In the ever-growing list of post-apocalyptic sci-fi films, “40 Acres” finds its place as more than just another grim vision of tomorrow. It’s not simply about what happens after society collapses—it’s about who rebuilds it, how they survive, and what they choose to protect when there’s not much left. If most sci-fi of the 2020s feels like a warning siren, “40 Acres” is a quiet, urgent prayer wrapped in barbed wire. It’s set in a world ravaged by greed, unchecked capitalism, and ecological collapse—basically a mirror to ours, but cracked and darkened by a few more disasters.
Fourteen years before the film begins, a fungal pandemic wiped out most animals and livestock. That was quickly followed by another tragedy—an all-out civil war that tore through the already fragile threads of what used to be the United States. There’s no government healthcare anymore, no zoos or pets or cows on a field. Just people, crops, and whatever sense of community they can cling to. This is the world of “40 Acres,” and it’s not trying to sugarcoat anything.
Welcome to the Freeman Farm
The story centers around the Freeman family, who live on—you guessed it—40 acres of land. It’s all farmland, with only three standing buildings: a big farmhouse, a barn, and a garage. This is their whole world, their fortress, their history, and their future. Two adults and four kids—ranging from elementary school age to college-bound—call this place home. It’s less about nuclear family structure and more about chosen kinship. The Freemans are a blended family of Black and Indigenous heritage, drawing from all corners of North America, not just the U.S.
That cultural fusion isn’t just background detail—it’s central to the film’s heartbeat. These are the original stewards of the land, reclaiming what’s theirs and rebuilding with care, respect, and knowledge passed down through generations. They don’t just grow crops; they nurture the land, attuned to its seasonal shifts and rhythms. This kind of intentional living might seem like a return to basics, but in a world starved of empathy, it’s revolutionary.
“40 Acres” Doesn’t Waste Time
The movie kicks off with a bang—literally. The action-packed opening scene isn’t just there to flex muscles; it sets the tone for how this family operates. They work like a unit, with precision and trust, defending their territory and one another. It’s thrilling, yes, but it also offers a sneak peek at the larger conflict brewing in the background. There’s a storm coming, and the Freemans are preparing for it.
And let’s take a moment to appreciate the loaded symbolism of the family name—Freeman. It’s not subtle, but it’s powerful. The writers know exactly what they’re doing by tying this story to the legacies of emancipation, justice, and reclamation. And then there’s the title, “40 Acres”—a direct reference to the unfulfilled promise of reparations for formerly enslaved people. These choices may seem obvious, but there’s strength in calling out history and making it a foundation, not a footnote.
Star Power and Breakout Performances
At the center of this family is Hailey Freeman, played with fierce resolve by Danielle Deadwyler. She’s the film’s biggest star, and it shows. Deadwyler brings an unshakable intensity to the role of matriarch—regimented, guarded, and battle-worn. She keeps her emotions tightly wound, her face a mask of quiet vigilance. But beneath that coldness is a mother who loves deeply and protects with everything she’s got.
Opposite her, the supporting cast holds their own. Kateem O’Connor shines as Manny, Hailey’s teenage son, who’s starting to feel the itch to stretch beyond their farmland bubble. His coming-of-age arc is full of tension—between tradition and independence, security and curiosity. He wants more than just 40 acres, and that desire becomes a catalyst for the film’s central conflict.
Then there’s Danis, the middle daughter, who earns the family’s respect by becoming a soldier. Her promotion is one of the few celebratory moments in the film, a brief breath of joy in a world where good news is scarce. The scene is made all the more poignant when we realize Manny missed it—off on one of his unauthorized adventures. Flashbacks to their early farm days, including Hailey’s return from military service, help us understand the roots of Manny’s restlessness and need to escape the life that shaped him.
Parallels to Octavia Butler’s Legacy
Even before the film nods to it, you can feel the influence of Octavia Butler. “40 Acres” feels like a spiritual cousin to Parable of the Sower and Parable of the Talents. Both books explore the collapse of society, familial bonds, and the shaping of new beliefs amidst chaos. Butler’s lead, Lauren Olamina, is a hardened survivor, while the second book shifts focus to her daughter, Asha, and their differing worldviews. Similarly, “40 Acres” follows that push and pull between generations—between a parent holding tight to survival and a child reaching for more.
