Z-O-M-B-I-E-S 3

If you told a screenwriter in the mid-century that by 2022, one of the most successful teen franchises would center on a zombie football player, a werewolf pack, and a trio of telepathic aliens competing in an international cheer-off, they’d probably assume the studio’s water supply had been compromised. Yet, here we are with Z-O-M-B-I-E-S 3, a film that leans so hard into its own absurdity that I found myself genuinely admiring its commitment to the bit. I watched this while eating a bag of slightly stale pretzel sticks I found in the back of my pantry, and honestly, the saltiness was the perfect offset to the neon-sugar rush of the opening musical number.

The Kitchen Sink School of Filmmaking

When the first Z-O-M-B-I-E-S dropped in 2018, it was a relatively straightforward metaphor for integration, using the undead as a stand-in for marginalized communities. By the time we hit this third installment, the metaphor has expanded to include werewolves and now, extraterrestrials. It’s the "everything and the kitchen sink" approach to world-building, and in the context of the current streaming era, it makes perfect sense. Disney+ needs "stickiness," and what’s stickier than a franchise that refuses to leave any subgenre behind?

The plot picks up with Milo Manheim as Zed, aiming for an athletic scholarship to become the first zombie in college. Meanwhile, Meg Donnelly as Addison is still trying to figure out her own "monster" origin story. Their chemistry remains the heartbeat of the series; they play these roles with a sincere, wide-eyed earnestness that prevents the whole thing from collapsing under the weight of its own glitter. When the aliens arrive—led by A-Lan, A-Li, and A-Spen—the movie shifts into a sci-fi gear that feels like the cinematic equivalent of drinking a melted Slurpee. It’s bright, it’s loud, and it’s very, very blue.

Blue Hair, Don’t Care

The humor in Z-O-M-B-I-E-S 3 relies heavily on the "fish out of water" trope, which is well-worn territory but elevated here by the comedic timing of the ensemble. The standout, as always, is Trevor Tordjman as Bucky. Bucky is a character who could have been a one-note villain, but Tordjman plays him with such a magnificent, delusional ego that he steals every scene he’s in. His transition into a sort of self-appointed "protector of Seabrook" is comedy gold, mostly because he’s so clearly unqualified for the job.

What’s interesting about this entry, compared to its predecessors, is how it handles the "othering" theme. In a post-2020 landscape, the film’s message about radical inclusion feels less like a suggestion and more like an urgent plea, even if it is delivered through aggressively choreographed jazz hands. The aliens represent a group that values logic over emotion, providing a decent foil to the high-octane feelings of the Seabrook locals. Does it get a bit heavy-handed? Sure. But it’s a Disney Channel Original Movie; if you’re looking for subtle social commentary, you’ve parked your Mothership in the wrong zip code.

The $36 Million Glow-Up

You can see the $36,000,000 budget on the screen. Unlike the first film, which occasionally felt like it was shot in a repurposed high school hallway, this finale utilizes some impressive (for TV) virtual production. The alien Mothership is a sleek, minimalist contrast to the vibrant, chaotic aesthetic of Seabrook. The choreography is tighter, too. Chandler Kinney as Willa and the rest of the werewolf pack bring a physical energy that grounds the more floaty, ethereal movements of the aliens.

The music remains a highlight, though I’ll admit "Alien Invasion" doesn't quite have the earworm potential of "Bamm" from the original. However, the production value of the musical numbers shows how much the Disney+ transition has impacted these projects. We’re no longer in the era of flat lighting and static cameras; director Paul Hoen (a DCOM veteran who also gave us Camp Rock 2 and Luck of the Irish) knows exactly how to move the lens to make a cheer-off feel like an Avengers-level threat.

There is something undeniably charming about a movie that treats "Zombies going to college" with the same narrative gravity as a potential alien apocalypse. It’s a film that knows exactly who its audience is—Gen Z kids who grew up with these characters and expect a certain level of visual spectacle and inclusive messaging. It doesn’t try to be an "instant classic" in the vein of High School Musical, but it succeeds as a colorful, energetic capstone to a trilogy that has always been more ambitious than its title suggests.

Ultimately, Z-O-M-B-I-E-S 3 is a victory for the "more is more" philosophy of contemporary franchise filmmaking. It’s campy, the CGI on the alien spaceship is surprisingly decent, and the performances are fueled by an infectious energy that’s hard to hate. While it might be a bit too overstuffed for those outside the target demographic, I found it to be a perfectly pleasant way to spend 88 minutes—even if it did make me want to go out and buy some neon-blue hair dye.