Resident Evil review: The Boy Who Cried Wolfenstein
Video games are designed to be played. Movies are meant to be watched. This distinction has thwarted many filmmakers who have attempted to translate the button-mashing activity of the console to the seat-reclining passivity of the multiplex. So when I say that Resident Evil, Zach Cregger’s new adaptation of the 30-year-old Capcom franchise, is probably the best video game-inspired picture I’ve ever seen, I’m not bestowing an especially high compliment (nor am I working with a significant sample size). As with many members of its subgenre, it’s deficient on (har har) multiple levels: organizationally repetitive, emotionally thin, and thematically vacant. But it does thread a delicate needle, paying tribute to the aesthetics of its source medium while also operating like a bona fide movie.
This is a matter of both structure and style. The plot of Resident Evil, which Cregger wrote with Shay Hatten (John Wick: Chapter 4), functions as a straightforward mission narrative. On a dark and snowy night, Bryan—a slow-witted courier played with dim-bulb charm by Austin Abrams—is tasked with delivering a precious medical artifact to the fictional metropolis of Raccoon City. His seemingly simple quest quickly escalates into a series of fraught, life-or-death predicaments as he arms himself with various weapons and is menaced by supernatural foes. These challenges, which broadly present an increasing degree of difficulty and culminate in a final confrontation (though the identity of the big boss may surprise you), tend to be logistical: climb a ladder, unlock a door, scale a building. You can practically see the life meter in the top corner of the screen. Read More
