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Johannes Roberts delivers a hard-R adaptation of the Survival Horror series that gets everything right

Simply stated, survival horror would be nothing without the original Resident Evil game for PS1.

The game quickly became the best-selling of all time when it was unleashed for the OG Playstation back in 1996, and has been remade and released on countless consoles since. I remember saving up for months and picking it up a year after release due to the hype surrounding the game in the horror fandom. Now, keep in mind this was before zombies were as ubiquitous in pop culture as they are now, so a highly cinematic video game that featured zombies as antagonists was actually quite unique—especially since it felt very much inspired by the films of George Romero, who would later direct a commercial for the sequel. Romero would also be in the running for the requisite film adaptation, which would be directed by Paul W. S. Anderson coming off of Mortal Kombat.

That first film starring Milla Jovovich would be a very loose adaptation of the first game, and each entry would drift farther and farther from the source, devolving into a fun yet mindless sci-fi action franchise that would span more than a decade.

Resident Evil: Welcome to Raccoon City was announced mid-pandemic, and to be honest I didn’t know what to expect. But after seeing the trailer I was all in; not only did the visuals appear to be lifted right from that original game, but the plot also seemed to go back to that initial outbreak at Raccoon City for this back-to-basics reboot. The trailer also felt a bit more intimate and while the earlier franchise tended to go big, with hordes of CGI undead, instead this felt more like a modestly budgeted horror film that would rely on its atmosphere to supply its scares.

Written and directed by Johannes Roberts who gave us the massively underrated 47 Meters Down series, Welcome to Raccoon City is a period origin story that’s essentially a mashup of the first two games. Transpiring in 1998, the film follows Kaya Scodelario (Crawl) as Claire Redfield, who’s been lured back to Raccoon City by conspiracy theories of what the Umbrella Corporation is really up to; she hopes to get some answers with the help of her police officer brother Chris. This happens just as the town is going into lockdown by Umbrella — the fallout here being a mix of mutant zombies and radiation poisoning as the population of the town appears to be falling apart before our very eyes. This path eventually leads us to the Spencer Mansion and a race against time.

Doing the source justice, Raccoon City leans into its hard R rating, delivering some effective scares and plenty of the red stuff. It also feels a bit more grounded given its more realistic—at times claustrophobic—take. While the previous films felt more sci-fi than horror to me with their slick, almost futuristic production design, Raccoon City is first and foremost a horror film and makes that abundantly clear over and over, borrowing the grittier creature and location designs from the games. This is the film I feel like fans were originally promised, and while it may be too late for some, I am here for it. The solid cast of mostly up-and -comers solidifies the deal for me and further allows me to look at these folks as new takes on the characters, rather than stars slumming it in a video game adaptation. The film also brought to mind those real world cinematics that blew me away the first time I booted that black disc up in 1997.

The Blu-ray comes with a few featurettes that dig into the film’s production and connections to the source, spotlighting director Johannes Roberts’s fondness for the games. I would’ve loved a commentary here to dig in further on his take and what exactly influenced what, but sadly I have to settle for a few interviews that show a real connection to the material from a director who just nailed it. The disc looks great and sounds better, especially since sound design played such a crucial role in the game; you can tell the team spent some time on the mix to replicate that effect for the cinema. The sound field is your traditional horror—quiet when it needs to be and aggressive when it hits you with a scare—and it works.

Resident Evil: Welcome to Raccoon City exceeded my expectations with its sincere take on the material and left me hopeful for another film in this series. Johannes Roberts isn’t trying to put the film in a more relevant or avant-garde genre, instead keeping true to the source and the world that Capcom created with the series. It’s the rare adaptation that really captures what it was like to play the games while making it a fit for the motion picture format. I said it when I reviewed Crawl and I will say it again: Kaya Scodelario is great here and understood the assignment. She really fleshed out Claire Redfield in a way that felt true to the character and didn’t feel forced, like some adaptations can be when trying to translate a character from a game to a movie, where the flourishes can feel disingenuous or unnecessary. That being said, if you’re a fan, you’re probably going to dig the hell out of this. If you’re just looking for a solid zombie film, you’re in luck too!

Jefferson Moneo’s second feature is uneven, if ambitiously provocative.

