The latest entry to the horror franchise tilts into darker themes than usual, and loses some of its gonzo vibes in the process
The Evil Dead series has always thrived on a gleefully wicked mythology, rooted in the creativity and gonzo horror sensibilities of its driving force, Sam Raimi. Since the original trilogy, however, the franchise has increasingly become a playground for emerging horror filmmakers to reinterpret that foundation through their own lens. Fede Álvarez delivered a punishingly visceral reinvention with Evil Dead (2013), Lee Cronin expanded the scope of demonic infestation with Evil Dead Rise, and now Sébastien Vaniček brings a distinctly different flavor to the series with Evil Dead Burn.
Rather than centering on a remote cabin or isolated victims, Burn follows Alice (Souheila Yacoub), a young French woman trapped in a toxic marriage with Will (George Pullar). Their relationship is already defined by volatility and violence, with a night out at the club they operate together devolving into yet another physical altercation. When Will is killed in a car crash after colliding with a Deadite-driven threat, Alice is drawn back into the orbit of the family she remains tethered to through her marriage. The funeral brings together Will’s father Edgar (Erroll Shand), mother Susan (Tandi Wright), younger brother Joe (Hunter Doohan), Joe’s partner Thya (Luciane Buchanan), and the family’s dementia-stricken grandmother (Maude Davey) at their decaying country home. Grief and dysfunction provide fertile ground for demonic corruption. Rot seems to fester within the house long before a supernatural intrusion takes hold. Years of resentment, abuse, and unresolved trauma turn the gathering into a powder keg of emotions that is ultimately insignificant compared to the evil seeking to consume them all.
What distinguishes Burn from much of the franchise is the nature of its possession. Rather than presenting a singular mocking manifestation of evil, the demonic force is dispersed throughout the family, exploiting existing fractures and amplifying deeply buried pain. The result is a threat that feels more intimate but also less playful. The Deadites here are largely stripped of the prankish petulance and cackling wickedness so synonymous with the series, replaced by something colder and more generic in nature.
The violence remains very much in keeping with franchise tradition. Limb hacking, skin shaving, skull crushing, and blood-and-goop soaked bodies abound. Vaniček demonstrates an obvious appreciation for practical effects, with several sequences delivering the kind of playfully gruesome carnage audiences expect. Innovative weapon choices, inventive kills, and visual nods to previous entries help maintain a connection to the series’ legacy. Fans should pay close attention to the gallery wall on the staircase for a particularly familiar face.
The film also expands the mythology in notable ways. Interweaving with the events of Evil Dead Rise while establishing connections back to the original films, Burn introduces the Circle of Wise Men, a secret society devoted to combating demonic forces. The family home contains research conducted by Will and Joe’s grandfather into the Necronomicon and the broader supernatural threat The concept gives the Deadites a more deliberate objective beyond simple chaos and corruption, and positions the series for larger stories moving forward. It’s an interesting addition, even if it feels somewhat flimsy and underdeveloped within the broader mythology.
Where Burn proves more unsuccessful is in its handling of trauma. The screenplay by Vaniček and Florent Bernard spends considerable time establishing abuse, family conflict, and psychological damage. The relationships feel authentic, fraught, and convincingly acted, particularly Yacoub’s performance as the resented outsider within this deeply dysfunctional family. The film is willing to sit in misery for extended stretches before unleashing the horror. That commitment becomes both a strength and a weakness.
Past Evil Dead films have certainly been bleak, but they were also infused with a wicked sense of humor. Cruelty came packaged with a grin. Here, the misery is largely uninterrupted. Fleeting moments of dark humor emerge, but nothing substantial enough to offset the relentless focus on trauma and abuse. To Vaniček’s credit, it would be difficult to seriously explore domestic violence before immediately puncturing the mood with a comedic wink. The problem is less that the humor is diminished and more that the film never fully reconciles these darker themes with the franchise’s identity. The exploration of abuse often feels superficial, with emotional resolution reduced to cathartic confrontations rather than meaningful examination. Toughening characters through increasingly severe physical and psychological punishment until they can finally stand up to an abuser is not particularly insightful character development. Horror continues to embrace trauma as an emotional driver while often struggling to engage with it in a substantive manner, and Burn falls into that same trap. The sacrifice of the series’ trademark black comedy never quite feels justified by the depth of what replaces it.
Visually, the film is similarly uneven. For much of its runtime, Burn is visually surprisingly drab. The decaying family home and muted color palette leave the deep red of blood and viscera as the primary source of visual vibrancy. When Vaniček finally cuts loose in the films second half, the film becomes more exciting. Frenetic camerawork, sweeping movements, and dizzying perspectives during the film’s major set pieces. A standout confrontation staged across the surfaces of a bathroom showcases the filmmaker’s flair for dynamic visual storytelling. Unfortunately, some later sequences rely on conspicuous CGI that sits awkwardly beside the otherwise impressive practical effects work.
Ultimately, Evil Dead Burn feels caught between two competing visions. It wants to be a darker, more trauma-driven horror film while still inhabiting the Evil Dead universe, yet never fully commits to either approach. The result is a film that delivers only half of what each side promises. Fans craving a meaner, nastier horror experience that hews closer to New French Extremity than the franchise’s more slapstick roots may find plenty to appreciate. Others may find themselves missing the wicked spark that has long defined Evil Dead.
Even so, there is something admirable about its ambition. By bringing in new filmmakers with distinct perspectives and allowing them to push the mythology in unexpected directions, the franchise continues to evolve rather than simply repeating itself. Evil Dead Burn may lack the cackling glee and irreverent energy that made the series iconic, but its willingness to take risks ensures it remains an interesting, if flawed, addition to the ever-expanding Evil Dead universe.
Evil Dead Burn creeps into theaters on July 10th
