable characters. And that’s exactly where the film holds its ground: in the raw, claustrophobic tension of watching two emotionally dysfunctional men trapped in a spiral of violence, trauma, and, above all, passivity. What starts with an unexpected diner massacre quickly turns into a character study that challenges any sense of sympathy or connection. You don’t like Randy and Benson—and the film doesn’t try to convince you otherwise. Johnny Berchtold plays Randy with a fragility that’s almost unbearable. He’s not your typical “reluctant anti-hero” who eventually finds a spark of courage within. Randy is a textbook coward, but not the kind that earns empathy. His inability to react, to assert himself, to simply say “no” is almost more disturbing than the violent act that kicks off the plot. He’s the embodiment of emotional emptiness, someone who lets life drag him along—literally—without any resistance. And that’s fascinating precisely because it’s frustrating. Jack Stanley’s script seems aware of this frustration and leans into it, stretching the discomfort to the edge of what an audience can tolerate. On the flip side, Kyle Gallner turns Benson into an antagonist who, despite his brutality, never fits the calculated psychopath stereotype. His violence doesn’t have a clear purpose beyond the sheer release of rage. Gallner’s strange charisma—that intensity that always feels one breath away from collapse—holds the film together more than any narrative arc. What’s interesting is that Benson isn’t exactly a traditional villain; he feels more like a catalyst, an agent of chaos forcing Randy to face his own demons—not out of any sense of altruism, but out of pure contempt for weakness. And this is where the film takes a risky turn: it transforms their relationship into a dynamic of toxic dependency, almost a twisted parable about what it means to “grow up” or “face your fears.” Visually, “The Passenger” is an uncomfortable delight. Lyn Moncrief’s cinematography is filled with negative space that echoes the characters’ emotional emptiness, and the color palette—flirting with cold tones and disjointed neon bursts—adds to that sense of unease. Editor Eric Nagy stitches it all together with cuts that often feel abrupt, almost like the film is more interested in fragmenting the experience than telling a linear story. These visual details create a texture that compensates for the lack of a traditional “big climax.” The film never promises answers, and that uncomfortable honesty is one of its biggest strengths. However, “The Passenger” also suffers from its own drawn-out pacing. It clings so tightly to the dynamic between Randy and Benson that, at a certain point, it feels like it’s spinning its wheels. The script flirts with psychological depth, especially when Benson forces Randy to confront figures from his past, but these scenes never reach true catharsis. What could’ve been a moment of transformation ends up dissolving into just another exercise in discomfort—which fits the film’s vibe, but narratively leaves you feeling like something’s missing. Maybe not a “moral lesson,” but at least an extra layer to justify the time spent. Still, it’s impossible to ignore the power of the performances. Gallner, in particular, stands out—not because he’s over-the-top, but because he carries a presence that says more in silence than in dialogue. There’s a raw energy to his work that’s reminiscent of actors like Daniel Day-Lewis, but without the signature theatrical grandiosity. He’s intense in a restrained way, which makes his violence even more unsettling. Berchtold, on the other hand, delivers a vulnerability that, while exasperating, feels disturbingly authentic. “The Passenger” is a film that provokes more than it satisfies. It doesn’t seek the comfort of traditional storytelling or the safety of easily digestible characters. It’s an uncomfortable study of power, control, and the weight of trauma, disguised as a road thriller. Maybe that’s exactly what makes it so hard to forget, even when you’re not sure you actually liked what you saw.

It was a good psychological thriller. Sometimes you have to watch out for those quiet ones.