While UFOs and the various, myriad conspiracy theories that formed around sightings, encounters, and abductions have faded from public consciousness through an apparent lack of evidence and changing interests (including new and, in some cases, far more destructive conspiracy theories), they remained an object(s) of lifelong fascination for writer-director Jefferson Moneo (The Big Muddy). Moneo decided to channel that borderline obsession into his second feature-length film, Cosmic Dawn, an uneven, if ambitiously provocative, lo-fi science-fiction thriller centered around an eerie UFO cult modeled on the infamous Heaven’s Gate cult that left almost 40 members dead by mass suicide more than two decades ago.

It’s probably not coincidental or accidental that Moneo opens Cosmic Dawn not in the present day, but in June, 1997 (the same year the Heaven’s Gate “ascended” aboard a spaceship hiding behind the Hale-Bopp comet), as a preteen girl, Aurora (Rachel Pellinen), witnesses a neon-drenched, psychedelic light show that permanently leaves her motherless, her mother abducted by extraterrestrials. The experience leaves the preteen Aurora so traumatized that twenty years later, a grown-up Aurora (Camille Rowe, The Deep House) hasn’t been able to reconcile herself to her mother’s unusual disappearance or her presumed death. Instead, Aurora drifts from nightclub to nightclub, accepting illicit drugs from strangers in sunglasses, and dancing to electronic music until the combination of sundry mind- and mood-altering substances and her own exhaustion temporarily lead her to the edge of oblivion and back again.

Despite how little we learn about Aurora in the intervening years, it’s abundantly clear her mental, emotional, and physical state make her an easy mark for the UFO-centered cult, “Cosmic Dawn,” that welcomes her with open arms, first through the form of Natalie (Emmanuelle Chriqui), the world’s most generous used-bookstore owner and cult member, and later though the guise of the singularly named Elyse (Antonia Zegers), the cult’s nominal leader and the revered author of the self-published, leather-bound tome (also called “Cosmic Dawn”) that Natalie eagerly shares with Aurora on her first visit to the bookstore. Almost immediately, Natalie invites Aurora to a cult members only meeting to meet the rest of the cult and, of course, Elyse, a charismatic figure who speaks with the calming voice and demeanor of a therapist, the faux-wisdom of a cult leader with all the answers to Aurora’s unanswered existential questions, and the manipulative mastery of a narcissistic sociopath.

Aurora’s vulnerability, however, doesn’t mean she falls immediately for whatever Natalie and Elyse are trying to sell her. Moneo’s well-rounded script gives Aurora just enough agency, along with sufficient levels of doubt, that she’s immediately duped by Natalie and Elyse. Moneo takes a more welcome, deliberate, methodical approach, depicting Aurora’s staggered descent into (almost) acceptance through a series of borderline unsettling scenes. He also cross cuts between two different time periods and two different Auroras, one in the “present” shown in the opening scenes and another four years later, distinguishing them via old-school vertical wipes, Aurora’s hair style, and a marked difference in Rowe’s body language and speech patterns. In the “present,” she’s nervous, edgy, uncomfortable in her own skin. The “four years later” Aurora seems to have shed those qualities, adopting a harder, more bitter edge that hints at a breaking point between Aurora and the cult without giving us the why, the where, or the how (until much later).

Eventually, Moneo sidesteps the intriguing, destabilizing ambiguity of the first half of the film (Aurora’s continuing vulnerability, the cult’s gaslighting, emphasis on isolation, and authoritarian rules used to facilitate Elyse’s control over the group) for a more definitive, ultimately unsatisfying ending. By giving Aurora both the answer she wants and the answer she needs, eliminating any ambiguity in the process, Moneo delivers a straightforwardly reductive answer that’s one part 2001: A Space Odyssey, one Close Encounters of the Third Kind, and one part Contact (i.e., three parts derivative, no parts original). Still, a missed opportunity or emotionally flat ending isn’t enough to completely undermine everything that preceded the final, pre-credits scenes. Ultimately, Cosmic Dawn works better as an insightful case study in cult mechanics than as a standalone science-fiction/thriller.

Cosmic Dawn opens theatrically on Friday, February 11th.

