When Infection Becomes a Franchise
Ah, sequels — the gift that keeps on giving… and in this case, festering, oozing, and refusing to use protection. Contracted: Phase II picks up right where the 2013 original left off, which is to say: in a puddle of pus, confusion, and poor life choices. Directed by Josh Forbes and written by Craig Walendziak, the film attempts to expand on the first movie’s body-horror-meets-sexual-paranoia premise, only to mutate into something far less contagious: a slog.
If Contracted was a queasy metaphor for unsafe sex, Phase II is what happens when you ignore all the warning signs, refuse antibiotics, and decide to make a sequel anyway.
The Infection Spreads (Unfortunately, So Does the Script)
The story follows Riley (Matt Mercer), the poor sap who made the mistake of sleeping with Samantha, the woman from the first film who turned into a decaying zombie courtesy of an STD from hell. Now Riley’s got the same symptoms—lesions, blood vomit, and a social life deader than the plot—and he’s determined to find the man responsible, the mysterious BJ (Morgan Peter Brown).
You might think this setup could lead to a tense manhunt or a deeper exploration of the virus. Instead, we get a feverish mess of half-baked ideas, awkward flashbacks, and characters who make decisions that would embarrass the cast of The Walking Dead.
Riley teams up with Detective Crystal Young (Marianna Palka), who has the kind of cop energy that says, “I’ve seen things, but not this much body fluid.” Together, they stumble through a trail of clues that go nowhere, like an episode of CSI: Gross Anatomy.
Meanwhile, BJ—the Patient Zero of bad taste—wanders around infecting people like a horny apocalypse Santa, leaving behind a trail of goo, regret, and victims who look like they’ve lost a fight with a wood chipper.
Riley: The Hero Nobody Asked For
Matt Mercer tries his best to bring pathos to Riley, but it’s hard to care about a guy whose defining traits are “sweaty” and “contagious.” His main strategy for survival is to stare at his wounds in the mirror like he’s auditioning for a Neutrogena commercial gone wrong.
Riley’s character arc—if we can call it that—is basically a slow transformation from “concerned citizen” to “leaky corpse.” Watching him deteriorate is like watching a banana rot in real time: fascinating for a few minutes, then just depressing.
Every time Riley tries to take charge of his destiny, something stupid happens. He breaks into labs, interrogates suspects, and hallucinates like a man whose only cure is a better screenplay. His relationship with Detective Young never develops past “we’re both disgusted,” which is probably the most honest human connection in the film.
BJ: Patient Zero, Plot Hole Hero
BJ (short for “Brent Jaffe,” but the name choice feels karmic) is the kind of villain who might have been compelling if the movie knew what to do with him. He’s immune to the virus, making him the Typhoid Mary of gross-out horror, but instead of building an intriguing mythology around that, the film just lets him inject people with glowing syringes and spout vague apocalypse dialogue.
He’s part sexual predator, part mad scientist, and part motivational speaker for bad decisions. Every time he opens his mouth, it sounds like a PSA written by Satan’s HR department: “I’m not evil. I’m just helping humanity evolve.”
Morgan Peter Brown gives BJ a greasy charisma, but he’s stuck in a script that keeps confusing menace with monologue. The result? A villain who feels less like an existential threat and more like the world’s worst Tinder date.
The Body Horror: More Ick, Less Impact
The first Contracted film was small, sick, and unsettling—a grim little reminder that the human body can betray you in ways you really don’t want to think about. Phase II tries to up the ante, but all it really does is add more blood and fewer brains.
The effects are suitably gross: skin sloughing off, teeth falling out, and veins popping like bubble wrap. But the shock wears off quickly. It’s hard to be disturbed when the movie treats every gruesome detail like a punchline it forgot to land.
By the time Riley’s fingernails start peeling off, you’re not recoiling in fear—you’re checking your watch. The gore feels like filler, as if the filmmakers thought, “If we keep showing fluids, maybe no one will notice the plot hemorrhaging.”
The Plot: A Contagion of Confusion
For a movie about a spreading virus, Phase II has no idea where it’s going. Is it a medical thriller? A zombie outbreak story? A morality play about sexual irresponsibility? The answer is “yes, but badly.”
Scenes jump from one location to another without logic. Characters die, reappear, and die again in ways that suggest the editor caught the infection too. Subplots—like Riley’s pregnant sister or his infected grandma—pop up just long enough to gross you out before being abandoned entirely.
And then there’s the ending, which somehow manages to make less sense than the rest of the movie combined. BJ tries to blow up a hospital to trigger a full-blown apocalypse. Riley, now half-zombie, fights him. Detective Young shows up, shoots Riley, and then… BJ lives. Again. A mysterious doctor with an “Abaddon” tattoo tells him, “Very soon, my friend.”
“Very soon” what? A cure? A sequel? A restraining order? The movie doesn’t explain, because by that point, even it doesn’t care.
The Tone: Grim, Gooey, and Accidentally Funny
It’s not that Phase II lacks ambition—it’s that it lacks restraint. The film wants to be Cronenberg meets Contagion, but it ends up as The Walking Dead: The Bodily Fluids Edition.
The pacing is erratic. One moment, you’re watching a grotesque autopsy; the next, a heartfelt conversation about family that lasts exactly ten seconds before someone pukes blood again. The dialogue swings wildly between melodrama (“We can still save them!”) and middle-school edginess (“You have no idea what it’s like to rot from the inside!”).
At times, the film accidentally veers into comedy. A scene where Riley’s grandmother starts showing symptoms could have been tragic—but instead, it plays like Weekend at Bernie’s: Viral Outbreak.
The Legacy: Phase Too Far
The biggest sin of Contracted: Phase II isn’t that it’s bad—it’s that it misunderstands what made the original disturbing. The first movie worked because it felt intimate, claustrophobic, and horribly plausible. This sequel trades subtle dread for cheap escalation, like someone remaking The Fly with a fog machine and a bad attitude.
It tries to build a universe around the infection, teasing a shadowy cult and global implications. But in doing so, it loses all its humanity. What was once a metaphor for fear and shame becomes just another zombie virus with a plot twist no one asked for.
Final Diagnosis: Terminal Case of Sequelitis
Watching Contracted: Phase II feels like catching the cinematic version of its own virus—it starts mildly unpleasant, gets progressively worse, and leaves you wondering why you didn’t use protection (in this case, by not pressing play).
It’s gross without purpose, serious without substance, and ambitious without direction. If there’s a message buried somewhere beneath the gore, it’s probably “Don’t have sex with anyone who looks like they’ve wandered out of an indie horror sequel.”
At least the movie lives up to its title—it really does feel like a “phase.” Specifically, the one where you wish it would end.
Final Score: 2/10
A festering, feverish mess of fluids, false drama, and fatal misjudgments. Think of it as a sequel that should’ve stayed buried—and burned for good measure.
