When Motherhood Meets the Necronomicon
Some horror franchises fade quietly into the night. Evil Dead kicks down the door, vomits blood on your carpet, and hands you a chainsaw. Evil Dead Rise, written and directed by Lee Cronin, is the gleefully grotesque resurrection of Sam Raimi’s twisted legacy—a film that trades the woods for a decaying Los Angeles apartment, but keeps the soul-swallowing, limb-ripping fun alive and dripping.
It’s a family drama—if your family dinners involve demonic possession, DIY exorcisms, and using a cheese grater for purposes that are decidedly not culinary. It’s also the rare horror sequel that understands what made its predecessors work: insanity with intent. This movie doesn’t just raise the dead—it raises the bar for how much gleeful carnage you can fit in 97 minutes.
The Setup: Sisterhood of the Cursed Book
Beth (Lily Sullivan) is a touring guitar technician who discovers she’s pregnant and, in true millennial fashion, decides to process that revelation by showing up unannounced at her estranged sister Ellie’s apartment. Ellie (Alyssa Sutherland), a single mom of three in a crumbling high-rise, greets her with the kind of warmth usually reserved for IRS agents.
When an earthquake conveniently opens up a demonic basement beneath their parking garage—because of course it does—the kids find one of the infamous Books of the Dead (now known as the Naturom Demonto). Naturally, they play the mysterious old vinyl they find with it, and within minutes, the Deadites are back, angrier than ever, and ready to make your nightmares look like spa days.
From that moment on, the movie is basically The Exorcist meets Die Hard, with family drama thrown in for seasoning and about 50 gallons of fake blood poured over everything.
Alyssa Sutherland: The Mommy Dearest from Hell
Sutherland’s Ellie is the heart—and splattered soul—of this film. When she becomes possessed, she doesn’t just turn evil; she turns iconic. Her transformation into the Deadite matriarch is the kind of performance that makes you want to call your mother just to apologize for being born.
She slinks, she snarls, she mocks her children with the venom of a PTA mom who’s finally snapped. Whether she’s crawling on the ceiling, chewing glass like it’s popcorn, or singing lullabies with her intestines, Sutherland brings both elegance and absolute chaos to the role.
When she coos, “Mommy’s with the maggots now,” it’s not just a line—it’s an instant horror classic.
Lily Sullivan: The Chainsaw Sister
Beth, played with grit and grit-under-the-nails realism by Lily Sullivan, becomes the film’s reluctant hero—what happens when a pregnant woman, a guitar tech, and an Ash Williams fan club merge into one person. She’s not a swaggering demon-slayer from the start; she’s messy, terrified, and human.
But watching her slowly embrace the family chainsaw mantle feels like destiny. She’s the logical evolution of the Evil Dead survivor archetype—a woman who doesn’t just fight the Deadites to live, but to prove she can protect what’s left of her family (and maybe her unborn kid).
By the time she’s covered in blood, wielding a chainsaw, and kicking her demon sister’s head into a wood chipper, you realize something: this isn’t just another gorefest. It’s a twisted story about motherhood, guilt, and the nightmare of losing control over the people—and the bodies—you love.
The Kids Are Not Alright
Let’s take a moment to appreciate the doomed offspring. Danny (Morgan Davies) is the poor soul who starts the apocalypse by opening the book—a decision that firmly cements him as the horror genre’s least helpful teenager sinceCabin in the Woods. Bridget (Gabrielle Echols) and Kassie (Nell Fisher) round out the trio, with Kassie delivering the kind of terrified-yet-resilient performance that makes you forget she’s barely tall enough to see over the counter.
These kids don’t act like dumb horror caricatures. They scream, they fight, they improvise with household weapons (that broom handle scene deserves a medal), and they feel real. Which makes watching their family implode into literal demonic carnage hit harder than any jump scare.
The Setting: Goodbye Cabin, Hello Tenement of Terror
One of the film’s smartest moves is its new setting. Gone are the trees and isolation of Raimi’s cabin. Instead, we get an urban nightmare in a condemned Los Angeles high-rise that feels like it’s already halfway possessed before the Deadites even show up.
The cracked walls, flickering lights, and endless corridors turn the building into a vertical haunted house—claustrophobic, grimy, and full of neighbors you’ll never have to worry about borrowing sugar from again. When the elevator starts filling with blood (a loving nod to The Shining), it’s both terrifying and oddly hilarious—because in Evil Dead, even physics obeys the rule of “more blood, more better.”
The Gore: Michelangelo’s Chainsaw Period
Let’s not pretend anyone watches Evil Dead for subtlety. The gore here is a work of art—operatic, gleeful, and absolutely deranged. Every kill feels handcrafted with love, like a particularly messy Valentine’s Day card from Hell.
A cheese grater becomes a weapon of legend. A tattoo gun does unspeakable things. Eyeballs are eaten, limbs are rearranged, and the blood budget alone could fund a small indie film—or a modest vampire commune.
Yet for all its excess, the violence never feels gratuitous. Cronin directs it with precision and humor, balancing the brutality with moments of absurd levity. You’ll laugh, wince, and possibly gag, sometimes all at once.
The Deadites: Sassier Than Ever
What makes Evil Dead villains stand out is that they don’t just kill—they roast you while doing it. These Deadites aren’t silent specters or moaning zombies; they’re malicious, chatty little theater kids from Hell.
They insult your life choices, they mock your trauma, and they have one-liners that make Freddy Krueger look like a motivational speaker. Watching Ellie taunt her family, switching from demonic rage to motherly guilt-trip in a heartbeat, is pure nightmare fuel with a comedic twist.
Lee Cronin’s Direction: Raimi’s Legacy, Cronin’s Madness
Lee Cronin doesn’t try to copy Sam Raimi—he channels him. The film’s kinetic camera work, warped humor, and relentless pacing feel like an evolution rather than imitation. Cronin’s background in atmospheric horror (The Hole in the Ground) adds a touch of dread to the franchise’s signature chaos.
He understands that Evil Dead isn’t just about gore—it’s about tone. It’s about mixing terror and absurdity until they’re inseparable. When the building literally vomits blood, you laugh—not because it’s funny, but because the movie’s so committed to its madness you can’t help but respect it.
The Themes: Family, Faith, and F***ing Up
At its heart (and spleen, and intestines), Evil Dead Rise is a movie about family. It’s about motherhood, estrangement, and the terrifying reality of responsibility. Both Beth and Ellie represent extremes—one terrified of motherhood, the other consumed by it.
The Deadites, as always, become a metaphor for loss of control, for the fear that the people we love can change into something monstrous. It’s not subtle, but it hits hard—especially when those metaphors come crawling through air vents, screaming your name.
Final Verdict: Hail to the Bloody Queen, Baby
Evil Dead Rise isn’t just a worthy successor—it’s a triumph. It captures everything fans love about the series while reinventing it for a new generation. It’s brutal, funny, heartfelt, and disgusting in equal measure—a symphony of chainsaws, blood geysers, and bad decisions.
By the end, you’ll feel like you’ve survived something. And in true Evil Dead fashion, you’ll probably want to do it again.
Rating: 9/10 — A demonic masterpiece of motherhood, mayhem, and more blood than the human body should legally contain.
