Hellraiser

I’ve always felt that the Hellraiser franchise was the cinematic equivalent of a toxic relationship. You keep going back hoping things will change, only to find yourself staring at another low-budget, straight-to-DVD sequel that looks like it was filmed in a damp basement in Bulgaria. By the time the tenth installment rolled around, the series wasn't just tired; it was practically mummified. So, when I heard David Bruckner—the guy who gave us the masterfully creepy The Night House—was taking a crack at a reboot for Hulu, I felt a rare spark of genuine curiosity.

I watched this one on a Tuesday night while nursing a lukewarm cup of peppermint tea, and honestly, the sheer contrast between my cozy fuzzy socks and the absolute carnage on screen made for a very confusing sensory experience.

A New Dimension of Discomfort

Unlike the endless stream of sequels that felt like generic slasher scripts with Pinhead shoehorned in at the last minute, the 2022 Hellraiser actually feels like it belongs in the world Clive Barker built in The Hellbound Heart. David Bruckner isn’t interested in the "leather-daddy" aesthetic of the 80s; he opts for something far more elegant and upsetting.

The Cenobites here aren't wearing BDSM gear; their "clothing" is actually their own skin, pinned and peeled into intricate patterns. It’s a brilliant update that feels contemporary and high-art in a way that makes the gore feel almost liturgical. The standout, naturally, is Jamie Clayton as The Priest. Stepping into the shoes (or pins) of Doug Bradley is a thankless task, but Clayton manages to be regal, terrifying, and strangely alluring. She delivers her lines with a soft, melodic hiss that makes the Cenobites feel less like movie monsters and more like terrifyingly indifferent bureaucrats from a dimension of pure sensation.

The Weight of the Box

The story centers on Riley, played with a frayed, frantic energy by Odessa A’zion. She’s a recovering addict who stumbles upon the iconic Lament Configuration, and for the first time in a long time, the film actually finds a thematic tether for the horror. In this era of "elevated horror" (a term I personally find a bit pretentious, but it fits the vibe here), the box serves as a blunt but effective metaphor for addiction. Riley is looking for a fix, a shortcut to a different reality, and the Cenobites are only too happy to provide a "reward" that looks a lot like a nightmare.

Odessa A’zion (who you might recognize from Grand Army) is fantastic at playing "messy." She’s not a perfect final girl; she’s often selfish and deeply flawed, which makes the stakes feel heavier. When her brother, played by Brandon Flynn, disappears, the guilt drives the narrative forward with a momentum that many of the previous sequels lacked. I also have to shout out Drew Starkey, who brings a slippery, suspicious energy to Trevor—a character you never quite feel comfortable with.

Practical Magic in a Digital World

One of the biggest concerns with a modern Hellraiser was that it would be a CGI-fest. Thankfully, the production team leaned heavily into practical effects. The "Chatterer" looks absolutely grotesque in the best way possible, and the way the walls of the Voight mansion shift and slide like the puzzle box itself is a triumph of production design. It feels tactile. When the chains fly, you can almost smell the rusted metal.

However, the film isn't without its "streaming era" baggage. Clocking in at 121 minutes, it definitely feels its length. There’s a middle act that drags as the characters wander through the massive mansion of a vanished billionaire (played by a wonderfully creepy Goran Višnjić), and some of the supporting cast, like Adam Faison and Aoife Hinds, aren't given much to do besides look terrified and wait for their turn with the hooks.

It’s also interesting to see how this film navigates the "IP" landscape. It doesn't rely on cheap nostalgia or "member-berries." There are no cameos from the original cast, and it doesn't try to remake the first film beat-for-beat. It’s a reimagining that respects the source material while trying to say something new about the cost of desire. In an era where most reboots feel like cynical cash-grabs, this movie actually feels like it was made by people who stayed up late reading Barker’s prose and having the right kind of nightmares.

This isn't just a "good for a sequel" movie; it’s a genuinely strong horror film that stands on its own. While it might be a bit too long for some, the visual craftsmanship and Jamie Clayton’s haunting performance make it a mandatory watch for anyone who likes their horror with a bit of "exquisite" pain. It successfully rescues a legendary franchise from the bargain bin and reminds us why we were afraid of the box in the first place.