Here’s something to know about me. I’m a M. Nigh Shyamalan apologist. So, I went into his latest concoction, Trap, with rose colored glasses. Unfortunately, this one’s got everything Shyamalan naysayers expect from our twist-happy director: confused plot lines, questionable acting choices, and enough absurdity to make you question your own life choices for deciding to watch it. But hey, that’s why we love the guy, right…right…………right?

First things first, let’s talk about M. Night Shyamalan, a dude whose career trajectory resembles a rollercoaster designed by a drunk toddler. The man gave us The Sixth Sense, and we were all like, “Wow, this guy’s a genius!” Then he threw The Happening and The Last Airbender at us, and suddenly we weren’t so sure. But like a bad ex you can’t quite shake off, Shyamalan keeps coming back, and damn it if I’m not still rooting for him.

Trap is another chapter in his never-ending quest to either wow us with his narrative wizardry or make us question why we pay for streaming services. And in true Shyamalan fashion, this film falls squarely in the middle.

Okay, the plot of Trap is not so subtle. We’re at a huge pop concert, right? The place is packed with screaming teens, flashing lights, and enough bad music to make you consider shoving ice picks in your ears. Enter our hero(?), Cooper, played by Josh Hartnett (The Faculty, 30 Days of Night, Penny Dreadful), who’s clearly thrilled to be there with his daughter, Riley. But wait! There’s more! The cops have surrounded the place because they think a serial killer called “The Butcher” is in the crowd. And surprise, surprise—Cooper is the Butcher! Didn’t see that coming, did ya? Unless you watched the trailer. Or read any synopsis. Or just have a basic understanding of how Shyamalan works.

Josh Hartnett, bless his soul, is trying his damnedest to be both the loving dad and a terrifying serial killer, which is about as believable as a politician promising not to lie. But, to his credit, Hartnett’s performance is one of the better parts of the movie. He’s got this creepy smile down that says, “I love my daughter, but also, I might murder everyone here,” which is the kind of energy I aspire to have on a Monday morning.

Then we’ve got Shyamalan’s real-life daughter, Saleka, playing pop star Lady Raven. You can tell she’s trying her best, but it’s like watching a fish trying to climb a tree. She’s a talented musician—don’t get me wrong—but acting? Let’s just say, much like her father, it’s not her forte. Her performance is wooden, and the dialogue she’s given doesn’t do her any favors. At one point, someone in my theater actually laughed out loud during a dramatic scene. It’s that kind of movie.

Shyamalan’s direction is as inconsistent as his filmography. Some shots are genuinely gorgeous, pulling off that Hitchcockian vibe he’s always aiming for but rarely hits. There are a few moments where the tension builds nicely, and you think, “Okay, maybe this is going somewhere.” But then the plot takes a hard left turn into Crazytown, and you’re left wondering if Shyamalan is just messing with us at this point.

The cinematography isn’t terrible, though. Some scenes, particularly those involving Hartnett sneaking around the concert venue, are shot with a level of competence that almost makes you forget how silly the whole premise is. Almost. But then there are other scenes where you’re like, “Did they film this on an iPhone?” It can be surprisingly mixed.

Let’s talk about the script. If the acting is shaky, the writing is like a house of cards built in a wind tunnel. The dialogue is so on the nose that it’s practically a punch to the face. Characters constantly explain their motivations as if they’re auditioning for a spot on a reality TV show. It’s like Shyamalan doesn’t trust his audience to figure out anything on their own, which, to be fair, might be true considering some of his more “creative” narrative choices.

At one point, Cooper, while pretending not to be a homicidal maniac, actually says something like, “We can’t let them find out who I really am!” which is less subtle than a sledgehammer to the nuts. This isn’t just lazy writing; it’s a full-blown creative coma.

If you’re looking for deep, meaningful themes, you’re better off looking elsewhere. Trap flirts with ideas about duality and the masks we wear, but it does so in the same way a drunk guy at a bar flirts with someone—awkwardly and with a high probability of falling flat on its face. There’s potential here for a genuinely interesting exploration of identity and morality, but Shyamalan seems more interested in cramming in as many plot twists as he can before the credits roll.

So, what’s good about Trap? Well, it’s entertaining in a “Holy crap, what am I watching?” kind of way. Hartnett’s performance is weirdly compelling, even if it feels like he’s in a different movie than everyone else. There are a few genuinely suspenseful moments, and some of the cinematography is pretty slick.

But the bad? Oh boy, where to start. The plot is absurd, the dialogue is frequently cringe-worthy, and the acting—outside of Hartnett—is rough. There’s also the issue of pacing. The movie drags in parts where it should sprint and sprints where it should take a breather. It’s like Shyamalan threw all the ingredients of a thriller into a blender and forgot to put the lid on.

And let’s not forget the ending. Without giving too much away, it’s exactly what you’d expect from Shyamalan, but without any of the satisfaction. It’s like he wanted to leave us with our jaws on the floor, but instead, we’re just kind of staring at the screen, confused and mildly annoyed.

Look, Trap isn’t a good movie by any stretch of the imagination. But it’s also not the worst thing Shyamalan has ever done (looking at you, The Last Airbender). If you’re in the mood for something that’s equal parts ridiculous and entertaining, give it a watch. It’s a mess of weird creative choices, but hey, at least it’s never boring. Just don’t go in expecting high art. Go in expecting to laugh at things that aren’t supposed to be funny and you might just have a good time. Maybe.