Evil Dead Burn
by Hope Madden
Nasty. Relentless. Grim.
Evil Dead Burn saw me coming!
Say what you will about the Deadite franchise, but you’re not likely to use the adjective “boring.” One of the reasons it’s remained relevant over six films and a 3-season TV show is that the team behind the bloodshed is not afraid to switch things up. Sam Raimi’s original, Stooges-inspired trilogy and the Bruce Campbell starring TV series were more grossout comedies than anything.
But the films took on a darker tone with Fede Alvarez’s 2013 reboot, a style that continued with Lee Cronin’s 2023 episode, Evil Dead Rise. For their latest installment, Executive Producer Raimi tapped French filmmaker Sébastian Vanicek.
Vanicek’s 2023 arachnid horror Infested was an impressive exercise in claustrophobic terror. He brings with him the flavor of French Extreme Cinema, so vital and gruesome in the early 2000s. What he abandons is the underlying, though ever darkening, humor that has always marked the franchise.
That or it just doesn’t work this time.
In what is essentially a metaphor for abusive relationships, Evil Dead Burn follows one family in the wake of their eldest son’s ghastly vehicular death. Naturally, the family gathers to mourn in their dead grandpa’s old farmhouse. He used to travel the world collecting creepy stories, kept a journal scribbled with incantations. You know the drill. It stars with “kanda” and ends with serious carnage.
Vanicek writes the script with Raimi and Florent Bernard, who co-wrote Infested. The story is tight enough, and solid performances quickly carve out recognizable characters who still manage not to feel flat or cliché.
Souheila Yacoub is Alice, the deceased’s widow and our central figure. Her tortured past sometimes threatens to weigh down the mayhem, but it never drags anything to a stop. How could it? Vanicek opens hard and never slows down.
The action choreography is fascinating. Cinematographer Philip Lozano (MadS, Cobweb) takes inspiration from the Raimi classic, his camera snaking and stalking its way through scenes. But this camera rolls, dips, and flies, all of it in service of the slaughter.
The film’s humorlessness and its somewhat tortured (ha!) central metaphor keep it from feeling truly at home in the franchise. But for an hour and fifty minutes of unforgiving butchery, you could do worse.
