KJ and Dan are in a rough patch, and their relationship is hanging just over the edge. Another couple (both comically named Jenn) offer to let them use their family’s cabin deep in the hills of Virginia for an impromptu vacation. Dan and KJ are just beginning to enjoy the solitude of the cabin when they discover a mouse, struggling as it dies in a glue trap. After dealing with the mouse, they try to work on their connection but fall asleep frustrated. The next day, when KJ goes for a walk, Eliza, a sister of one of the Jenns, appears at the cabin. Her awkward obliviousness to the couple’s romantic getaway creates tension. The awkwardness gradually gives way to a story of healing—before the tale takes a final, horrific turn.
Glue Trap is a flick and a half. Billed as a slow burn, they should call it a “smolder”: this film burns so slowly you forget there’s a fire—and that’s exactly what makes its final twist so shocking. I was taken aback by the sheer quality of the filmmaking from the movie’s first moments. While it’s a drama and a fantastically unique take on the cabin-in-the-woods horror genre, Glue Trap is first and foremost a film for film lovers. The cinematography, modern editing, and exquisite use of color and natural light make this movie a must-see for anyone who enjoys film as an art form.
This subtle dark comedy ends with a climax so tense and an ending so unexpected and artistic, it will shock and even terrify—without the gallons of fake blood or hours of deep-woods stalking typical to the genre. For its fantastic visuals and excellent plot, Glue Trap will appeal most to drama lovers and film fanatics, while its horror elements will thrill the more high-minded horror viewer better than any slasher made in the past three decades. Any public library collection will see this title fly off the shelf. Highly Recommended. Editor’s Choice.
What kind of film collection would this title be suitable for?
Glue Trap is an excellent fit for collections focused on contemporary independent cinema or psychological horror films. It belongs alongside titles that blur the line between art-house drama and horror, with a strong emphasis on visual storytelling and emotional nuance. Public libraries with strong cult, indie, or genre film collections will find this title especially appealing to patrons looking for something that breaks away from formulaic horror.
What kind of film series would this narrative fit in?
This film would thrive in a curated film series on paired with titles like The Lodge, The One I Love, or The Endless—films that deconstruct isolation, relationship dynamics, and horror tropes. It also fits thematically in a series about modern domestic disquiet, alongside titles like Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, Martha Marcy May Marlene, or Sun Don’t Shine. A spotlight on slow-burn horror or emerging American auteurs would also be a natural home for Glue Trap.