Liam Neeson’s horror-comedy Cold Storage features a secret weapon with a familiar set of skills

Image: Samuel Goldwyn

It would have been easy for the horror-comedy Cold Storage to be overshadowed during the hectic holiday release window. Despite securing a semi-wide theatrical run with somewhat sporadic screening times—even in major hubs like Manhattan—it faced stiff competition from half a dozen other major expansions and debuts. Compounding the challenge, the film’s marketing initially painted it as a somewhat unrefined production.

Specifically, the promotional material suggests Cold Storage is just another entry in the glut of irreverent, moderately entertaining genre mashups where directors rely on gore for cheap laughs, strive for forced absurdity, or deliver heavy-handed social metaphors. However, this generic branding masks a genuinely charming cinematic experience, largely thanks to the involvement of screenwriter David Koepp. A legendary figure in Hollywood for over thirty years, Koepp is renowned for penning blockbusters like Spider-Man, Mission: Impossible, and the original Jurassic Park. In this project, he adapts his own 2019 debut novel, successfully avoiding the indolence and eccentricity that often plague modern horror-comedies.

The premise initially suggests a slacker-led narrative: Travis (played by Stranger Things breakout Joe Keery) manages the night shift at a rural Kansas storage depot. He is joined by his newest colleague, Naomi (Barbarian lead Georgia Campbell), under the questionable leadership of their abrasive manager, Griffin (Gavin Spokes). When a persistent, localized alarm begins to wail, Travis lures Naomi into an investigation. Upon finding a hidden network of subterranean tunnels, a bored Naomi convinces Travis to delve deeper into the facility’s secrets.

What the staff doesn’t realize is that the site is a decommissioned government bunker housing a hyper-aggressive mutated fungus. As teased in the film’s prologue, this biological threat is capable of global devastation, functioning similarly to the viral outbreak in 28 Days Later. It transforms hosts into feral husks that eventually detonate into fungal spores, perpetually seeking fresh targets. Due to climate instability and systemic neglect, the containment systems have failed. The breach notifies Robert Quinn (Liam Neeson), a veteran operative who survived the initial encounter two decades prior. While Quinn rushes to the scene, Travis and Naomi must survive the night as a revolving door of unwitting victims provides the fungus with new avenues for escape.

Image: Samuel Goldwyn

Even within the loose boundaries of its genre, Cold Storage creates a stark divide between its relatable protagonists and the expendable supporting cast. Koepp’s script achieves this through a surprisingly patient approach. Instead of leaning on the tired Save the Cat formula—where leads must immediately perform a moral act to win over the audience—Koepp and director Jonny Campbell allow Travis and Naomi the space to develop a genuine rapport through naturalistic conversation.

The dialogue avoids being a vehicle for relentless quips. Naomi begins with a mild annoyance at Travis’s rambling nature, which Keery portrays with the same endearing awkwardness seen in his Stranger Things tenure. However, she is quickly won over by his tenacity and the obvious, if unspoken, crush he harbors for her. As they navigate the facility’s decaying sub-basements, their mutual interrogation evolves. Before long, they establish themselves as a quintessential Final Couple—a duo whose survival feels both improbable and deeply necessary for the film’s emotional core.

Their blatant disregard for the “don’t go in there” rule is easily forgiven because their chemistry is so infectious. Within thirty minutes, Koepp manages to anchor the entire film on the audience’s desire to see these two actors survive, simply because they are so likable together.

With this solid emotional foundation, Cold Storage can afford to be experimental elsewhere. While some digital effects appear a bit rough around the edges, they remain creatively gruesome as the infection migrates through various unfortunate hosts. The presence of Liam Neeson, acting as a bridge between the central romance and the “fungal fodder,” adds a layer of absurdist fun. This is complemented by his interactions with a covert military liaison named Abigail (Ellora Torchia), who provides him with illicit resources. Even the secondary characters, clearly introduced just to increase the body count, are given whimsical quirks—like a biker gang that inexplicably includes a suburban dentist looking for an adrenaline rush.

Image: Samuel Goldwyn

Amidst the chaos, Jonny Campbell delivers striking visual humor—ranging from an infected deer using an elevator to Fincher-esque tracking shots that snake through industrial pipes following the pathogen. Despite the exploding viscera, the film never stops treating its leads as human beings. Travis is endearingly earnest rather than a mere vessel for sarcasm, while Naomi is depicted as intelligent and resilient without being a caricatured “action hero.” Even Neeson finds a middle ground between his Taken-era intensity and a Naked Gun sensibility.