Every once in a while, a movie comes along that makes you question your life choices. Not in the profound, soul-searching way—more in the “why did I spend two hours on this instead of trimming my toenails?” way. Three (stylized as Thr3e, because apparently spelling correctly is of the devil) is one such movie. Directed by Robby Henson and adapted from Ted Dekker’s novel, this so-called “Christian horror thriller” manages to take the worst parts of Se7en, slapdash theology, and a dollar-store riddle book, then mash them together into a cinematic sermon nobody asked for.
The Plot: Jesus, Take the Steering Wheel—But Make It Explode
The story revolves around Kevin Parson (Marc Blucas), a seminary student who receives phone calls from the Riddle Killer, or “R.K.” for short. And let me just say: when your villain’s initials sound like a barbecue joint, you’ve already lost the intimidation game. This diabolical madman taunts Kevin with riddles, sin confessions, and lots of bombs. Not smart bombs. Not even scary bombs. Just cheap pyrotechnics straight from a clearance bin in Warsaw, where the movie was filmed.
Kevin’s first call: confess your sin or your car explodes. Spoiler—he doesn’t confess, and the car explodes. Somewhere, Michael Bay rolled over in his money pile and muttered, “Amateurs.”
The Riddles: Stolen from a Kindergarten Workbook
R.K.’s entire gimmick is riddles. Not clever riddles. Not Gollum-vs.-Bilbo brain twisters. We’re talking “What falls but never breaks? What breaks but never falls?” It’s the kind of thing you’d find on a Snapple cap or printed under a Laffy Taffy wrapper. Our villain isn’t Hannibal Lecter; he’s the Dollar General Sphinx.
Every time a riddle drops, the characters act like they’re decoding the Dead Sea Scrolls. Meanwhile, the audience is Googling “children’s riddles” and solving them faster than Kevin can furrow his eyebrows.
The Cast: Bible Camp Meets Community Theater
Marc Blucas (yes, the guy who once dated Buffy on Buffy the Vampire Slayer) plays Kevin like a man perpetually on the verge of sneezing. He whispers, he shouts, he stares blankly, but never convinces you he’s got a brain cell capable of solving a riddle, let alone outsmarting a serial killer.
Justine Waddell plays Jennifer, the profiler who exists mostly to look worried and remind the audience, “Yes, this is totally a thriller.” Then there’s poor Bill Moseley, horror royalty reduced to lurking in the shadows as the Riddle Killer, chewing scenery like he’s trying to eat his way out of the contract. Imagine Otis from House of 1000 Corpses forced to play a Sunday school teacher—it’s that kind of wasted potential.
And let’s not forget Aunt Balinda, who may as well have “childhood trauma delivery system” stamped on her forehead. Subtlety, thy name is not Thr3e.
The Twists: M. Night Shyamalan Would Like His Royalty Check
The movie desperately wants to be Fight Club with Bible verses. The “big twist”? The Riddle Killer isn’t real—he’s Kevin’s split personality, born out of childhood abuse. Also, Samantha, Kevin’s lifelong friend, isn’t real either. She’s another figment of his imagination. So, for two hours, we’ve been watching Kevin argue with sock puppets of his own psyche.
The film plays this reveal like it’s shocking, but anyone who’s seen a movie made after 1990 could spot it from the first reel. At this point, the only real riddle is: why did I keep watching?
The Christian Thriller Angle: Sin, Explosions, Repeat
This is marketed as a “Christian thriller,” which is already a contradiction in terms. Thrillers thrive on moral ambiguity, while this film hammers you with the theological subtlety of a Chick tract. Every scene circles back to sin, confession, repentance, or Romans 6:23 (“the wages of sin is death”), which is scrawled across props like a Bible study gone horribly off the rails.
But the film doesn’t even commit to its moralizing. It wants to be both edgy (look, bombs! serial killers! abuse!) and inspirational (pray away your trauma!). The result feels like a Lifetime movie that got lost on its way to Sunday school.
The Pacing: Watching Paint Dry, Then Watching It Explode
For a movie about bombs and riddles, Thr3e moves slower than a church potluck line. Scenes drag endlessly, padded with exposition and characters repeating things we already know. Every explosion should be a jolt, but they’re staged with all the suspense of a toaster popping. Even the sound design feels apologetic, like the movie is whispering, “Sorry for bothering you with this blast.”
The Aesthetic: Poland, But Make It Holy Beige
Filmed in Poland, the movie manages to make beautiful old-world locations look like the set of a low-budget soap opera. Every room is dimly lit, not for atmosphere but because someone forgot to pay the electric bill. The cinematography screams “straight-to-DVD,” and the editing feels like it was handled by someone whose only qualification was being awake at 3 a.m.
The Message: Evil is Just You Arguing with Yourself
By the end, Kevin is institutionalized after realizing R.K. was just his own inner darkness. Which means the entire movie was essentially him LARPing as his own nemesis. Imagine sitting through two hours of Scooby-Doo only to find out that Fred, Velma, and the gang were all hallucinations conjured up by Shaggy. Zoinks, indeed.
The movie pats itself on the back for this “profound” ending, but all it really proves is that evil can be boring as hell when filtered through Christian fiction that mistakes cliché for depth.
Why It Fails: Sin Without Spice
Horror and thrillers work when they embrace messy humanity—our fears, our vices, our dirty little secrets. Thr3e wants the thrill of sin without ever getting its hands dirty. It teases you with child abuse backstory, theological riddles, and serial killings, but it never dares to go anywhere raw or unsettling. It’s like ordering hot wings and being handed a plate of celery sticks dipped in holy water.
Final Verdict: Thrill-Free, Sin-Free, Entertainment-Free
Thr3e is proof that not everything needs a Christian version. It’s Se7en with the edges sanded off, Fight Club rewritten by a youth pastor, and Saw minus the actual saws. At 5% on Rotten Tomatoes, it’s practically a spiritual discipline to sit through the whole thing.
The film’s riddles aren’t clever, the scares aren’t scary, and the twists are older than the Dead Sea Scrolls. If the wages of sin is death, then the wages of watching Thr3e is sheer boredom. Consider it cinematic purgatory—one you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy, unless that enemy really, really loves bad sermons with car chases.
Final Riddle: What falls but never breaks? Thr3e’s box office.
What breaks but never falls? Anyone’s will to watch this thing.
