Adulthood 2025 proves growing up is hard—covering up bodies with your siblings is somehow harder.
Megan and Noah return home after their mum is suddenly hospitalised, and let’s just say the reunion isn’t exactly filled with tearful hugs or heartfelt gratitude. Megan is stern and practical, Noah is sarcastic and broke—very broke—and together they stumble upon the last thing you want to find in your childhood home: a missing neighbour… who’s very much not alive. The more they uncover, the more chaotic things get, spiralling into a darkly comedic mess of secrets, schemes, and increasingly questionable family bonding.
Josh Gad and Kaya Scodelario shine as the world’s most chaotic siblings. Their chemistry works—not because they’re alike, but because they fully commit to being polar opposites. Gad’s Noah is a sarcasm factory on the brink of financial ruin, while Kaya’s Megan gives us the responsible eldest child energy mixed with detective intensity. Together? Comedy gold.
Anthony Carrigan steals scenes as Bodie, the psycho cousin who arrives like an uninvited storm. His brand of unhinged enthusiasm turns every moment he’s in into a 10/10.
The entire cast manages to make the comedy feel natural—never forced. It’s grounded in real reactions, real family frustrations, and real-life ridiculousness. That authenticity is what makes the laughs hit harder.
The film leans into a stylised dark-comedy aesthetic—clean cuts, close shots for awkward tension, and wide frames when the chaos hits. The soundtrack keeps things lighthearted at first but shifts into a cheeky, sinister tone the darker the siblings’ actions become.
The tonal blend is smooth—never too grim, never too goofy. Everything works to highlight the absurdity of the situation without losing the grounded family dynamics.
Adulthood (2025) is built on a simple setup that escalates with hilarious precision. Megan wants answers. Noah wants cash. Their mum’s carer wants £10,000. And all of this drama over ten grand? Peak comedy.
When the blackmail drops, the film stops being a quirky family mystery and goes full-throttle into the “Oh—they’re unwell” zone. Noah snapping and “cooking everyone” is where the movie proudly embraces its dark side, and Megan joining in turns them into a wildly dysfunctional Bonnie-and-Clyde duo. It shouldn’t be funny… but it is. It really, really is.
The writing embraces the absurdity while keeping everything rooted in a very real thing: trauma. The ending isn’t full-circle, but it’s poetic. It highlights that trauma doesn’t always look like sadness and silence. Sometimes it unlocks a whole new level of calm madness—calculated, deadly, and disturbingly serene.
The film sticks the landing by blending comedy, darkness, and emotional truth better than it has any right to.
Moral of the story:
Your local serial killer might just be working through a little trauma. Nothing major.
