We’re back in the world of the Necronomicon, and just as expected, you can smell the blood and sulfur from the very first minute. The latest installment in the franchise just hit with a promise: to drag us right back into pure terror. The result? A bittersweet experience that left me split down the middle.
The movie hits the ground running, no fluff attached. This is where we get that true Evil Dead essence: unique, anxiety-inducing, violent scenes, and a level of splatter so creative and ruthless it makes you squirm in your seat (in a good way obviously!). It’s that visceral, unsettling kind of horror that forces you to watch through your fingers. If you’re looking for unapologetic, hardcore gore, the first part of the film deliver exactly what you came for.
In a cast where, honestly, I struggled to feel any real empathy for the protagonists, there is one striking exception: the grandmother suffering from dementia. Without a doubt, she is the finest, most eccentric, and unintentionally unsettling character in the entire film. She steals the show every time she appears, delivering the moments of pure tension that make the movie memorable. An absolute icon. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for the other characters as they are written in a way that serves the plot a bit too strictly to leave a lasting impression.
And here’s where the bitter aftertaste kicks in. Where past chapters of the franchise would close on a crescendo of pure, nihilistic terror, this movie decides to pivot. The ending shifts its focus almost entirely to a metaphor about the protagonist breaking free from the chains of her abusive ex-husband. Don’t get me wrong: the message of empowerment is powerful and entirely valid. But it felt like the movie sacrificed that final, relentless dread—the very trademark of the Evil Dead series—just to make room for this social commentary.
Technically, it’s a great movie that knows exactly how to trigger your anxiety, but at a certain point, it stops being a “pure survival horror” and turns into a story of personal reclamation. An interesting experiment, but one that arguably lost a bit of its dark soul right at the finish line.
