Sometimes a movie sneaks up on you in the best way, and "Primate" did exactly that when I previewed it last night.

I went in expecting chaos (the title alone promises no less), and instead I got a delightful mash-up of nostalgia, tension, and pure slasher joy.

It felt a little like being 16 again, clutching a pillow while watching Scream on a school night and pretending I wasn’t scared. Spoiler: I was not necessarily scared, but those moments that made me and the crowd jump were exceptional and caught the audience’s attention at the best moments.

What makes "Primate" so satisfying is its unapologetically 90s slasher spirit.

It doesn’t brood, or philosophize, or ask you to decode metaphors about society. It simply shows up, revs the engine, and says, “Let’s have some fun, and also maybe run for our lives.” And honestly, those are the type of cinema vibes that we need now.

The premise? Wild. The kills? Inventive. The laughs? Surprisingly plentiful.

There’s a sweet spot in horror where you’re terrified one moment and snickering the next, and Primate lives there full-time. It never tries to be above its genre, which is refreshing in a world where horror sometimes feels like it needs a dissertation attached.

But what really got me was the feeling.

Somewhere between the jump scares and the absurdity, I found myself weirdly emotional, because I miss when horror movies didn’t apologize for being fun.

When slasher nights were about popcorn, friends, questionable decisions, and rooting for the final girl because she deserved better. "Primate" reminded me of that era and made me grateful horror hasn’t lost its sense of humor.

Walking out, I didn’t just feel entertained, I felt lighter.

And if a rabid monkey slasher movie can do that to me and others, then truly, art is alive and well.

For more information on tickets and showtimes, visit primatemovie.com.