Branagh returns to the roles of Hercule Poirot and director, for his second Agatha Christie adaptation

There are few films as plagued by the pandemic as Death on the Nile. Enduring several release delays, not to mention a rather bumpy PR issue for several of its stars, Kenneth Branagh’s return to Agatha Christie’s works is finally hitting theaters. Another spin as director, after 2017’s Murder on the Orient Express, and as star, sticking on that famous mustache again as Hercule Poirot. Like it’s predecessor, Death on the Nile adheres closely to Christie’s original work, has plenty of polish, and a sprinkling of stardust thanks to a recognizable cast, but suffers some of the same missteps that cause it to fall short.

Events unfold in 1940s Egypt, with Poirot on sabbatical in the region. He gets swept up in the celebration and drama surrounding the wedding celebrations of wealthy heiress Linnet Ridgeway-Doyle (Gal Gadot), and the not wealthy, but quite handsome, Simon Doyle (Armie Hammer). Joining them at their sumptuous hotel in the company of Linnet’s inner circle of family and friends. Linnet’s former suitor Dr Linus Windlesham (Russell Brand), her cousin (and business manager) Andrew (Ali Fazal), maid Louise Bourget (Rose Leslie), godmother (Jennifer Saunders), with her nurse Mrs Bowers (Dawn French) in tow. Also on board are Poirot’s old friend Bouc (Tom Bateman, returning from his role in Murder on the Orient Express) along with his mother Euphemia (Annette Bening). Filling out the party is blues singer Salome Otterbourne (Sophie Okenodo) and her her manager/niece Rosalie (Letitia Wright), an old schoolfriend of Linnet’s. Spoiling the good time is the arrival of Jacqueline de Bellefort (Sex Education’s Emma Mackey), Linnet’s former best friend, and Simon’s former fiancee. Fueled by anger for the betrayal of the pair, she has been stalking them across the globe since her own engagement was torn apart. Concerned about their safety, the newlyweds decide on a change of venue, hiring a steamboat, the S.S. Karnak, and chugging off down the Nile. It’s not long before Jacqueline finds her way on board. Cue one murder, and Poirot gets to work, uncovering motive and intrigue within this social circle, as he tries to solve the case.

The “whodunnit” has long captured our imagination, with Agatha Christie deftly mining this genre to ensure her legacy as the world’s best selling novelist. Since Branagh’s Murder on the Orient Express, we were treated to Rian Johnson’s superb Knives Out, and more recently several small screen comedies, notably Steve Martin’s Murders in the Building and the Will Arnett vehicle Murderville. Satiating our bloodlust, offering procedural aspects, and the quintessential shifting landscape as characters spar and stress under suspicion. This enduring appeal gives Death on the Nile something of an innate appeal, and disappointingly, little else.

Screenwriter Michael Green keeps the tale generally true to Christie’s original vision, while adding some much needed diversity to the lineup. His only real addition to the tale is a prologue that while meant to impart some emotional gravitas to the film, instead just serves as a brooding origin story for facial hair. Overall the film doesn’t look to reinvent the wheel, instead settling for a generally fine, if often rickety ride. An assembly of suspects, each financially connected (or indebted) to Linnet, a step by step interrogation of the suspects, a little drama en route, and a final confrontation with the survivors. There is a lack of pace, misdirection and complexity, with a relatively inert climax. Instead of the chicanery that drove Murder on the Orient Express, Death on the Nile is more emotionally driven, primarily in matters of love. Forbidden love, unrequited love, obsession, lust, and everything in between. Not just woven into the connective strands between the passengers of the Karnack, but also into a fleshing out of Poirot’s character. Despite this, the film feels a little staid and shallow, failing to take advantage of some more juicy moments or character traits.

Aesthetically, the film lacks the sumptuousness of Murder on the Orient Express, horribly drab CGI evident, notably in building the Egyptian landscapes. The classic nature of the film cries for a tangibility that is frequently lacking. Some color is found amongst the performances. Branagh’s turn as Poirot has a undeniable charm, even if it is a little more dour this time out. Russell Brand impresses as a quietly-spoken ex of Linnet’s, somehow managing to better sell heartbreak than Branagh. Letitia Wright’s performance shows some teeth and frankly, it’s always a delight to see French and Saunders reunited. But the real standout is Okenodo, who infuses her performance with sass and soul. A smattering of sparkle throughout the film, but not enough to truly elevate Death on the Nile. Leaving us with a slice of old-fashioned entertainment, one that just isn’t quite satisfying enough for modern appetites.

