I laughed way too hard at Zach Cregger’s work as part of “The Whitest Kids U’ Know” comedy troupe back in the day (search for “The Grapist” on YouTube, for one hilariously inappropriate example).

But because I’ve been delinquent in getting around to watching 2022’s “Barbarian,” I never knew Cregger had a horror film like “Weapons” in him, and now that I’ve seen “Weapons,” I have got to see “Barbarian.”

Cregger not only wrote and directed, but also produced and co-scored “Weapons.”

He demonstrates the maturity of a far more experienced filmmaker, by being practically invisible to what unfolds onscreen, in the best possible way.

Legendary comic book artist Neal Adams famously opined that “style is everything you’re doing wrong.”

Cregger demonstrates an understanding of this adage by employing cinematographer Larkin Seiple to tell his tale through extended tracking shots that emulate individual characters’ points of view, eschewing the omniscience of widescreen vistas for more fixed and tightly focused-in perspectives.

As a result, the signs of danger in “Weapons” first appear either as incongruous but relatively minor details in the background, or on the peripheral edges of the camera’s field of vision.

The outward normality of the film’s contemporary suburban setting underscores the dreamlike strangeness of its tragically mysterious premise, as the audience is left to wonder, right alongside the characters, why all but one of the students in a single third-grade classroom suddenly ran out of their homes, into the night, at the exact same time, to vanish without a trace.

Cregger has assembled a capable ensemble cast to portray an entirely ordinary collection of characters, a number of whom are already struggling with existential dissatisfaction, before their grief over this nightmarish scenario inspires them to make even more self-harming decisions.

Julia Garner’s earnest, lonely teacher arguably cares too much about her kids, while Alden Ehrenreich’s mustachioed beat cop struggles to abide by the limits of his humdrum milquetoast life.

Benedict Wong turns in a deftly credible master-class performance as the sort of concerned but put-upon school administrator whom I’m pretty sure we’ve all met at least once, while Josh Brolin is effortlessly naturalistic as a grieving father who allows his preoccupied resentment to get the better of him.

For a good portion of “Weapons,” I suspected we might never get any answers to our questions, and that the rest of the film would instead explore the billiard-ball break of characters ricocheting off each other in their mis-aimed attempts to cope with the ominous trauma they share in common.

But while “Weapons” empathizes with these characters’ reasons for making their mistakes — it even affords a measure of sympathy for Austin Abrams’ opportunistic desperation as a homeless thief and drug addict — it also allows some of those same characters to slowly grasp a rough silhouette outline of what’s going on.

“Weapons” respects the intelligence of its audience and its characters by teasing us with just enough revelations for us to feel satisfied at receiving at least some measure of resolution, without spoon-feeding us anything as mundane as didactically origin story-style exposition.

The unexpected heart of this film’s conflict comes from the brief but powerful exchanges between the characters played by child actor Cary Christopher, who comes across as stoic yet haunted all at once, and rightly acclaimed acting veteran Amy Madigan, literally unrecognizable in a role that sees her radiate power and execute drastic tone-shifts on a dime.

I’ve loved Madigan as an actress for a long time, because like Frances McDormand, she personifies authentic, unglamorized talent in ways that don’t get celebrated nearly enough.

Madigan’s unvarnished performance makes possible Cregger’s clever, unnerving depiction of the corrupting influence of evil, as an infectious, invasive parasite which preys upon the basic decency of its unassuming victims.

Given the particularly nasty ways in which the evil in “Weapons” takes advantage of the inherent imbalance that lies in the power dynamic between children and adults, through children’s fears and their need to please adults, the conclusion of its central conflict is viscerally satisfying.

Although most of “Weapons” runs on a John Carpenter-style slow-burn ramp-up of tension, Cregger knows when to punctuate the proceedings with warranted dollops of gore.

I wish more scary movies with lingering mysteries met the standards that Cregger sets with “Weapons,” and I’ll be checking out “Barbarian” right away.