Evil Dead Rise

The sound of a cheese grater against skin is a noise I never thought I’d have to process while trying to enjoy a movie, but here we are. Most modern horror franchises eventually reach a point where they either become a parody of themselves or get so bogged down in "lore" that they forget to actually be scary. Evil Dead Rise avoids both traps by doing something remarkably simple: it takes the most uncomfortable, mean-spirited demonic possession in cinema history and traps it in a crumbling Los Angeles apartment building.

I watched this while eating a bowl of cold spaghetti, which was a catastrophic tactical error given what happens to a certain character’s throat early in the second act. But even through the mild nausea, it was clear that director Lee Cronin wasn't interested in just paying homage to Sam Raimi’s original trilogy. He wanted to see if he could make us genuinely hate the color red.

From the Woods to the Concrete Jungle

For decades, the Evil Dead identity was tied to a specific cabin in the specific woods. Breaking that tradition was a gamble, but moving the action to a condemned high-rise serves a brilliant purpose. It transforms the sprawling urban landscape into a claustrophobic vertical tomb. When an earthquake unearths a hidden vault (and the inevitable Book of the Dead), the "Deadite" infection doesn't just feel like a haunting; it feels like a plague.

The film follows Beth (Lily Sullivan), a guitar technician who visits her sister, Ellie (Alyssa Sutherland), and Ellie's three kids. The timing is terrible—Beth is dealing with an unplanned pregnancy, and Ellie has just been dumped by her husband. It’s a grounded, kitchen-sink drama that Lee Cronin spends twenty minutes carefully building just so he can tear it to shreds. By the time the first person gets possessed, you actually care about these people, which makes the subsequent ninety minutes of carnage feel remarkably cruel.

The Mother of All Nightmares

While Lily Sullivan is a fantastic, grounded lead, this movie belongs entirely to Alyssa Sutherland. Her performance as the possessed Ellie is the kind of work that would win awards if the Oscars weren't terrified of people covered in projectile vomit. She uses her height and angular features to create a silhouette that is genuinely unnatural. Sutherland doesn't just play a monster; she plays a mother who has been hollowed out and replaced by something that turns maternal instinct into a weapon of mass destruction.

One of the smartest moves this film makes is how it engages with current-era horror expectations. In an age where "elevated horror" often prioritizes metaphor over scares, Evil Dead Rise is refreshingly blunt. It uses the themes of motherhood and abandonment, sure, but it never lets the subtext get in the way of a good chainsaw fight. It’s a "legacy sequel" that doesn't rely on Bruce Campbell showing up to save the day (though his voice makes a very brief, very cool cameo on a vintage recording). Instead, it proves the franchise can survive—and thrive—by simply being the meanest movie New Line has released in a decade.

A Theatrical Miracle

There is a fascinating bit of industry context behind this film’s success. It was originally greenlit as a "streaming exclusive" for HBO Max. However, after test screenings resulted in audiences basically screaming at the screen in delighted terror, the studio pivoted to a full theatrical release. It was a savvy move. In the post-pandemic landscape, horror has become one of the few genres that can still guarantee a massive box office return on a modest budget. Evil Dead Rise turned its $15 million cost into nearly $150 million worldwide, proving that audiences are starving for practical effects and genuine tension.

Speaking of effects, the production reportedly used over 6,500 liters of fake blood. That’s not a typo. By the final act, the screen is practically dripping. The "Marauder"—a multi-limbed monstrosity that appears in the climax—is a triumph of practical rigging and stunt work that feels like a throwback to the 1980s while utilizing modern stability and lighting. It’s "gross-out" cinema at its most polished, and it manages to feel contemporary without relying on the seamless (and often soul-less) CGI that plagues so many other modern blockbusters.

Evil Dead Rise is a masterclass in how to revive a dormant IP without sacrificing the grit that made it famous in the first place. It is relentless, beautifully shot by Dave Garbett, and features a score by Stephen McKeon that sounds like a panic attack set to music. It doesn't quite reach the slapstick-horror perfection of Evil Dead 2, but it stands tall as the most intense entry in the series. If you have a strong stomach and an appreciation for the darker side of family reunions, this is the best Friday night you’ll have all year. Just maybe skip the spaghetti.