If you ever watched Rosemary’s Baby and thought, “What this needs is more mutant infant murder and fewer intelligent conversations,” then It Lives Again might be your kind of playpen. Directed by Larry Cohen, this 1978 sequel to It’s Alivecranks up the paranoia, turns the parental dial to eleven, and drops the viewer headfirst into a bottle episode of What to Expect When You’re Expecting a Monster.
And yet—for all its blood-smeared bassinets and government-funded baby hunts—it still manages to feel like the cinematic equivalent of a shrug.
The film picks up not long after the events of It’s Alive, with a visibly exhausted and emotionally unstable Frank Davis (played with hangdog sincerity by John P. Ryan) returning to warn expectant couples that their unborn children might not come out cooing and burping—but biting. He’s no longer grieving; he’s recruiting. Frank’s baby from the first film was one of the original mutants—a fanged, clawed, genetically malformed infant that went on a rampage before being taken out like a rabid raccoon. Now Frank’s all in. A full-blown believer. A baby whisperer for the damned.
He arrives like a trench-coated prophet at the doorstep of Eugene and Jody Scott (Frederic Forrest and Kathleen Lloyd), an expecting couple with that fresh-faced, wide-eyed optimism that always spells doom in horror movies. Frank breaks the news: your baby might be a killing machine. Surprise!
Before you can say “diaper rash,” Eugene and Jody’s baby is born—and just like that, another mutant joins the bloody nursery. This kicks off a chain of increasingly weird scenes involving stolen babies, secret labs, and the kind of covert operations usually reserved for alien invasions or pharmaceutical conspiracies. The government, naturally, is involved. They’re tracking these babies, looking to exterminate them like Bed Bath & Beyond is running a clearance sale on cradle-shaped coffins.
Let’s get one thing out of the way: the premise is bonkers. But that’s Larry Cohen’s specialty—high-concept horror that hits you with a straight face and dares you to laugh. And It Lives Again wants to be smart. It wants to dig into themes like fear of genetic engineering, the ethics of eugenics, and the deep existential dread that comes with not knowing what’s growing inside your partner’s womb.
Sometimes it does. But often, it just settles for creepy nursery music and mutant baby shrieks, which sound like a blender full of wasps mixed with a dentist drill.
The mutant babies themselves—brought to life with animatronics that look like they were borrowed from a Chuck E. Cheese after dark—don’t get much screentime. Cohen plays it smart in that sense, keeping them in shadows or flashes. Because, let’s face it, a rubber monster baby puppet only looks terrifying for about three seconds before it turns into a punchline.
But that’s part of the film’s weird charm. It tries to play it straight—very straight. This is no horror-comedy. It’s delivered with all the deadpan seriousness of a cancer PSA. You’ve got government agents stalking hospital corridors, doctors speaking in hushed tones about birth defects, and characters having full-blown moral crises about whether it’s okay to love a monster child. At times, it feels like a Lifetime movie fell into a vat of creature feature goo.
Frederic Forrest, as Eugene, does his best to sell the “new dad meets horror spawn” storyline. He has that kind of Vietnam-vet eyes that say, “I’ve seen some things,” which helps anchor the insanity in something resembling emotional weight. Kathleen Lloyd’s Jody gets the usual thankless horror mom role: be pregnant, be scared, scream in pain, fade into the background while the men make the big decisions.
And then there’s John P. Ryan, chewing through scenes like a man trying to swallow his own grief. He’s got a haunted energy, a blend of cult leader and late-night infomercial host for postnatal apocalypse survival kits.
Still, for all its dark themes and dramatic delivery, It Lives Again drags. The pacing is off—plenty of talking, little payoff. We get long scenes of ethical hand-wringing followed by a brief flicker of mutant baby mayhem. You keep waiting for the blood to hit the crib, but most of it feels like foreplay without a climax. By the time the climax does arrive—complete with police shootouts, lab explosions, and tiny claws slashing at hazmat suits—it feels more like a contractual obligation than a crescendo.
Final Verdict:
It Lives Again isn’t a great horror movie. It’s not even a particularly good one. But it’s fascinating in that offbeat, late-’70s way where horror tried to get cerebral, but still couldn’t resist throwing in a monster or two.
It’s a film that takes itself seriously—even if its premise begs for satire. It’s the kind of movie that’s more fun to describe than to watch. Like telling your friends about a dream where babies are government targets and John P. Ryan is the last man standing with a bottle and a Bible.
Middle-of-the-road? Absolutely. But for the brave—or the bored—it’s worth a watch. Just don’t expect it to change your life. Or your opinion on parenting.
Grade: C+
Best enjoyed with a drink, a sense of irony, and a strong birth control plan.
