An Until Dawn video game adaptation seemed… misguided upon announcement. Supermassive Games’ choose your own spooky adventure was, itself, a 10-hour cinematic experience. Simply replicating the events on Blackwood Mountain would be more of a remake versus an adaptation, which David F. Sandberg’s Until Dawn film is not. Writers Gary Dauberman and ex-G4 talent Blair Butler abandon the snowy lodge and butterfly effects for something completely different, begging the question, why is it even titled Until Dawn (*cough* IP familiarity *cough*)? It’s a strange experiment in video game adaptations that feels like it bizarrely leaves the source material behind.
The idea of missing siblings is still a motivating factor. Clover (Ella Rubin) is searching for her sister Melanie (Maia Mitchell), accompanied by a handful of tagalong friends. They’re on a morbid road trip tracking Melanie’s last known whereabouts, ending in an off-the-beaten-path old mining town. Peter Stormare portrays a gas station attendant who directs them toward a blue dollhouse of a welcome center, which tips off anyone who’s played Until Dawn. Clover’s crew investigates the building and finds an hourglass adorned by skulls; it flips, and they become caught in a terrifying time loop that resets every night if they don’t survive until, you guessed it, dawn.
There’s your hook. Deaths no longer ripple and alter the narrative course—it’s a reset point. That’s the opposite of Supermassive’s gameplay mechanics, but kinda-sorta fun in cinematic format. This allows different breeds of killers to appear, from a slasher villain inspired by Josh Washington’s in-game psycho to witches, even deadly environmental elements. But it never feels like Until Dawn, more Cabin in the Woods, an experimental commentary on horror cinema that toys around with doomed characters learning from common genre tropes like a meta horror gameshow. Dauberman and Butler choose to tell their story based on title alone, while game callbacks feel shoehorned into place.
Until Dawn is an odd alchemy of “original” ideas (done better elsewhere) and fanservice as blatant as a neon sign on the Las Vegas strip. Sandberg’s ability to deliver something “new” in the Until Dawn universe is the film’s worst attribute, which becomes a distraction. Clover and her four chums drive through a rainstorm that unnaturally breaks into a perfect circle around the house, cluing into experimentation immediately, and it’s not very game-like. But then patient folders with video game character pictures are zoomed on, and Peter Stormare’s inclusion isn’t hidden well, yet it’s all messily explained. Dauberman and Butler get stuck between underexplaining and overdosing, failing to marry a newfound backstory about a haunted mining disaster with Dr. Alan J. Hill’s therapeutic intentions.
Yet, as Friday night horrortainment? Sandberg has a blast with goregasmic set pieces that relish the film’s “R” rating. Until Dawn is never as frightening as Lights Out and Annabelle: Creation, but there’s an undeniable fun factor as brutal kill sequences hit the screen with no bracing for impact. A pickaxe through the torso is child’s play compared to skewered eye trauma, body bisection, and an explosive bathroom massacre that is too good to spoil—but just know I couldn’t stop laugh-howling throughout the entire sequence. There’s a sleepover rental vibe to Until Dawn as a dopey carnival attraction of slaughters because you’re hardly here for the story developments, more the kill shots, and comedic appeal of fatalities on repeat.
Where Cabin in the Woods is a wit-masterful modern horror satire that laughs at conventionality, Until Dawn is as generic as a Playmobile playset. Dialogue is teen-horror cringy as one-liners fall flat onto the floor, which is a shame since indie horror mavericks Larry Fessenden and Graham Reznick fantastically nailed the game’s daunting script—and weren’t asked back. Instead, Dauberman and Butler feel beholden to schmaltzy clichés or dreadfully unfunny (which almost circles back to comical). The younger cast feels rigid in their archetypes outside of 3-month-old boyfriend Abel (Belmont Cameli), who plays hot and sarcastic deadpan enough to meet the lesser-quality lines.
It’s a messy endeavor, as Sandberg solves for his film’s ultimate problem: death doesn’t mean a whole lot. Ji-young Yoo’s spiritualist character Megan squeezes a breathing quicktime event nod in but her abilities come and go to fit scenes. Michael Cimino’s ex-boyfriend Max is there to win Clover’s heart back because what endless time loop of doom isn’t complete without white knights? But the overall inclusion of staple in-game signatures is a rougher sell, not to mention the film’s own ineptness. For every exciting, unexpected SFX bombshell, there’s a found footage montage that covers bloodthirsty action with digital glitch overlays that steal from suspense. Choice after choice is a bit of a head-scratcher until everything wraps like an anticlimactic breeze.
So, Until Dawn is a crummy Until Dawn movie but a marginally enjoyable riff on metatextual horror goof-offs. Sandberg doesn’t face issues regarding the film’s more ferocious monster attacks or splatter scenes because that’s where he’s best. What suffers is the lackluster attempt to cram Until Dawn nuggets into a decidedly anti-Until Dawn package. Storytelling barters in low-hanging fruit and hurried exposition, coming together like multiple ghost stories accidentally stitched together. Edgy or inventive, Until Dawn is not—but it does combust some bodies, which is more than other mediocre horror novelties can brag about.
Movie Score: 3/5