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Condensing a roughly 8-hour immersive video game experience into a passive, under two-hour horror viewing experience is a daunting puzzle to crack, especially for a video game as beloved among horror fans as Until Dawn. It’s a game where your choices as the player and the ability to nail a quick time event directly affect who survives the onslaught of horror threats, both metaphysical and psychological, further complicating adaptation endeavors.
Director David F. Sandberg (Annabelle: Creation, Lights Out) and screenwriters Gary Dauberman & Blair Butler realize what a fool’s errand it would be to try, at least as a straightforward adaptation, and instead take a kitchen sink approach with the Until Dawn movie
The core narrative thrust of Until Dawn calls the inciting event of the game to mind, in which one sister ventures into the dark wood to console her distraught sister, only for unspeakable horror to befall them both. In this case, it’s a rushed introduction to Clover (Ella Rubin, Fear Street: Prom Queen), a distraught young woman on a road trip among friends in search of her missing sister Melanie (Maia Mitchell). Melanie’s last video lures Clover and friends Max (Michael Cimino), Megan (Ji-young Yoo), Abe (Belmont Cameli), and Nina (Hellraiser‘s Odessa A’zion) to a mysterious manor in Glore Valley. But it doesn’t take long for the group to realize they’re stuck there, forced to die again and again at the hands of a variety of supernatural threats unless they manage to survive until dawn.
Until Dawn wastes no time getting straight to the horror mayhem, skipping through a clunky introduction to its roster of horror fodder to plunge headfirst into a dizzying time loop of death. It’s a setup that sounds ripe for unleashing creature feature fun, even if a drastic departure from the engaging story presented in the game. The exact type of setup that borrows far more liberally from the offshoot game Until Dawn: Rush of Blood, a rail shooter that saw players combatting different horror archetypes and enemies themed to every level in its bid to navigate a fractured psyche. Sandberg’s feature induces whiplash as it rushes through everything from slashers to spontaneous combustion and, eventually, the familiar inhuman foe from the game.
As fun as the deaths can be thanks to the practical effects, and they are constant courtesy of the time loop structure, they’re ineffectual and without impact. Until Dawn never bothers to flesh out its characters beyond rough, cringe-worthy exposition and dialogue at the outset. The only one who comes close to a distinct personality is Ji-young Yoo’s Megan, a self-proclaimed clairvoyant who offers more insight and character than the film even affords its lead protagonist. It makes it nearly impossible to invest in the group’s main goal: surviving the night. It’s a simple aim without weight; there’s no sense of urgency even as they’re constantly dying. We never really get a sense of who any of them are to care, either. Not even Clover; flashbacks arrive too late to attempt to flesh out the sisters’ undefined bond or the trauma that split them apart. Until Dawn also mistakes monster encounters for closure, further robbing this adaptation of any stakes or depth.
It’s the type of adaptation that intends to coast by on easter eggs, utilizing the game’s audio in key monster confrontations or Jennifer Spence’s stunning production design recreating some familiar mineshaft moments. Even that gets undermined, though, as Until Dawn commits the cardinal sin of being so woefully underlit that one dim theater bulb will obscure most of the action. Considering most of the film takes place at night, night after night, well, don’t expect to see most of the valiant effort the special effects team put into this adaptation.
Fans of the game may find themselves most put off by the mishandling of Dr. Hill, reprised by Peter Stormare. Stormare brings a sorely needed spirited energy in a film that mostly sleepwalks through its kitchen sink of horror, but the adaptation makes a grave miscalculation with his role in the events. Its closing coda, a direct attempt to tie this loose adaptation to its source material, fails to register as a result.
There’s no question that adapting a game like Until Dawn, one that featured smart writing from horror stalwarts Larry Fessenden and Graham Reznick, was an ambitious task. So much so that trying something different was the only path forward. But this adaptation captures none of the intensity or scares, nor does it really sell its concept. It winds up the equivalent of touring a loud, busy haunted house attraction. It’s packed to the brim with kills and monsters, very loosely connected by its source material, yet with none of the characters or lore as connective tissue. It’s an adaptation that fails its source material in nearly every way, but it also fails as a straightforward horror film.
This version of Until Dawn is essentially nothing more than a series of unconnected horror scenes in which characters we don’t care about die again and again. Nothing more, nothing less.
Until Dawn releases in theaters on April 25, 2025.