Death on the Nile hits theaters on February 11th, 2022

Mark Williams’s action flick disappoints.

Despite hitting the 70-year mark in a few months, actor Liam Neeson repeatedly continues to out-work, out-hustle, and even out-act performers half his age. Since the Luc Besson-produced Taken shocked then current box-office prognosticators in the spring of 2008, becoming a major commercial hit in the process, Neeson has starred, co-starred, or appeared in close to 50 films, including more than a dozen mid-budget action-thrillers. For the studios eagerly financing Neeson’s profitable post-2008-career, modest financial risks have equated to modest or better box-office returns. Often the most talented performer in the formulaic films he leads, Neeson seems more than willing to sign onto one generic action thriller after another as long as the check clears. Unfortunately, Blacklight, the latest addition to his CV, does little to curb this increasingly downward, increasingly disappointing trend.

Before introducing Travis Block (Neeson), an FBI operative who works, we’re repeatedly told, on “off-the-books” assignments for the FBI Director, Gabriel Robinson (Aidan Quinn), Blacklight opens with a political rally in Washington, D.C. (Canberra, Australia, an unconvincing stand-in) and an AOC-inspired activist-turned-political-candidate, Sofia Flores (Mel Jarnson). In a sign of head-scratching, confusing things to come, Flores gives a speech that mixes left-wing politics with right-wing rhetoric at a small-scale, lightly attended rally. She’s young, attractive, and charismatic, apparently making her a danger to national security (or something). Before the audience gets too attached to Flores, she’s struck down in a hit-and-run, sending an undercover FBI agent, Dusty Crane (Taylor John Smith), into panicked flight, and Block, newly activated by his boss/handler, in non-urgent pursuit.

Like so many forgettable characters played by Neeson over the last decade and a half, Block has family issues, serious family issues. This time out, Block’s in dire need of repairing his fractured relationship with his thirty-something daughter, Amanda (Claire van der Boom), and Amanda’s preschool-aged daughter, Natalie (Gabriella Sengos). Block just wants to be a good dad and an even better granddad, but decades of working for Robinson have left him a perpetually paranoid, twitchy mess. Suffering from OCD doesn’t help either, though it’s meant to make his aging semi-hero slightly more sympathetic, especially since Block, whose developed a specialty in rescuing and recovering deep-cover FBI agents before they go rogue or go to the press, repeatedly justifies his actions as “just following orders.”

That alone places Block as a questionably motivated character on the wrong side of authoritarianism, but co-writer director Mark Williams (Honest Thief, A Definitely Maybe), prefers an audience that sits back, enjoys the sporadic, underlit action scenes, and above all, asks no questions of Block’s character, his motivation, or his place in an ever-growing conspiracy theory that ultimately encompasses Block, Amanda, Natalie, and Mira Jones (Emmy Raver-Lampman, The Umbrella Academy), a government conspiracy-hunting reporter who crosses paths with Crane and thus, Block. Block, in turn, inexplicably tries to talk Jones into dropping her investigation (she understandably does the exact opposite) before she becomes a target of the shadowy government operatives who eliminated Flores and want to do the same before Crane says too much to all the wrong people (i.e., Jones, other reporters).

From Blacklight’s convoluted story beats, it’s obvious Williams wants to meld old-school, ‘70s-style paranoid conspiracy thrillers (e.g., Three Days of the Condor, The Parallax View, All the President’s Men) with 21st-century action-hero tropes (Liam Neeson Edition). Unfortunately, Williams and his co-writer, Nick May, failed to understand what made those conspiracy thrillers work five decades ago, what needed to remain the same for contemporary audiences and what needed be updated, and how to create meaningful, suspenseful scenarios out of characters behaving in a believable, credible manner. Instead, the one-dimensional characters in Blacklight often make nonsensical, head-scratching decisions, shedding IQ points as dictated by plot demands rather than anything approaching the real world.

With sparsely sporadic action scenes that, at best, can be described either as incoherent, ill-conceived, or poorly executed, Blacklight doesn’t even qualify as an adequate time-waster or passable, disposable entertainment. Minus Neeson’s usually committed, gruff turn and gravitas-filled line readings, there’s nothing else worthy of the effort necessary to sit through Blacklight except as background fodder or Neeson completists with masochistic streaks.

Blacklight opens theatrically Friday, February 11th.