For more than four decades, the Evil Dead franchise has survived by refusing to stand still. Every new filmmaker handed the Book of the Dead has found a different way to unleash hell, from Sam Raimi’s manic inventiveness to Fede Álvarez’s unrelenting brutality and Lee Cronin’s apartment-block nightmare. With Evil Dead Burn, French filmmaker Sébastien Vaniček doesn’t reinvent the Necronomicon so much as feed it fresh fuel. The result is a gloriously nasty entry that embraces the franchise’s practical, mean-spirited excesses while wrapping them around an intimate story of grief and family dysfunction.
After the death of her abusive husband Will (George Pullar), Alice (Souheila Yacoub) reluctantly joins her late husband’s family at their secluded home, hoping to navigate the uncomfortable aftermath of loss. Instead, she finds herself trapped with in-laws she barely knows, old resentments bubbling to the surface and, naturally, an ancient evil waiting to turn emotional wounds into literal bloodshed. Before long, Deadites begin claiming family members one by one, transforming an awkward family gathering into an increasingly deranged fight for survival.
Vaniček wisely spends more time than expected establishing these fractured relationships before the blood starts flowing. The opening stretch is deliberately slower than many franchise fans might anticipate, leaning into simmering family tensions rather than immediate carnage. While it occasionally threatens to stall the momentum, the investment pays dividends once the inevitable possession begins. Because these characters are allowed to exist as damaged people first, their increasingly horrific fates carry more emotional weight than the average horror body count.
Yacoub proves an immediately compelling protagonist. Alice isn’t written as a conventional horror heroine, but as someone already trapped by grief and emotional exhaustion before demons enter the equation. Yacoub grounds the increasingly outrageous violence with genuine vulnerability, making Alice’s gradual shift from passive outsider to determined survivor feel earned rather than obligatory.
Hunter Doohan and Luciane Buchanan also make strong impressions as Joseph and Thya, Will’s younger brother and his girlfriend, respectively, who are caught in the escalating nightmare. Buchanan, in particular, bears the brunt of some of the film’s most punishing sequences with remarkable physical commitment. The supporting ensemble, including Tandi Wright (as Will and Joseph’s sharp-edged and emotionally contained mother), Erroll Shand (as her unstable husband, Edgar) and Maude Davey (as the family’s unruly matriarch), fully embrace the series’ tradition of turning ordinary family dysfunction into grotesque supernatural spectacle.
When Evil Dead Burn finally finds its rhythm, it becomes exactly the kind of gleefully sadistic experience fans are hoping for. A standout attack involving Thya, Joseph and Edgar marks the moment Vaniček truly unleashes the film, delivering a relentless sequence that is equal parts exhilarating and deeply uncomfortable. It’s staged with such escalating brutality that it almost feels impossible to look away, lighting the fuse for an extended third act that rarely allows the audience to catch its breath.
From that point forward, the film embraces chaos with admirable commitment. No one feels protected by plot armour, and Vaniček makes a point of ensuring the violence remains indiscriminate. Age, gender and even species offer no immunity once the Deadites take hold, restoring an unpredictability that has become increasingly rare in studio horror. Every encounter carries genuine tension because the film repeatedly demonstrates its willingness to cross lines many mainstream horror films would avoid.
Visually, Evil Dead Burn is among the franchise’s strongest entries. Philip Lozano‘s constantly moving handheld cinematography creates an immediacy that keeps viewers trapped alongside the characters, while Vaniček stages several wonderfully kinetic tracking shots that recall Raimi’s signature visual playfulness without simply imitating it. The practical effects work remains the franchise’s greatest weapon, with prosthetics, makeup and gallons of practical blood ensuring every gruesome transformation feels tactile and revolting. Fire naturally becomes a recurring visual motif, but it’s the commitment to real-world effects over digital spectacle that gives the carnage genuine impact.
The film also retains the darkly comic streak that has always separated Evil Dead from more self-serious possession stories. The humour isn’t as overtly slapstick as Raimi’s originals, but it emerges through the sheer outrageousness of the violence and the increasingly impossible situations the characters find themselves enduring. Vaniček clearly understands that the franchise works best when audiences are simultaneously wincing and laughing.
If Evil Dead Burn falls short of greatness, it’s because it ultimately follows a fairly familiar trajectory once the mayhem begins. Despite its emotional foundation, it rarely pushes the mythology into genuinely surprising territory, instead relying on expertly executed variations of familiar franchise beats. Some viewers may also find the deliberate first act asks for more patience than the eventual payoff fully justifies.
Still, when the payoff arrives, it’s difficult to complain. Vaniček delivers exactly what his title promises: a film that burns hot, embraces practical filmmaking with infectious enthusiasm and never apologises for how gleefully unpleasant it becomes. It may not radically reshape the Evil Dead mythology, but it honours its legacy by understanding that the franchise has always thrived on bold directors finding new ways to make audiences squirm.
Gloriously mean-spirited, relentlessly violent and packed with inventive set pieces, Evil Dead Burn proves there’s still plenty of life left in cinema’s most cursed book. Just don’t be too quick to leave once the credits begin rolling.
THREE AND A HALF STARS (OUT OF FIVE)
Evil Dead Burn is now screening in Australian theatres, before opening in the United States on July 10th, 2026.
