Drop (2025) review

Dir. Christopher Landon

By: Steve Pulaski

Rating: ★★★

Before we even saw Drop, my girlfriend had to explain to me what “AirDrop” was. This lifelong Android user was none-the-wiser. Now I ask, when would “dropping” photos or videos with other iPhones in your proximity be useful? Is it faster to send them that way than sharing the same media via text, Snapchat, email, or some other app? Why would you ever want your AirDrop settings to be “anyone in your vicinity?” That’s just inviting a troll into your phone. I’m anxious enough in my day-to-day life that I’m grateful my phone lacks such a feature.

It’s fair to assume Meghann Fahy’s Violet probably wishes she would’ve opted for a Samsung Galaxy or Motorola G at one point during Drop, the latest, creative chiller from Christopher Landon. By now, Landon has established himself as a force unto himself. Just two months ago, he concocted a clever romance-horror hybrid in Heart Eyes, and long before that, he gave formulas such as Groundhog Day and Freaky Friday the slasher treatment to delightful effect. Drop permits him to play with technology, marrying it to a story of a woman who is trapped in a densely populated public space, with her young child taken as collateral, at the mercy of someone breathing the same air as she is.

We meet Violet at the scariest moment of her life: she’s been violently beaten by her partner, but it’s he who ends up dead (did Violet kill him?). Years later, Violet, raising her young son, Toby (Jacob Robinson), is hesitant to date again, but a push from her sister (Violett Beane) results in her meeting a text-buddy named Henry (Brandon Sklenar, 1923) for dinner and drinks at a fancy Chicago restaurant that exists so high in the sky, it appears to rival the Sears Tower.

Cut to the restaurant, where Henry is running a few minutes late. Violet bumps into a few restaurant-goers, as well as the friendly hostess, bartender, piano player, and a fellow blind dater, but before long, starts getting mysterious “drops” on her phone via an app called “DigiDrop.” First, they’re instigating memes, then they’re hostile text messages. When the unseen assailant’s demands shift to the written form, Landon lets the large, block-style text (filtered through a static-y TV glow) appear on-screen. This is a refreshing diversion from the usual text-bubbles popping up over and over again. His visual language is sharp. The only comp I can immediately recall is the Tom Holland vehicle Cherry, albeit with no snark.

Anyway, being that Violet is getting inundated with drops, it means that it must be from someone no more than 50 feet away, which boils down to the immediate vicinity of the restaurant. One of the drops eventually reveals that a masked burglar is inside her home, ready to murder Toby and her sister if she doesn’t comply. Naturally, the dropper demands Violet not say anything to her date or anyone else, so much of the first half is spent trying to subtly get the attention of someone who can assist her.

While I’ve been one to gripe about the overuse of trauma as a thematic device in horror movies — hell, Blumhouse just released a movie of that ilk two weeks ago — Drop warrants use of what’s become a ubiquitous trope. For one, it justifies why Violet’s home would be rigged with security cameras she can access from her smartphone. And secondly, it loans itself to sharp subtext in the first half as Violet finds herself again trapped in a situation no one understands and no one actively helps her, all while she’s forced into silence.

Screenwriters Jillian Jacobs and Chris Roach make this Violet’s movie, and Meghann Fahy — who is riding high in popularity thanks to The White Lotus — is up to the task of carrying it. Paired with another TV mainstay in Brandon Sklenar, the two elicit not natural chemistry, but the kind of palpable awkwardness that is inherent to most first dates. This is compounded by pervasive distractions, whether it’s a flamboyant waiter (Jeffery Self), who must go above and beyond because he can’t help himself, texts from Violet’s sister, or the menacing drops.

The discomfort that arises from watching these poor souls try and generate something resembling an adorable first date meshes very well with the unease created by the situation. Compounding the latter is the score, from the great Bear McCreary, whose synths amplify the tension. Marc Spicer’s cinematography plays with the mood lighting of the restaurant to create an ominous ambiance. Landon strikes me as someone who knows how to dispatch talented individuals like himself, as well as unite them on a cohesive vision. Drop is indicative of someone in his creative prime, eminently skilled at crafting a juicy premise and subsequently mining it for both entertainment and relevance.

Starring: Meghann Fahy, Brandon Sklenar, Jacob Robinson, Violett Beane, Reed Diamond, Jeffrey Self, Gabrielle Ryan Spring, Ed Weeks, and Travis Nelson. Directed by: Christopher Landon.