Hunting Season (2025) | Film Review

There’s a particular kind of tension that only comes from watching a man who has seen too much trying to live a life that asks nothing of him. Hunting Season thrives on that tension. Mel Gibson is weather-beaten, steel-eyed, and moving with the deliberate caution of someone who’s survived both war and his own past. He also anchors this icy, backwoods thriller with a performance that feels carved from gravitas itself.

Gibson plays Bowdrie, a tracker who has spent years burying his skills deep in the woods, raising his daughter, Tag (Sofia Hublitz), in a life of intentional reclusion. Bowdrie isn’t the type of grizzled protagonist who grumbles exposition or swings fists at the slightest provocation. Instead, he is measured, methodical to the point of unnerving, studying people the way other men study maps. You get the sense he is always running calculations behind those tired eyes – exit points, threats, probabilities – even as he goes about his daily chores.

When Tag discovers a terrified young woman named January (Shelley Hennig) clinging to life near a remote riverbank, Bowdrie quickly assesses that she is being hunted. What begins as reluctant refuge quickly mutates into a deadly pursuit through unforgiving wilderness by a local drug cartel led by the wildly unpredictable and vicious Alejandro (Jordi Molla, playing an unhinged backwoods variation of his Bad Boys 2 villain). The invaders bring guns, and lots of them; Bowdrie brings patience, experience, and the kind of quiet violence that comes from a man who has promised himself he’d never use it again.

At the center of Hunting Season is Bowdrie’s strained but heartfelt bond with his daughter, Tag. She seems almost too naive for their harsh, isolated life, and the contrast gives the scenes between Gibson and Hublitz a quiet tension. But the film hints early that her innocence isn’t the whole story. There’s clearly a secret tucked behind her gentle demeanor, something Bowdrie is protecting or hiding, adding another layer of unease as the danger closes in.

It is a familiar setup, no doubt, but director Raja Collins leans hard into a slow-burn pulse, letting the tension simmer rather than explode prematurely. The first half is atmosphere heavy – cold mornings, crackling branches, lingering looks at shadowed tree lines. The film breathes in long, unsettling pauses, letting the audience feel the weight of isolation and the unraveling of the plot as these two distinct worlds approach collision. Every scene with Gibson radiates controlled pressure, like a man barricading a dam that’s starting to crack. And when it does, it erupts with that same control.

The final act is where Hunting Season cashes in its chips. Bowdrie’s methodical nature becomes a weapon as he ultimately puts his finely honed skills to use, and the entire film is building towards this final showdown. The violence is quick, decisive, and never glorified, more survival instinct than action spectacle.

By the time the smoke clears, you’re left with a finale that feels both inevitable and cathartic, built on the careful tension the film nurtured from its opening frames. Gibson’s performance is the backbone, a reminder of why grizzled veterans in thrillers still hold so much sway: because when the world pushes them, they don’t just push back. They calculate, they adapt, and they endure. Gibson has handled variations of Bowdrie his entire career, and it is his careful mix of quiet calm, determination, and occasional humor that keeps this film from blandly circling a drain of averageness.

Hunting Season may not reinvent the survival thriller, but it sharpens it, strips it down, and lets a slow-burn fuse ignite into one hell of a final fireball.