You know the feeling. It is past midnight, the petrol pump is thirty kilometres behind you, and the road ahead is just two cones of light eating the dark. Out of the corner of your eye, the passenger seat sits empty, and for no reason you can name, it does not feel empty at all. You do not look. You keep your hands at ten and two, and you drive a little faster. André Øvredal's Passenger is built from exactly that feeling. It takes the loneliest shape on a night highway, a seat with nobody in it, and asks a cruel little question. What if something is sitting there?

The setup is simple. Tyler and Maddie, played by Jacob Scipio and Lou Llobell, leave New York behind to live in a souped-up van, chasing the freedom of the open road. Six weeks in, the romance has frayed: sleeping in parking lots and showering in gym locker rooms is not the dream for Maddie that it is for Tyler. Then, on a remote country road, they witness a gruesome accident they cannot stop. Soon, critics report, it becomes clear they have picked up something malevolent that latches on to motorists and does not let go until they are dead. I will say nothing more. The rest is the drive.

What gives the film its chill is the folklore stitched around the monster. Among travelling communities, the story goes, there is a superstition about a ghostly figure called the Passenger, which you must never pick up, on purpose or by accident, and which you must never stop driving to avoid. The film echoes the old hobo code: the chalked symbols wanderers once left to warn each other of danger, including a claw mark meaning "not safe here." Then comes a quiet clash of faiths: Maddie trusts a GPS tracker, and Tyler wears a medallion of Saint Christopher, patron saint of travellers. Tracker or saint. In the dark, which would you trust?

This is where critics, even the unimpressed ones, tend to agree. Øvredal and cinematographer Federico Verardi make roads at night feel menacing, with pale headlights and blood-red taillights painting a quiet paranoia, and the sound design leans on the rumble of the road and the crack of breaking glass. Reviewers single out a few set pieces: a late-night walk across a vast, nearly empty parking lot toward the van, and a scene in the woods involving an outdoor film projector that one critic called the high point. The scares are measured. The jolts work because the film does not throw too many of them. The dread does most of the work.

Beneath the supernatural machinery sits a small, human ache: two people who love each other, tired, cramped, and slowly pulling in different directions. Reviewers praise the spirited performances of Llobell and Scipio, and it is their strain that gives the horror its heart. A haunting hits harder when it lands on a couple who were already struggling to hold on to each other. Some critics note a theme that gently favours settling down over life on the road, and a few found the film wastes a chance to satirize travel-influencer culture. But the emotional centre, a relationship tested in the dark, is the part many viewers will remember.

Øvredal is the Norwegian director who broke out with Trollhunter in 2010 and built a respected genre record with The Autopsy of Jane Doe, Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark and The Last Voyage of the Demeter. Where do you place Passenger? That depends on whom you ask. One respected critic called it fairly solid genre craftwork far better than its quiet release suggested, a trashy B-horror that never feels cheap. Others found it a step down, leaning too much on images borrowed from better horror films. It is a lean 94 minutes, shot by Federico Verardi, with a score by Christopher Young, from a script by T.W. Burgess and Zachary Donohue.

Be ready for a split verdict. Passenger holds 47 percent on Rotten Tomatoes from 91 critics, with an average of 5.3 out of 10, and a Metascore of 52 from 14 critics. Audiences gave it a CinemaScore of B minus. The Rotten Tomatoes consensus calls it a stylish ride weighed down by clichés. RogerEbert.com gave it three and a half stars, and ComingSoon scored it 7 out of 10. Others, including The Hollywood Reporter, Exclaim! and Plugged In, were far harsher, calling it generic, repetitive, or lacking depth. The film cost about 15 million dollars and earned roughly 31.6 million worldwide. Horror taste is personal, and this one proves it.

If you grew up on The Hitcher, Jeepers Creepers, Joy Ride, and Duel, and you can forgive a familiar story for the sake of atmosphere, Passenger is a decent midnight drive. Think of it as a campfire tale told by someone who knows the pauses. If you want deep themes, tight logic, or a fresh monster, you may get restless. It is rated R, so expect strong language, some gory moments, and religious imagery, including burning churches. The runtime is just 94 minutes, which makes it an easy watch. Keep the lights low, keep the phone away, and, if you can, do not watch it before a night drive.

So, would you pick him up? My verdict, based on the critical record and the film's own design: Passenger is not a masterpiece, and it never pretends to be. It is a lean, atmospheric, imperfect road horror whose best moments are made of silence, headlights, and one terrible idea about an empty seat. Take it for the dread, and forgive it the clichés. And the next time you are driving alone on a highway out of the city with the world gone quiet, spare a glance for the seat beside you. It will be empty. Almost certainly.