Until dawn

At a time when video game adaptations are not only becoming more numerous but also more widely recognized, Until Dawn makes a striking entrance into the arena with bloody confidence and a knowing wink to horror fans. Directed by David F. Sandberg, a filmmaker who made a name for himself evoking fear in the dark with Lights Out and exploiting family trauma in Annabelle: Creation, this latest genre film is both a chilling homage to its roots and an intelligent attempt to expand them. But more than that, Until Dawn marks a decisive evolution in the cinematic treatment of interactive storytelling, navigating between faithful adaptation and narrative reinvention.

David F. Sandberg, whose career began with a terrifying short film that spawned Lights Out (2016), has always demonstrated a keen understanding of how to manipulate audience expectations. He plays with horror like a symphony, starting with whispers and ending in a thrilling crescendo. His instinct as a low-budget filmmaker serves him well here, infusing Until Dawn with an energy that is both precise and playful. But unlike his previous films, which relied heavily on supernatural phenomena and demonic dolls, Until Dawn represents an exciting expansion into the hybrid slasher-survival genre, enhanced by its video game-inspired structure.

The film moves away from the familiar faces of the original 2015 game—Rami Malek and Hayden Panettiere, among others—and instead focuses on Clover (Ella Rubin), a grieving young woman who, along with her friends, ventures into the isolated valley where her sister disappeared a year earlier. What follows is not just a descent into the unknown, but a cruelly inventive cycle of terror. Each night brings a new monster. Each morning, it all starts again. Sandberg uses repetition as a weapon, ensuring that the audience feels the terror of knowing what's coming and the anticipation of what has changed. Imagine Happy Death Day meets The Thing, wrapped in a fog of despair, where no victory is permanent and no death is ever final.

The way the film incorporates the concept of limited second chances is brilliantly twisted. Much like the butterfly effect system in the game, the characters are granted a limited number of second chances. But with each rebirth, the threat transforms. One night, it's a skinless, wendigo-like monstrosity; the next, a silent pursuer armed with an axe and wearing a porcelain mask. The murders are carried out with meticulous attention to horror clichés, while being sufficiently subverted to seem original. It's clear that Sandberg and screenwriters Gary Dauberman and Blair Butler aren't content to simply transpose the mechanics of the game; they question them. What does it mean to relive your mistakes when you know the price? How do you outsmart a system designed to punish you?

The cast is made up mainly of young actors with surprising chemistry. Ella Rubin delivers a remarkable performance, proving that she is more than capable of anchoring the emotional heart of the film. Michael Cimino, Belmont Cameli, Ji-young Yoo, and Odessa A'zion round out the group with credible camaraderie and a touch of genre-savvy banter. The dialogue has a touch of Scream, but also a vulnerability reminiscent of The Descent and even It Follows. The return of Peter Stormare as Dr. Alan J. Hill is a clever idea that ties the game and the film together. He embodies both a sinister guide and a spectral echo of the original, haunting the limits of reason with his enigmatic monologues.

Visually, Until Dawn is a gothic nightmare. Director of photography Maxime Alexandre (who has previously worked with Alexandre Aja and on The Nun) captures the desolate forest landscapes and dilapidated cabins with a painter's eye. The palette is dark but not muddy; silhouettes lurk in the silvery moonlight and shadows cling like a second skin. The art design, praised by early viewers, isn't just scary, it's immersive. It's a world designed to scare you, sure, but also to trap you. Benjamin Wallfisch's soundtrack underscores the horror with a mix of shrill violins and mournful piano that sounds like a cry from the abyss.

Of course, the film is not without controversy. Some might argue against the very idea of adapting Until Dawn for the big screen, arguing that it was the game's interactivity, its thrilling decisions and branching paths that gave it its power. This argument is not without merit. The original game was, in many ways, a love letter to horror cinema filtered through the prism of the player's free will. Removing that control and turning the experience into a passive observation could be seen as a narrative ouroboros, biting its own tail. But Sandberg responds to this criticism head-on by not retelling the game, but expanding its myth. He creates a parallel story, a spiritual cousin rather than a twin, and in doing so, he makes a film that stands on its own, haunted by its own past.

The film stumbles slightly in its pacing. At just over 100 minutes, it sometimes feels like a condensed version of a more ambitious project. Some of the transitions between the time loops are unclear, and one or two characters are clearly sacrificed. But these are minor details in a work rich in thrills. The film's meta-commentary, its celebration of the grotesque joys of horror, and its underlying emotional current—grief as a prison, guilt as a monster—all strike with considerable force.

Until Dawn can easily be compared to Cabin in the Woods, It, and even Evil Dead Rise, but these analogies don't quite capture its unique rhythm. Until Dawn is more of a popcorn movie than a psychological dissection. Not all horror movies need to reinvent the wheel. Some just need to spin it at full speed down a slippery, bloody slope. Until Dawn isn't so much trying to surpass its source material as it is carving out a place for itself in the ever-expanding canon of horror cinema. And it succeeds, with a chainsaw, no less. David F. Sandberg brings his signature kinetic energy and respect for the genre to a project that could easily have been content to coast on the brand's notoriety. Instead, he delivers scares, surprises, and, perhaps more importantly, soul. For horror fans and gamers alike, this is a night you won't want to spend sleeping.

Until Dawn
Directed by David F. Sandberg
Written by Gary Dauberman, Blair Butler
Story by Blair Butler, Gary Dauberman
Based on Until Dawn by PlayStation Studios
Produced by Asad Qizilbash, Carter Swan, David F. Sandberg, Lotta Losten, Roy Lee, Gary Dauberman, Mia Maniscalco
Starring Ella Rubin, Michael Cimino, Odessa A'zion, Ji-young Yoo, Belmont Cameli, Maia Mitchell, Peter Stormare
Cinematography: Maxime Alexandre
Edited by Michel Aller
Music by Benjamin Wallfisch
Production companies: Screen Gems, PlayStation Productions, Vertigo Entertainment, Coin Operated, Mangata
Distributed by Sony Pictures Releasing (United States), Sony Pictures Releasing France (France)
Release date: April 23, 2025 (France), April 25, 2025 (United States)
Running time: 103 minutes

Seen on April 23, 2025 at Gaumont Disney Village, Theater 7, seat A19

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