Until Dawn, 2025.
Directed by David F. Sandberg.
Starring Ella Rubin, Michael Cimino, Odessa A’zion, Ji-young Yoo, Belmont Cameli, Maia Mitchell, Peter Stormare, Willem van der Vegt, and Mariann Hermányi.
SYNOPSIS:
A group of friends trapped in a time loop, where mysterious foes are chasing and killing them in gruesome ways, must survive until dawn to escape it.
Not to dwell on the dreaded video game adaptation curse, but the reason the majority of them aren’t successful comes down to one of two reasons: the filmmakers didn’t understand the material or it’s a property that loses its essence in translation; a game that should stay a game whether it be because it has no story to adapt or doesn’t function effectively outside that medium.
Until Dawn falls somewhere in the latter: it has a story, but it’s also a narrative-based survival horror game prompting the player with moral choices, quick-time-events, and permanent character deaths (the game supposedly has over 100 endings, with 22 critical choices combining to determine which one the player witnesses) that shape a unique experience almost every time. Its appeal doesn’t come from cramming in as many horror clichés and tropes as possible, but rather playing through them however one chooses, trying to keep all the characters alive, and arriving at an ending whilst also having a significant reason to play it again and do things differently, which doesn’t necessarily mean more successful (why not go for a disastrous run killing off everyone as quickly as you can for fun). That doesn’t sound like a concept ripe for cinematic adaptation.
To the credit of David F. Sandberg (with Blair Butler and Gary Dauberman writing the screenplay, which retains the general concept but with new characters), Until Dawn has creative means to replicate endless possibilities and scenarios. In this version, an hourglass is located inside the remote home, which is itself surrounded by a raging storm, preventing the characters from leaving. When emptied, the hourglass will allow the characters to escape. If they all die, that hourglass and, in turn, the entire scenario reset to the moment it was first turned over, with everyone alive again.
All they have to do is survive the night, which is easier said than done, given that there are masked killers, supernatural forces, and gigantic monsters roaming the surrounding woods just in case the characters do want to test their luck by driving away through the storm. There are also some other deadly surprises in store, showing off a comedic playfulness and sense of humor regarding the material. Much like Cabin in the Woods, this premise allows for a cornucopia of horror tropes, and the goal is to have fun playing into them.
Except for the curiosity about which horror subgenre the film will morph into for its next attempt at surviving the night, watching some of the most tired clichés unfold is not entirely effective here. Yes, there are some grotesque kills and cleverness to the proceedings, not to mention some relentless momentum that rarely stops to give the characters a breather, but again, the original selling point was having those tropes inside the interactivity of a video game to finally find out what you would do in such a situation. Simultaneously, it’s also refreshing having a video game adaptation that treats a movie like, well, a video game, bringing characters back from the beyond and forcing them to approach the situation differently. This also suggests the filmmakers are aware of why the game developed a following. It’s a mixed bag of results, with a nifty hook, love for the genre, and some gnarly deaths tipping the scales in the film’s favor.
As for the story itself, it follows Ella Rubin’s Clover as she grieves the loss of her mother and the one-year disappearance of her sister, Melanie (Maia Mitchell). With a recent history of depression and attempted suicides, her friends decide to bring Clover back to that remote valley where Melanie disappeared, hoping to find some closure. Instead, they come across a creepy gas station, where Peter Stormare plays the owner (who also appeared in the game as a psychologist asking the player questions about fear during chapter interludes) and directs them to the previously mentioned mysterious home, which houses all sorts of horrors.
There also isn’t much to say about these characters, who are primarily defined by one characteristic: Megan (Ji-young Yoo) believes she can communicate with spirits, Abel (Belmont Cameli) is the ex-boyfriend who still has feelings for Clover. Meanwhile, Clover’s best friend Nina (Odessa A’zion) has a new partner every couple of months, currently with Max (Michael Cimino), who turns out to be the coward of the group and would rather not start the night over with everyone still alive if he is still kicking and has a chance to survive. This also leads to some amusing moments, as characters kill each other, either to restart the hourglass or because they are getting on one another’s nerves.
Until Dawn also drives home a message about the importance of sticking together, whether it be supporting a grieving friend or a never-ending nightmare of splatterhouse gore. The characters themselves are thin, but the sentiments about friendship are admirably sincere. It’s the rest of the story that feels either underdeveloped or annoyingly blunt (we don’t need a character explaining the specific ways each death and violent presence is a psychological representation of their fears, as if this were Silent Hill for toddlers). It’s not entirely successful translating the game’s concept to a new medium, but the energetic, rollercoaster-paced, affectionately kitchen-sink approach to horror, alongside a live, die, repeat hook, allows the genre tropes to mostly work for Until Dawn, not against it.
Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★ ★
Robert Kojder is a member of the Chicago Film Critics Association, Critics Choice Association, and Online Film Critics Society. He is also the Flickering Myth Reviews Editor. Check here for new reviews and follow my BlueSky or Letterboxd
