The imminent release of Zach Cregger’s film resident Evil means one very important thing: an end to pre-release vitriol. No, there’s no Leon Kennedy, Mr. X or Lickers, but that doesn’t mean diddlysquat. The essence of Capcom’s survival horror franchise is alive, but Cregger’s snapshot of horror comedy, centered around the Raccoon City outbreak, creates its own glorious nightmares. Perhaps the humor is too prevalent, even after Cregger allegedly cut many jokes in an editing pass; hardly a destructive quality. resident Evil is a thrill-seeker who eschews canon for his own good, giving Cregger total control of a supercharged hellscape that never ceases to terrify.
Austin Abrams was born to play Everyman Bryan, a medical courier on an urgent delivery to Raccoon City General Hospital. He is there to earn double wages, but he is unaware of the dangers that await him. Above all, there’s an outbreak in Raccoon City that’s turning everyone into weird tentacle monsters, but Bryan doesn’t want to stop. His package is of great importance, and he is the only remaining soul capable of completing the transfer. Too bad he’s not ready for the body horror atrocities that are about to happen to him.
Cregger’s diabolical imagination runs rampant in resident Evil (co-written by Shay Hatten). Tentacles are no stranger to games – Las Plagas or plant monsters – but they function here in a more disgusting way. Bryan is chased by this rat king of zombie corpses who looks like Katamari meeting Clive Barker (the remains of the infected gather into a growing mass of appendages). This alone shows Cregger’s precise understanding of resident Evilwhile Bryan must run from a heat-seeking boss he can’t shake until an inevitable confrontation. Cregger’s adoration for Capcom’s series shines through the situational panic, distorted camera angles, and artwork. Yet its film still offers a new twist on familiarity without slavishly replicating what the games have already accomplished quite cinematically.
Nostalgia is not a prison resident Evil. Bryan stumbles upon the waking hours of a biochemical apocalypse we cannot predict. Overt Easter eggs are fleeting nods: a typewriter, shotgun shells in a green box, an herb, an indestructible padlock with a distinct symbol. More impressively, Cregger translates the resident Evil gaming experience.
Over-the-shoulder camera perspectives replicate character movements from a third-person perspective, while tactical cameras can be attached to long-barreled weapons, recreating the intimate fear of peering into dimly lit corners for another grotesque monster. Cregger understands the suspense of getting through resident Evil games like undead minefields, while also honoring increasing escalation. First a zombie chases you, then a mutant doggie, then several zombies, then hordes of contaminated vermin, acid vomit or insectoid babies; the list is long.
As Bryan ventures out, he is tortured by guilt over his dismissive response to discovering his girlfriend is pregnant. While resident Evil works as though Bryan is sprinting down a buffet line, catching every Umbrella-raised bad guy along the way, at the core is his fear of being a father and how that motivates his will to live. The nervous idiot who wants to start a family but was too scared to tell his partner. It’s a lighter touch of a thematic pilot – what’s inside its zipped pouch takes priority – but adds to Bryan’s urgency, which Abrams sells tenfold.
Abrams is too good in the role, whether fumbling with ammo, cursing under his breath, or stewing in desperate exhaustion as Bryan’s ineptitude and stupidity bring out the worst in Raccoon City.
But the film is not flawless. Cregger’s sense of humor can be a distraction, siphoning fear from an otherwise distressing sequence (Paul Walter Hauser, for example, as comic relief). Or there’s the extended opening farms segment, where the first half hour takes place in the heat of the moment. Next comes a third act that solidifies the barrier between Cregger’s worldview and what we know. resident Evilpeaking then abruptly closing. For all the praise I’ve given, there’s an unevenness in the execution that has nothing to do with Cregger’s stubborn refusal to adapt what we know. It’s more about the plug-and-play nature of the scenes acting as levels and how their attachment drifts away towards the finale.
Always, resident Evil packs a megaton punch when it comes to delivering rancid visuals that match any game’s campaign. Pirates of the Caribbean Cinematographer Dariusz Wolski nimbly captures the vast chaos that envelops Bryan, switching seamlessly between camera modes in what is a beautifully filmed production. Clarity is important, as Legacy Effects and SFX legend Shane Mahan struggles to bring 2,000-pound monster puppets to life. No creature loses its appearance, even when digital enhancements are necessary. The explosions of glistening blood are plentiful and zany in maternity wards covered in blood-red bags or when the aforementioned Rat King assembles, on par with the macabre, grotesque, and insane T-virus mutations that would make William Birkin blush.
The intensity of the broken accelerator resident Evil makes it an easy candidate for most entertaining horror film of 2026. It’s further proof that you should never doubt Zach Cregger; even in franchise mode, he’s still undeniably himself. This is the resident Evil you never knew you wanted it because Cregger hadn’t had the chance until now. Hopefully more video game adaptations will follow and allow their filmmakers to expand on a property instead of another soulless copy-and-paste job.
No Chris Redfield, Jill Valentine or Barry Burton? No problem.
Music from the film: 4/5
