Resident Evil: Rejoice! Evil is Fun Again
By Thom Ernst
Rating: A-
What makes director-screenwriter Zach Cregger’s Resident Evil reboot such a joy to watch is, well, that it’s a joy to watch.
That might not be the kind of praise you look for in a franchise that survived on jump scares and gruesome deaths. And yet, here we are. A series that seemed to exist largely to boost video-game sales and keep Milla Jovovich in army-issued tank tops has somehow become fun again.
Cregger doesn’t just reboot Resident Evil. He revives it.
Austin Abrams on the run in Resident Evil
But I get it; “Joy” is a vague word, particularly in reference to a series whose DNA contains very little of it. So, let’s break it down.
First, there’s Austin Abrams as Bryan, a decent enough delivery guy who is having the worst night of his life. Abrams, who played James, the town vagrant drug addict, in Cregger’s Weapons, has so much natural charisma that we’re on Bryan’s side before he’s even properly introduced.
The camera follows him from behind as he tries, unsuccessfully, to avoid a disagreement with his girlfriend on the phone. It’s an ordinary moment, which is precisely the point. Immediately we can recognize Bryan as a serial people pleaser. Bryan is a guy who wandered into a horror movie rather than a horror-movie protagonist who came dressed up as a delivery guy.
Abrams carries the film with remarkable ease. Bryan has what can reasonably be called ‘sidekick energy’: he’s the supporting character who has somehow been handed the lead. He mutters to himself, doesn’t always finish a sentence, reacts to the increasingly insane circumstances with more bewilderment than heroism and never crosses the line from hapless everyman to action hero.
He’s in over his head, and, unlike most movie heroes, he knows it.
That makes Bryan funny, but Abrams doesn’t play him for laughs so much as allows the comedy to arrive organically out of his perfectly rational reactions to an increasingly irrational situation.
Bryan’s job is to deliver an organ to a remote hospital in Raccoon City. Raccoon City is not exactly a must-see tourist destination. And Bryan is about to discover that it’s also the world’s most dangerous address.
His attempt to make the delivery is interrupted by a parade of monsters, who seem to have a particular interest in him. Bryan’s frequent refrain “Fucking Monsters” could well join the ranks of John McClane’s “Yippee Ka Yay, Mother Fucker,” as a quotable catch phrase.
Much of Abrams’ success comes from Cregger’s writing, shared with screenwriter Shay Hatten (John Wicks 3 and 4). The dialogue doesn’t constantly announce itself as dialogue. It sits comfortably inside the action, allowing exposition to sneak into the movie without stopping it dead in its tracks. And, yes, there is exposition. This is Resident Evil. Somebody has to explain what the hell is going on.
But Cregger understands that exposition becomes annoying when characters sound as though they’ve written in to explain the movie to us. Not so in Resident Evil where the information is naturally folded into character and situation. The result is a movie that answers a lot without feeling cluttered.
Then there are the cameos, another source of pleasure. Paul Walter Hauser as Paul provides some exposition, but Hauser plays the character rather than the information he’s been assigned to deliver. Kali Reis, meanwhile, as Maxine, a no-bullshit sharpshooter, holds fast to the unflappable role that was once Milla Jovovich's place in the franchise. Zach Cherry’s Carl could easily have become one of those quirky horror-movie cliches that beg to be sacrificed before the credits run. Instead, Cherry finds the humour and humanity in Carl, without ever playing to type.
It’s something of a paradox, but for a film that doesn’t have a lot of restraint, it’s the restraint that makes the film work. Cregger isn’t making a parody of Resident Evil, but neither is he paying tribute. He’s made a film that understands how inherently ridiculous making a film based on a video game can be. That’s not disrespect; it’s simply acknowledging the premise and then making it better than it should be.
Perhaps the biggest surprise is the film’s comic tone. The earlier movies often treated their absurdity with the grim determination of people who had been specifically instructed not to laugh. Cregger lets the characters acknowledge the lunacy without breaking the horror. The jokes don’t cancel the scares; they make the scares more effective because the movie isn’t afraid to be entertaining.
And there are still plenty of monsters. They startle, shock, maim and kill with the enthusiasm you’d expect from Resident Evil. The violence can be nasty, some deaths can be tragic, but it can also be funny, which is a difficult balancing act. Cregger manages it because he never seems embarrassed by either side of the equation. This is a horror movie. It’s also a good time.
Resident Evil is a welcome reminder that a franchise, even one that has exhausted its welcome, doesn’t necessarily have to be reinvented to feel fresh. Sometimes it just needs somebody to remember why people liked it in the first place.
Resident Evil is directed by Zach Cregger and stars Austin Abrams, Paul Walter Hauser, Kali Reis, and Zach Cherry. Resident Evil is currently playing in select theatres.