In the immortal words of Chris Griffin – EVIL, EVIL, MONKEY!!
Primate is exactly the kind of movie that reminds you why January has the reputation it does. That’s not to say it’s terrible—far from it—but this is a horror film that lands squarely in the “good idea, messy execution” category. Directed by Johans Roberts, Primate takes a simple, instantly compelling premise and stretches it across one very bloody, very tense night: a chimpanzee named Ben contracts rabies and turns what should have been a relaxing weekend getaway into a full-on survival nightmare.
On paper, the concept rules. It’s basically Cujo, but instead of a dog, you get a chimpanzee—an animal that is smarter, more unpredictable, significantly stronger, and completely unaware of its own strength. The movie understands that on a primal level (no pun intended). Chimps are cute until they absolutely are not, and Primate does a disturbingly good job of showcasing how terrifying they can be when things go wrong. Ben isn’t just an animal running wild; he’s a force of nature, and when the movie leans into that, it’s genuinely scary.
The film also gets some unexpected credibility thanks to Troy Kotsur, the Oscar winner for CODA, who plays Ben’s caretaker and the father of the main character. Kotsur, who is deaf, brings a level of authenticity and emotional weight that the movie desperately needs. There’s a real attempt here to build a family story: a daughter returning home to Hawaii, unresolved tension after the death of the mother, guilt over having moved away, and the strain that puts on her relationship with her father and younger sister. When the movie allows these moments to breathe, they actually work—and Kotsur is easily the most grounded presence in the film.
Unfortunately, that level of care doesn’t extend to most of the rest of the cast. Outside of Kotsur, the ensemble is made up of young, mostly unknown actors playing characters who feel like they were pulled straight from a horror trope checklist. You’ve got the best friend, the awkward love interest, the girl she immediately has beef with, and—of course—a group of random college kids who show up solely to make the worst possible decisions at the worst possible times. You don’t need a stacked cast for a movie about a rabid chimpanzee, but you do need characters who behave like real human beings under stress.
And this is where Primate becomes deeply frustrating.
The movie is tense. It’s suspenseful. It’s violent as hell. There were moments where it was genuinely hard to watch, not because it was bad, but because it was intense. Ben absolutely wrecks people—faces get ripped off, bodies get mangled, and the film does not pull its punches. Horror fans who live for gnarly kills are going to eat this up, and honestly, this feels like a movie Dead Meat is going to have an absolute blast covering. This thing is practically begging for a Kill Count.
But then the characters open their mouths—or make a decision—and the movie immediately undercuts itself.
Time and time again, Primate relies on characters doing unbelievably stupid things: splitting up, ignoring obvious danger, walking directly into death traps, and displaying absolutely zero critical thinking skills. This isn’t the fun, campy stupidity of ’80s slashers. This is the kind of writing that actively drags the movie down. In 2026, audiences don’t need characters to be geniuses, but they do need them to act like real people. Instead, the stupidity feels like a shortcut, and it cheapens the tension rather than enhancing it.
The dialogue doesn’t help. At its worst, it feels flat, generic, and borderline AI-generated. The movie also borrows heavily from other horror films, recreating familiar scenes and beats without adding much originality beyond “now it’s a chimpanzee.” If you’re going to start with an original idea, you owe it to your audience to follow through with original execution.
Visually, though, the movie has a lot going for it. The Hawaiian setting is gorgeous, and the house itself is incredible—wide views, open spaces, and a layout that actually enhances the suspense as the night unfolds. Keeping the story mostly confined to one location over a single night was the right call, and it helps Primate feel tighter and more focused than it otherwise might have.
By the end, there’s also an odd sense of sympathy for Ben. None of this is his fault. He’s bitten by a mongoose, his condition worsens over the course of the night, and what follows is pure tragedy filtered through horror. In a strange way, the movie’s most emotionally coherent character is the chimpanzee. Justice for Ben.
So where does that leave Primate? It’s not a great movie—but it’s not a bad one either. It’s a frustrating one. There’s a genuinely cool, scary horror movie buried in here, and you can feel it trying to claw its way out. Horror fans will likely enjoy it for the gore, the tension, and the sheer insanity of the premise. Casual viewers will probably catch it on streaming, talk about how wild it is, and move on.
Primate is a January release through and through: entertaining, messy, occasionally thrilling, and ultimately a reminder that a great idea can only carry a movie so far without smart writing to back it up. If you like horror, check it out—just don’t expect the humans to be the smartest species on screen.
Primate = 56/100
