‘Drop’ Review: Tech-Age Horror Thriller and a Rom-Com From Hell

If you've ever felt that pit-of-the-stomach anxiety before a first date – sweaty palms, forced small talk, scanning for red flags – imagine that cranked to eleven with your child’s life on the line. That’s the gut-punch premise of Drop, the latest genre bender from director Christopher Landon. It’s a film that begins with flirty glances across a table and ends with a bone-chilling choice. Produced by the genre masterminds at Blumhouse, Drop is a dark date-night rollercoaster that lands somewhere between a tech-age horror thriller and a rom-com from hell, with surprisingly emotional results.

Meghann Fahy (fresh off her breakout turn in The White Lotus) plays Violet, a widowed single mom dipping a hesitant toe back into the dating pool. Her nervous excitement is palpable as she steps into an upscale restaurant for a date with Henry (Brandon Sklenar), a dreamy and sweet photographer. For a brief moment, you’re convinced this might be the most wholesome setup of the year. They click. The conversation flows. The wine sparkles. Then, her phone buzzes.

An unexpected AirDropped meme interrupts the flow. Then another. And another. The images escalate in intensity, specificity, and menace. What, at first, seems like just a prank turns into psychological torture. Violet quickly realizes these are not messages meant to taunt – they’re threats. A shadowy, faceless figure has cloned her phone. Now, her life has basically been hijacked. Looking at her home security footage, she sees that her home has become a hostage situation. She’s instructed that one wrong move, one whisper to Henry, and her son will die. But no matter how well she follows instructions, Violet feels trapped because the final directive is where the film tightens its noose: Toby can really only be safe if Violet kills Henry.

One of the film’s greatest strengths is its near-claustrophobic setting. Set almost entirely inside a restaurant, Drop cleverly confines its action, ratcheting up tension with each movement, each glance, each new text instruction. This single-location thriller thrives on focus, both in narrative and cinematography. The camera lingers on Violet’s expressions, mining Fahy’s performance for every ounce of dread, conflict, and inner strength. It’s intimate, panicked, and brilliantly executed.

Landon really flexes his director muscles here. As in Happy Death Day and Freaky, Landon is known for finding wicked joy in a bleak setup. His direction balances razor-sharp suspense with surprising levity. His signature playful menace is on full display, and this time, it’s filtered through a uniquely modern lens. Drop isn’t just a thriller – it’s a tech-age nightmare. It’s what happens when our hyperconnected world turns on us, when the devices that link us to loved ones also open doors to voyeurs, manipulators, and monsters.

The film makes brilliant use of its titular device: the AirDrop function (it has a different name in the film). It begins as an innocuous feature, something we’ve all used to share photos, but quickly becomes the instrument of dread. As Violet receives increasingly disturbing images and commands, the film dives deep into how technology can erode our sense of safety. The unseen tormentor hears everything, sees everything, and leaves no space for escape.

As Violet tries to decode who is behind the torment, suspicion moves from table to table. Is it the too-helpful waiter? The mysterious couple near the bar? The bartender? The guy who keeps looking at his phone? Landon keeps us guessing right alongside Violet, and that paranoia becomes another character in the film. Drop never gives us a clear sense of who is pulling the strings until it absolutely has to. But when it does, the motivation is murky. It’s a bit disappointing in that sense, but it’s a part of a narrative that constantly feels one step ahead of both Violet and the viewer. It’s like playing chess with someone who already knows your next three moves.

What sets Drop apart from your average thriller is its emotionally charged undercurrent. Violet is not just a random woman thrown into a nightmare. She is a survivor of domestic violence, which is why getting back out in the dating game is so scary for her. She’s a therapist who helps others while quietly bearing her own trauma. Violet’s pain is not just backstory, it’s baked into every decision she makes and drives the narrative. This is where the film shines the most. Beneath the stressful hostage situation is a rich, nuanced portrait of a woman struggling to move forward. Her date with Henry is more than just a dinner – it’s a symbolic step toward living again. So when the threat arrives, the stakes are not just physical but emotional. This isn’t just a battle for survival; it’s a battle for hope.

Sklenar’s Henry is incredibly kind and patient, the kind of guy that’s easy to like and the audience to want to stick around for Violet. His conversations with her crackle with authenticity, and their chemistry is magnetic. Their dialogue is breezy, witty, and often fun – until it’s not. The tone shifts when the first real threat lands, and the way Violet hides her rising panic while trying to keep the date going adds a layer of suspense. You want so badly for this to work out and for Violet to win, not just the fight for her son but her right to happiness again.

Drop may at first seem silly, but it proves to be a clever romantic thriller, making the desire to turn on a rom-com on a date night not the first option. It lures you in with the promise of a sweet love story and then traps you in a technological horror show. But it actually is romantic as hell. Underneath the chaos and nail-biting, there’s a love story fighting to breathe. It’s about two people trying to connect in a world that’s often battered them. It’s about trust and fear and what we’re willing to sacrifice for love.

The film even toys with narrative conventions. Early on, it seems to lean into the "let me explain how I got here" trope in its introduction, making you think you’re watching moments to come. This is a great choice because it not only tricks you into thinking you know who the perpetrator is but also provides the tragic backstory that ties the film together from the start. Not every narrative choice like this lands perfectly. The villain's motives, once revealed, are murky at best and underwritten at worst. The reason behind targeting Henry is tenuous, and the film doesn’t spend much time fleshing it out. It doesn’t derail the story, but it does make it feel a bit rushed. Still, the ride is so gripping, the tension so well-built, that it’s all forgivable for those edge-of-your-seat moments. And while the humour occasionally tips into corny, it feels intentional – momentary relief in an otherwise white-knuckle experience.

The final act of Drop is nothing short of explosive. The slow build combusts into a frenzy of revelations and action. The framing in these last minutes ties Violet’s traumatic past to her present in a way that feels cathartic. And the film manages to tie everything together in a sweet, emotionally resonant way that only elevates its romance genre cues.

At its heart, Drop is more than a thriller. It’s a survival story, a love story, and a cautionary tale about the monsters lurking behind our screens. It’s about healing through connection, even when connection itself becomes a threat. It’s about choosing to live again – even if that means fighting like hell to do so. So, maybe let’s keep our AirDrops to contacts only.