Earlier this year I wrote an article about seeing the Evil Dead musical. One thing I really appreciated about the musical was its decision to lean into what I consider the bread and butter of the Evil Dead franchise, its unrelenting commitment to goofiness. Whilst the goofiness within the franchise took a slight hit in the 2013 remake of the original film, I’ve felt that the more recent Evil Dead film, Evil Dead Rise (2023), had taken a page out of the Necronomicon of the original trilogy and television series, and allowed comedy to sit beside horror as equally important elements of the franchise. The films have never been unrelentingly cruel or gory, instead they always allow moments of levity. Importantly, the deadites were always up for a bit of banter, which conversely somehow made them more terrifying. The most recent release in the franchise, Evil Dead Burn (2026), seems to steer away from this approach however, leaning more into extreme horror.
Prior to seeing this film I was informed by the internet and close friends that it was a very “French” film. Whilst I thought that was a strange thing for an Evil Dead movie to be, I was admittedly a little bit excited. As a student of the French language, I considered it to be an opportunity to do some listening practice, and potentially have it be a nice double feature after watching La Haine (1995) the night before. What I didn’t realise was that the “Frenchness” of the film was not just in the inclusion of Swiss (French speaking) actress Souheila Yacoub as our main character “Alice”; nor the use of the French language intermittently throughout the film, but also its “New French Extremity” influence, a genre known for its controversial yet highly regarded directors such as Gaspar Noé. French director, Sébastien Vaniček, has stated that “[créer un film] hyper brutal et violent, c’était mon objectif” ([creating a film that was] extremely brutal and violent, that was my goal). This goal seems in line with the New French Extremity movement’s focus on depictions of extreme violence, with the aim of shocking the audience. There is a lot of debate as to whether or not this genre is presenting violence for a genuine purpose within film, if there is some artistic merit to these depictions, or if its only purpose is making audiences clutch their pearls. After watching Evil Dead Burn, and even now writing this article, I wonder whether the underlying meaning justifies the end product of the film.
A common comment I have seen about this film is that it is mean-spirited, and I have to agree. It is unrelenting in its brutality and I don’t think the underlying metaphors and analogies make up for how intense the violence is. The violence did not feel purposeful, it felt like it was included simply to shock, which aligns with the directors goal. In that sense, it was successful, but I don’t think that makes it a successful film.
The film centres on the complicated grief our main character has around the death of her husband, who was physically and verbally abusive to her during their marriage, and whose family appears to be blissfully unaware of the reality of their marriage. Our main character is geographically isolated from her family in Paris, linguistically isolated amongst anglophones, and is blamed for the death of her late-husband by his family. We get hints throughout the film that this family has an internal history of violence, based on the way the husband's father appears filled with silent rage even before he is possessed by a deadite. Strangely, the house, family and themes of violence were all very reminiscent of the Resident Evil 7 game’s theme and vibe. Overall, this film's exploration of the cycles of violence, the isolation of survivors, and what one must push through to even begin to heal is evident.



