COYOTES: A Howling Good Time

Colin Minihan’s Coyotes is the kind of survival horror that thrives on simplicity. The setup is straightforward, almost deceptively so: a family hunkers down in their Hollywood Hills home as wildfires rage around them, cutting off escape. But the fire isn’t the only threat. As smoke fills the sky and the lights go out, a pack of wild coyotes begins to circle, turning what should be a refuge into a cage.

From there, the film unspools like a nightmare.  And of course, we get Justin Long (who is absolutely always a joy to see on screen) along with his real life partner: the incredible Kate Bosworth. They both appear to be having a blast and I love that for them (and us!).

What makes Coyotes work so well is how it uses its limited scope to its advantage. Rather than stretching the story into elaborate subplots, Minihan keeps the focus tight, confining most of the action to the house and the immediate surrounding hillside. This gives the film an almost suffocating quality, amplifying every sound, shadow, and flicker of movement outside the window. The danger is both immediate and inescapable, and the audience feels that dread build.

Justin Long and Kate Bosworth anchor the film. Bosworth balances him with quiet strength, her resolve deepening as the situation grows more hopeless. Together, they carry much of the emotional weight, making the family’s fight for survival about more than just surviving predators. It is about protecting what matters most when everything else collapses.

But let’s not forget the humor too. That’s a driving force throughout as the film flirts with its horror comedy drive, often silly and even goofy at times. There were plenty of laughs and plenty that skirt that line of terror and levity.

The cinematography transforms the house into a battleground, where safety is an illusion and every window feels like an invitation for danger. Some of the most effective images are the simplest: the gleam of animal eyes in the dark, the sound of scratching at the door, or the eerie quiet before the next attack. The sound design is equally sharp, layering howls, growls, and silence to keep the tension high.

Of course, the film has its flaws. The coyotes themselves, while terrifying in concept, don’t always feel convincing on screen. In certain moments the digital effects show their seams, pulling the viewer out of the otherwise immersive experience. The script also stumbles occasionally when it tries to break the tension with humor; in a film built so strongly on dread, even a small misplaced joke can weaken the atmosphere. Secondary characters aren’t given as much depth as the leads, and at times their presence feels more functional than emotional.

Still, these issues don’t undo what Coyotes achieves. The film excels at what it sets out to do: trap its audience in a confined space, build unbearable tension, and then let the chaos explode. Minihan doesn’t overcomplicate the narrative; he trusts the core premise, and it pays off. 

Ultimately, Coyotes is a flawed but gripping piece of horror-comedy filmmaking. It’s a story about survival, but also about the fragility of the boundaries we build between civilization and the wild. And it’s damn fun. The latter being more important than you realize: we need more fun at the movies.