The Undead Franchise That Refuses to Stay Buried
There’s a certain irony in watching Resident Evil: Vendetta. It’s a film about viruses that refuse to die, made by a franchise that also refuses to die — even when it probably should’ve been put out of its misery several infections ago.
This 2017 CG feature, directed by Takanori Tsujimoto and produced by Capcom, is supposed to bridge the gap between the games, offer cinematic thrills, and remind us why we love the Resident Evil universe. Instead, it plays like someone put the script of Fast & Furious in a blender with leftover Umbrella Corporation fan fiction and rendered it in 2007 graphics.
If Resident Evil once represented smart survival horror, Vendetta represents the series’ midlife crisis — one filled with protein shakes, motorcycle flips, and melodrama so thick you could trowel it onto a mansion wall.
Plot: Or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Explosion
Let’s start with the story — not that it matters. Vendetta is a narrative jigsaw puzzle assembled by someone who lost the box and replaced half the pieces with pure nonsense.
Chris Redfield (a man who now appears to be composed entirely of upper body) is hunting Glenn Arias, a rogue CIA agent turned arms dealer who looks like a rejected Final Fantasy villain and has the emotional range of a wet napkin. Arias’ motivation? The U.S. government killed his family in a drone strike on his wedding day, so naturally he decides the best revenge is to infect the world with a zombie virus. Because when life gives you tragedy, make apocalypse.
Meanwhile, Dr. Rebecca Chambers — the only Resident Evil character who still remembers what “science” means — is studying the new “A-Virus,” which can turn anyone into a walking corpse faster than you can say “Capcom needs a new plot device.” She’s promptly kidnapped, because this series treats women with PhDs like chew toys for bioengineered sociopaths.
And then there’s Leon S. Kennedy, once the charming rookie cop of Resident Evil 2, now a jaded alcoholic with perfect hair and the dead eyes of a man who’s been through too many sequels. He’s dragged back into action by Chris, because apparently every zombie outbreak requires the same three people.
The result? Ninety-seven minutes of explosions, gunfights, slow-motion roundhouse kicks, and dialogue that sounds like it was translated from English into English via Google Translate.
Animation So Uncanny It’s Practically a Virus
You’d think a CG film released in 2017 would look good — after all, Resident Evil’s pre-rendered graphics were once legendary. Instead, Vendetta looks like a PlayStation cutscene that’s been stretched to feature length. Every character moves like they’re fighting through invisible pudding.
Facial expressions are a particular highlight, in the way watching mannequins scream might be. Rebecca’s face alternates between “mild concern” and “PowerPoint glitch,” while Chris’s jaw seems permanently locked in “heroic grimace mode.” Leon, meanwhile, delivers every line like he’s practicing for an audition to be a vampire in a CW drama.
It’s uncanny valley horror in a way Capcom probably didn’t intend. Forget zombies — the real terror here is watching digital humans try to emote.
Action: Guns, Grenades, and Zero Gravity Logic
Now, to be fair, Vendetta does deliver on one promise: it’s got action. Lots of it. Too much, actually. Every five minutes, something explodes — sometimes for plot reasons, sometimes just because the animators got bored.
There’s a motorcycle chase through zombie traffic that defies both physics and reason, and a mansion shootout that feels like it was choreographed by John Woo’s ghost after a concussion. By the time Chris and Leon are backflipping over zombies in a ballet of bullets, you’ll either be cheering or Googling “can my brain get motion sickness?”
But here’s the thing: none of it matters. The action looks great in a vacuum but has zero emotional weight. It’s like watching two action figures repeatedly smash into each other — loud, colorful, and completely hollow.
Character Development (Spoiler: There Isn’t Any)
Chris Redfield is still angry, Leon Kennedy is still brooding, and Rebecca Chambers is still underappreciated. That’s the character arc.
Chris has become the embodiment of “angry man with a gun.” Every line he delivers sounds like it’s being shouted over helicopter blades, even when he’s in a quiet room. Leon, on the other hand, has transitioned fully into “grizzled burnout.” His introductory scene shows him hungover in a log cabin, clearly regretting his career choices — a mood we share by minute 20.
Rebecca at least tries to inject humanity into the chaos. She’s smart, resourceful, and almost compelling — until the plot literally injects her with a virus, because heaven forbid a female scientist in this universe not get damsel’d halfway through Act 2.
The villain, Glenn Arias, is a masterclass in wasted potential. His backstory could have been tragic; instead, it’s just tragic writing. He spends most of the film monologuing about love and revenge like a self-published poet who found grenades.
Zombie Dogs, Monster Mergers, and the Laws of Dumb
Because this is Resident Evil, we eventually get a boss monster — in this case, a grotesque fusion of Arias and his bodyguard Diego. The scene where two grown men literally merge into a single monster feels less like science and more like fan fiction written during a sugar high.
The resulting creature looks like a rejected Silent Hill design that fell into a vat of Monster Energy. Naturally, it’s immune to bullets until the script decides it isn’t. Chris and Leon kill it with synchronized teamwork so perfect it makes Step Uplook realistic.
By this point, the film’s logic has rotted faster than one of its zombies. The antidote magically cures everyone, New York City returns to normal within minutes, and Chris and Leon fly away in a helicopter while the swelling music begs you to feel something. You won’t.
Dialogue That Could Raise the Dead (With Laughter)
If you ever wanted to hear lines that sound like they were written by an AI fed nothing but protein bar ads, Vendetta is for you. Gems include:
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“I’m going to kill you, Glenn Arias!”
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“You can’t kill what’s already dead!”
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“We have to stop the virus before it stops us!”
The emotional scenes aren’t much better. Rebecca’s big monologue about the “beauty of humanity” feels like it was copied from a Hallmark card left in a body bag. And Leon’s attempts at humor fall flatter than a zombie under a tank.
Resident Evil: Gym Edition
One has to admire how Capcom continues to double down on its own absurdity. Vendetta is less a movie and more a fitness advertisement. Chris and Leon look like they spend more time at the gym than in actual combat training. Their biceps have biceps. When they shake hands, it’s like tectonic plates colliding.
The only thing scarier than the monsters is the sheer amount of testosterone in every frame. The real virus here isn’t the A-virus — it’s unchecked masculinity.
Final Verdict: The Undead Deserve Better
Resident Evil: Vendetta is loud, dumb, and occasionally fun — like a chainsaw revving in an empty room. It’s not the worst the series has ever been, but it’s close enough to smell the decay.
There are flashes of what could have been — Rebecca’s early lab scenes have genuine tension, and the setting occasionally flirts with atmosphere. But every time the film starts to build something meaningful, another explosion wipes it away.
Ultimately, Vendetta is a zombie film without a pulse, an action movie without stakes, and a horror story without fear. It’s proof that even franchises with infinite lives can run out of soul.
Rating: 3 out of 10 exploding motorcycles.
Because not even the T-virus could reanimate this script.
