The Evil Dead franchise has now been running for over forty years, a fact made only more insane when considering where it all began: at a cabin in the woods, with a few friends, and the dream of making one of the scariest movies ever made.
In the years since Sam Raimi’s original film took the world by storm, much has changed about both the landscape of the cinematic horror genre and about Evil Dead as a series. Outside of directing the very first episode of the TV series Ash vs Evil Dead in 2015, Raimi has largely passed the baton of the franchise on. He hasn’t directed a proper Evil Dead movie since 1992’s Army of Darkness, instead opting to find fresh-blooded directors to come in and deliver their own spin on the franchise ever since.
This has yielded some interesting, if slightly compromised results, in the form of Fede Álvarez’s 2013 remake, simply titled Evil Dead, and Lee Cronin’s 2023 film, Evil Dead Rise. Each of these latter-day installments saw their respective directors going all in on crafting films that were distinct to their own sensibilities while also attempting to serve as loving homages to Raimi’s original trilogy of films. But the latest film, Sébastien Vaniček’s Evil Dead Burn, serves as something of a culminating moment for the series.
Not only does it solidify this new approach to the series, wherein a new director is effectively given the keys to the Cadillac each time, but it also serves as a true demarcation point for the franchise. Which is to say, Evil Dead Burn is the most original, inspired, and compelling Evil Dead film in decades.
As writer and director, Vaniček steps into the world of Evil Dead and immediately feels right at home within the opening frames of this film. Narratively, Burn is a direct follow-up to Evil Dead Rise, while also serving as something of an overarching payoff to nearly all of the previous films.
The story of the film centers on the Price family, whose missing patriarch, Benjamin Price, has unexpected ties to the Book of the Dead and all of the horrifying events it has unleashed over the years. When one member of the family unexpectedly dies in a horrific way, it brings everyone back together in their old family home, setting the table for chaos to soon be unleashed.
So switch out the old cabin in the woods from the original films or the high-rise apartment from Rise for an old Victorian home, and you’ve got yourself an Evil Dead Burn? Well, not quite.
As has literally always been the case, the true ingenuity of these films rarely comes from the narrative but rather from the cinematic execution itself. Raimi’s original films were little more than concoctions of what were even then decades old horror tropes, but sewing them together with a ruthlessly ambitious craft made the whole thing sing. Vaniček and co. definitely got the message on this, because from a formal perspective, this thing is balls-to-the-wall from the get-go.
Vaniček and cinematographer Philip Lozano have crafted an eccentric, kinetic, and harrowing visual language for the film as a whole. So much of the fluid and motivated camerawork is clearly inspired by Raimi’s benchmark-setting work on the originals, but the team here opts to take influence from those movies and spin off into their own directions rather than ape it directly.
Take, for example, a late-in-the-film oner, which was featured in the first teaser trailer; it is very similar to the oner from Evil Dead II, in which Raimi’s camera follows Bruce Campbell as he runs all over the cabin for an extended period of time, crashing through all sorts of walls and doors in the process, veering from terror to comedy and back again. Only here, Vaniček allows the madness to unfold all around the primary character of Alice (as played with such soul and presence by Souheila Yacoub) as she crawls through it. It’s a different approach built from the same core idea that opens up entirely new possibilities that the director and his team relentlessly pursue. What begins as a grounded, immersive, and harrowing shot goes on for so long, with so many characters crashing in and out of the frame, that it veers into the kind of gallows humor insanity the franchise is known for with aplomb.
This shot is actually a solid metaphor for the film as a whole, which is keenly plugged into the stories, themes, and craft of the previous films but is far more interested in using that established familiarity against audiences than it is in adhering to any sense of reverence or nostalgia. For the record, this is a great thing in my book and is distinctly in keeping with Raimi’s own sensibilities. Evil Dead II literally opens with Raimi turning the final shot of the first movie into an extended gag; this is a franchise that has always thumbed its nose at such things, and Burn does a stellar job of reviving that subversive streak.
On top of all of this, as hinted at by my praise of that one, I am delighted to report that Evil Dead Burn is a very funny film. Every time a new Evil Dead comes out, the marketing strives to sell it as the "most horrifying entry yet," and make no mistake; Evil Dead Burn is a gnarly, extremely gruesome, and frequently squirm-inducing film. But it’s also filled with great gags.
Maxime Caro’s editing throughout is sublime, turning Vaniček and Lozano’s penchant for juxtaposing ultra-tight close-ups and ultra-wide shots into an ever-escalating sense of suspense and dread. But the ways in which Caro is able to sell so many of the film’s best visual jokes with match cuts and juxtaposition alone are extremely impressive.
The tonal tightrope act that the film is managing grows even more impressive as it goes, as Vaniček delves deeper into the emotional core of this story, digging through the connective tissue that binds the Price family members together just as invasively as he explores the mutilated bodies. There’s a scene that unfolds near the end of the second act, focusing on Susan, Edgar, and Polly, that explores Deadites and the familial dynamic in ways that are both riveting and, frankly, surprisingly enlightening.
A huge part of it is the strength of these three performances, with Tandi Wright, Erroll Shand, and Maude Davey all doing fantastic work, respectively. But it's also Vaniček’s keen eye and willingness to explore entirely other elements relating to the franchise’s overarching lore and how it affects these characters specifically. The scene is horrifying, incredibly funny, and tender in a way that catches you off guard.
Other highlights of the film include Nick Connor’s production design, which turns the Price house into a dilapidating, heaving organism all its own, and Double Danger’s musical score, which is saturated with choral arrangements and high-octane gothic overtones. I also can’t say enough about how much of an accomplishment it is that this film hits the ground running and not only never lets up but also manages to continuously escalate the pace, tension, and terror from there. It is a non-stop, go-for-the-jugular horror experience that gives you the most bang for your buck possible in truly gonzo ways.
Ultimately, Evil Dead Burn is a helluva time, proving to be the most singular and idiosyncratic cinematic entry in this franchise since Raimi relinquished the reins. Sébastien Vaniček and co. have crafted a film that engages deeply with the franchise as a whole, just maybe not in the ways that audiences or longtime fans are expecting. By doing this, it feels like they’ve opened up a whole new world of possibilities for this franchise. No longer will future films feel the need to be shackled to the monumental accomplishments of the series’ past, as Evil Dead Burn has scorched the soil and left it fit for new seeds to blossom.
GRADE: B+
Add us as a preferred source on Google