When I opened my chat with Johnny Sequoyah and Troy Kotsur by calling them “the two scariest people I know,” they were disarmingly cheerful. Which feels unfair, considering they’ve just delivered one of the most nerve-shredding creature features in recent memory with Primate. But beneath the laughs and New Year hangover jokes, there was something genuinely fascinating about how they built the film’s terror… Especially when that terror involved a chimpanzee that wasn’t actually there.

Sequoyah, a self-confessed animal lover, had one major concern when she signed on: how her dog would react when she came home smelling like a chimp. “Luckily,” she laughed, “it wasn’t a real chimp.” The production used a fake animal throughout filming; both to protect real wildlife and to allow the cast to safely stage the film’s feral attacks. But emotionally? It didn’t feel fake. “It’s like having your pet turn against you,” she said. “Unimaginable.” The psychological horror of that idea, the betrayal of something you love, is what makes Primate sting long after the credits roll.

Then there’s Troy Kotsur, who somehow turns silence into the loudest weapon in the room.

Kotsur, who won an Oscar for CODA, refuses to be boxed in by expectation. “I don’t want to be looked at as just because I’m an actor who happens to be deaf,” he said. “I’m a lot more than that.” And in Primate, he proves it. Running. Climbing. Fighting off a feral chimp. He’s not just stretching his range… He’s ripping it open.

What makes his performance so terrifying is how the film uses silence. Horror audiences are conditioned to jump at musical stings and ominous sound design. Kotsur’s character doesn’t get that luxury. “I’ve lived in silence all my life,” he said matter-of-factly. “It’s no different for me.” That perspective fundamentally shifts the way suspense works. Instead of sound cues, tension builds through sight; through what he sees, what he senses, what he doesn’t yet understand.

When his character enters a wrecked house and initially assumes his teenagers threw a party, the dread creeps in visually. A mess. Something off. Then the discovery of a dead body. That raw reaction plays entirely through his face and physicality. The audience, so used to listening for danger, is forced to watch for it instead. It’s a masterclass in visual storytelling… And one of the film’s smartest creative choices.

What Primate Is Actually About

Primate follows a family thrown into chaos when a highly intelligent chimpanzee turns violently unpredictable. What begins as an unsettling domestic mystery quickly spirals into survival horror as the creature stalks its human counterparts with calculated brutality.

The film blends creature-feature intensity with psychological horror. Think the primal fear of Jaws but in the confines of a suburban home, a comparison Sequoyah herself made when listing her horror Mount Rushmore. (Her full list? The Shining, Misery, Jaws, and, very fittingly, Primate.)

Johnny & Troy: Two Very Different Journeys

For Johnny Sequoyah, Primate marks another bold step into genre territory. She’s steadily built a career blending vulnerability with steel, and here she taps into both, balancing emotional authenticity with outright terror. Watching her discuss screening the film in her hometown cinema, you’re reminded she’s still that kid who loved movies… Just now she’s the one scaring entire audiences.

Troy Kotsur, meanwhile, continues to dismantle expectations. After his Academy Award win, he could have played it safe. Instead, he’s sprinting toward action-heavy horror roles and daring filmmakers to limit him. “Bring it on,” he said when I asked if he’s ready to pivot into full action hero mode. It didn’t feel like bravado. It felt inevitable.

Together, they make Primate more than just a creature feature. It’s a film driven by emotional stakes, inventive suspense, and performances that don’t rely on easy tricks.

And thanks to them, I now have a brand-new irrational fear: not sharks in the bath, not ghosts in hotels… But a chimpanzee lurking just outside my door at dusk.

So yes, I’ll be running home tonight.