TL;DR: Justin Long fights off a pack of killer coyotes in the Hollywood Hills. It’s fast, gory, and hilarious. Don’t analyze it—just enjoy the teeth and carnage.

Some movies exist to change the world, others exist to make you spill your soda in shock while you’re also giggling like a maniac. Coyotes proudly sits in the latter camp. It doesn’t bother with “elevated” horror discourse or philosophical musings about the fragile human condition. Nope. It straps Justin Long into a plaid shirt, hands him a crowbar, and tosses him into the Hollywood Hills where nature has decided to stop being subtle and just straight up eat the neighbors. And honestly? That’s exactly the kind of horror-comedy chaos I’ve been craving.

The Stewart family is our unlucky focus. Scott (Justin Long) is the kind of dad whose phone has permanently grafted itself to his palm, while his wife Liv (Kate Bosworth) and daughter Chloe (Mila Harris) just want the guy to remember family dinners are a thing. The universe delivers that wish in the nastiest way possible: a windstorm knocks out power, a tree flattens their SUV, and a pack of hungry coyotes roll in like it’s buffet night. Add a wildfire creeping closer, and suddenly “quality family time” involves figuring out how not to become dog food.

Director Colin Minihan builds Coyotes out of real-life dread—the kind of LA menace anyone who’s seen a coyote casually strut down Sunset Boulevard at midnight knows too well. Instead of symbolism or allegory, the movie keeps its promise simple: family vs. teeth, claws, and fire. It feels like a VHS-era creature feature transported into 2025: fast, bloody, and gloriously straightforward.

The film’s real weapon is its humor. Not Marvel banter or meme-ready punchlines, but absurd, situational comedy that sneaks into the edges of the carnage. Justin Long is a master of looking like he’s two seconds away from a breakdown while still mumbling sarcastic asides. When he starts fortifying the house like he’s auditioning for HGTV: Post-Apocalypse Edition, I nearly choked on my popcorn. Bosworth gets her moment of madness too—her wrestling a coyote with just a blanket and raw mom strength is destined to be a cult clip.

And those coyotes? They’re not cute Disney critters. They’re snarling, feral, relentless, and shot with a nasty realism that makes them feel like landsharks. Their first big kill—a smug influencer—sets the tone immediately. When they finally breach the Stewart home, the movie shifts into nail-biting Jurassic Park territory, with Chloe cowering under a table as claws scrape above her. It’s the kind of primal scene that earns your white-knuckle grip on the armrest.

Coyotes also wins points for respecting our time. A lean ninety minutes, no fluff, no side quests, no endless monologues about trauma. Just blood, sweat, fire, and teeth. Every time you think it’ll slow down, another attack comes. There’s even a sentimental moment near the climax, but Minihan wisely yanks us right back into chaos before it can overstay its welcome.

This isn’t awards bait, and thank god for that. It’s scrappy, self-aware, and knows exactly what lane it’s in. Long cements his place as horror’s favorite chew toy, Bosworth proves she deserves way more genre roles, and Harris manages to be a kid-in-peril you actually root for. Coyotes is messy, gory, absurd, and all the better for it.

Final Verdict:

Coyotes doesn’t pretend to be deep—it’s a fast, feral, funny survival horror with bite. Justin Long and Kate Bosworth sell the chaos with straight faces, the coyotes are nastier than expected, and the film finds its sweet spot between ridiculous and ruthless. It’s not high art—it’s bloody, low-down fun, and that’s more than enough.