And while the thematic echoes are strong, “40 Acres” doesn’t feel like a knockoff. It stands on its own by weaving in distinctly modern, culturally grounded details—from Indigenous language preservation to DIY security systems.
Communication Is Survival
In a world where the internet is toast and tech is spotty at best, communication becomes both a lifeline and a symbol. The Freemans rely on a patchwork of tools: walkie-talkies, coded whistles, and even Cree, the language of their ancestors. These aren’t just practical tools—they’re cultural anchors. When Galen, the family’s paternal figure, says, “I speak in the language of my ancestors,” it hits. Because in this world, keeping a language alive is just as crucial as keeping crops alive. And when Galen eventually passes on, the implication is clear—these traditions must be carried forward.
The Freemans also talk with neighboring farms through long-range radio, forming a sort of post-collapse neighborhood watch. It’s a refreshing reminder that even in isolation, community matters.
Nature, Noise, and the Power of Stillness
One of the film’s greatest strengths lies in its sound design and lighting. The cinematography uses natural light to create an atmosphere of authenticity. Electricity exists but is rationed for essentials like the farm’s perimeter security system. At dusk, when natural light begins to fade, the sound takes over. You hear everything—the rustle of dying crops, the creak of a blade leaving its sheath, the chilling click of a gun’s safety being turned off. Every Freeman is trained to read these signs; silence and sound both mean something here. It’s this attention to detail that builds a slow-burning suspense.
The film’s pacing is deliberate, letting you sit in the tension rather than rushing through it. That said, it’s not without its missteps. Some moments stretch plausibility—like characters surviving serious injuries in a world without hospitals. The film pays lip service to the idea that nurses are revered, but it’s hard to believe someone’s walking around after taking a knife to the gut with nothing more than bandages and prayers.
Some Head-Scratchers and Quirks
There are a few other minor blips in the realism department. One scene features a character listening to Rema’s “Calm Down” on a Walkman. While the song’s a bop, the logistics raise questions—how did a 2023 pop hit get onto a cassette after streaming services collapsed? Did someone hand-dub it onto tape before society went down? It’s a small inconsistency, but one that momentarily snaps you out of the film’s otherwise immersive world.
Then there’s the ending, which leans a little too hopeful. After a climactic attack on the Freeman farm, the resolution is surprisingly tidy. No major losses. No real sacrifice. Just a few bruises and more hands to help rebuild. For a film that leans so heavily into realism and grittiness, the finale feels like it’s wearing rose-colored glasses. But maybe that’s the point.
Hope at the End of the World
Despite its occasional hiccups, “40 Acres” delivers something rare in post-apocalyptic fiction: hope that isn’t saccharine. The Freemans don’t win because they outgun or outsmart their enemies—they win because they stay rooted in love, land, and legacy. They pass down languages, stories, survival skills. They fight, yes, but they also plant. And when the dust settles, they build again. It’s this kind of emotional realism—more than the action or the world-building—that sticks with you.
“Watch your six,” Hailey says again and again to her family. It’s more than just tactical advice; it’s a philosophy. Stay alert. Stay loyal. Don’t get too comfortable. Every major conflict in the film happens when someone forgets to look behind them, to watch their back. And in this world, that kind of mistake could cost you everything.
Final Verdict
“40 Acres” is a bold debut for director R.T. Thorne and a testament to the storytelling power of those often left out of the genre spotlight. It brings together the past, present, and possible future with a sincerity that’s rare and a cast that carries it beautifully. Danielle Deadwyler proves yet again she can do anything, and the supporting actors rise to meet her intensity. The pacing might falter, and the plot might take some leaps, but the film’s heart never wavers.
It’s not just about surviving the apocalypse—it’s about redefining what it means to live, to love, to lead. “40 Acres” shows us that even in a world gone dark, there’s light to be found in the soil, in language, in family.
