Evil Dead Burn (2026)

Score: 3.5 / 5

In a year marked by waves of viral attention for "elevated" horror in Backrooms and Obsession, it seemed that the inevitable kickback would be brutal. Indeed, the Deadites arise to wreak havoc in our summer, pouring gore into our eyes just when we thought we were safe. 

If a film can be a bully, this is it. Mean-spirited and cruel in a calculated way, Evil Dead Burn delivers a knockout experience. The franchise tilts again into full-blown torture porn as it did in 2013; instead of dealing with addiction, though, this time we're dealing with domestic abuse. You know, because horror films these days have to be about something. I had rather hoped that with the success of Evil Dead Rise the franchise would continue to lean into its uniquely macabre sense of humor, but this one is so bleak I had to literally shake it off as I left the cinema. Rare is the film that makes me feel evil as a palpable presence (Infinity Pool comes to mind), yet in this screening, I had to avert my eyes to remind myself to breathe.

Rather than eliciting joyful frisson, this film works hard to make you feel its carnage. Though I didn't recognize a single actor in the film, and the characters were generally unlikable, I nevertheless found myself groaning along with their screams. Something between the editing and sound design worked really well to craft an experience of being in pain along with the character, adding a sense of weight and wetness we feel more than see; frankly, it reminded me of The Passion of the Christ in that way. It didn't help that the film also bravely steps into full taboo territory by deliberately choosing to exploit the mutilation of an animal by a human. As someone who can stomach a lot, I wish I had known in advance of this screening that the family dog would be brutally killed no fewer than three separate times during this film. Consider this your warning. You're welcome.

An exhausting film, Burn takes you through a gauntlet course for your endurance. Once the violence starts -- was it three minutes? Five, maybe, into the film? -- it does not let up, relentlessly assaulting your eyes with unspeakable horrors. There was a plot, I think, because I remember not quite following it. Of course, a long time fan, I can catch up pretty quick when the characters talk about a Kandarian dagger and the Necronomicon, but the entire opening sequence of this film could only make sense if you saw Evil Dead Rise. And then there's the post-credits scene, which I'm not even going to try to understand now, but I'm annoyed anyway because we don't need more franchises with endless interconnected stories. We just don't, and Evil Dead works best as standalone bloodbaths with imaginative violence and a sick comedic bent.

But even in the bulk of the film, which is I suppose more standalone, the plot is at once painfully simple and needlessly complicated. What is taking Will so long, when the possessed keep saying he's coming? Can Deadites now reassemble their burned, drowned, dismembered, and even cremated bodies? And don't get me started on the final girl, who is immediately recognizable as the eventual survivor of an abusive husband and his enabling family. What carried me through, instead, were some of the amazing cinematography and fight choreography, which make the ever-increasing violence watchable if not always palatable. One distinct memory is a fight in a car as Edgar, the family father, becomes possessed and uses every conceivable part of the inside of the car as a weapon; it's so brilliant I had to remind myself to breathe (have I mentioned that I was breathless for most of this movie?).

The filmmakers embrace the titular idea of burning in the ashy palette of this production in lighting and color grading, much like the conceptual high-rise of Evil Dead Rise. It does make the affair more visually solemn, which could feel like a bit of a downer for some audiences who prefer humor with their blood. This is as nihilistic as they come (though with a few nice laughs, especially during the funeral scene and later from the grandmother), so when we dip into slow-motion during particularly nasty moments, I wanted to stand and cry, "Why? Why??" because it would at least release the pressure in the room.

Sebastien Vanicek was clearly the effective choice here as director. While stylistically very different from Lee Cronin, Fede Alvarez, and of course Sam Raimi, Vanicek has already proven his talents with Infested, one of the most upsetting spider horror flicks I've endured. Here he continues turning the screws, pushing his singularly nasty vision into a bold new frontier for the franchise as he makes us wriggle in our seats. Call it part of the French extreme horror canon or not, that this film is bringing that sensibility to an American cult phenomenon is remarkable and pretty cool.