I Know What You Did Last Summer

The reboot of I Know What You Did Last Summer, directed by Jennifer Kaytin Robinson, arrives as the latest product of Hollywood's remake machine, draped in nostalgia, steeped in gore, and struggling under the weight of its own legacy. While the original 1997 film, while never a true masterpiece, carved out a loyal fan base thanks to its keen sense of slasher and iconic moments, this new version aims to update the formula for a new generation of audiences without ever fully committing to reverence or reinvention. The result is a film that is both derivative and disjointed, more interested in nodding to its predecessors than in creating a new path. With a story that feels recycled and murders that lack imagination, the film never manages to step out of the shadow of its predecessor, despite a higher body count, polished art design, and a few brief flashes of self-awareness that only serve to highlight its overall lack of direction.

Set once again in the cursed town of Southport, North Carolina, the film begins with the return of Ava, the character played by Chase Sui Wonders, for an engagement party, who finds herself caught up in a Fourth of July misadventure with a group of friends that mirrors the events that took place nearly three decades earlier. The new cast, which includes Madelyn Cline, Tyriq Withers, Jonah Hauer-King, and Sarah Pidgeon, does its best with shallow characters and clumsy dialogue, but their narrative arc is so derivative that it becomes parodic. The triggering incident, this time a tragic car accident involving a stranger and the reckless decision to flee the scene, is rendered without any of the moral ambiguity that gave the 1997 film its tension. Unlike the first group, whose guilt seemed genuine and corrosive, this new generation seems trapped in a horror-themed escape room, more concerned with the plot than with the trauma they are experiencing. Their reactions are artificial, their bonds are fake, and the script never makes us feel that we care enough about them to fear for their lives.

Despite some efforts to create stakes and emotional complexity—Ava reconnects with old flames, Danica spirals downward in the wake of secrets, Stevie is confronted with the abandonment he suffered in the past—the film drowns in clichés. What could have passed as a tribute to the genre quickly turns into a lazy reproduction, with mysterious messages, a killer armed with a hook, and even the return of Jennifer Love Hewitt and Freddie Prinze Jr., who seem more like contractual obligations than creative decisions. Their appearances are brief and, unfortunately, superficial. Jennifer Love Hewitt delivers her famous line, “What are you waiting for?”, in a moment so cynically staged that it borders on self-parody, while Freddie Prinze Jr.'s Ray seems to exist only to confirm fan theories about what happened to the original survivors. Their scenes together attempt to anchor the story in emotional resonance, but the film's overall superficiality makes their grief more theatrical than profound.

One of the film's most glaring problems is its confused tone. While the 1997 film relied on a serious atmosphere, with isolated terror and psychological torment, this reboot oscillates between cheesy teenage jokes and moments of hyper-stylized brutality. Some of the deaths are executed with technical skill, notably a remarkable opening scene that briefly raises hopes for an inventive horror film. However, the film's horror elements are undermined by an overreliance on fake jump scares and an overproduced sound design, where suspense is replaced by loud jolts and genuine terror is traded for cheap thrills. The chase sequences, while more frequent than in the original, lack choreography and spatial logic, and the Fisherman's ability to appear and disappear at will strains credulity, even for a horror movie villain. The violence has no psychological impact; there is no sense of being hunted, just a series of scenes designed for shock value that lose their impact as the film goes on.

A notable and disappointing example of wasted potential is the scene featuring Sarah Michelle Gellar. While her inclusion is undeniably a clever nod, and the directors present the moment as a surreal homage to Helen Shivers' tragic fate, the sequence fails to connect with the audience on an emotional or thematic level. Rather than offering a poignant or shocking twist, the scene plays out like a museum exhibit: stylized but empty. Sarah Michelle Gellar's presence, while welcome in theory, becomes emblematic of the film's biggest flaw: its inability to integrate inherited elements into a coherent narrative. Instead of enriching the mythology, her scene feels tacked on, an original idea that elicits a shrug rather than a scream.

Perhaps the most frustrating aspect of this film is its chronic hesitation to take creative risks. Allusions to deeper commentary—on class divisions, generational trauma, the commodification of real crimes—are all there, but they're never developed. The film flirts with ideas about privilege, grief, and reputation management in the age of social media, but never explores them beyond superficial references. The character of Tyler, a podcast host played by Gabbriette Bechtel, is emblematic of this: what could have been a sharp commentary on the voyeurism of modern culture is reduced to a simple exposition device and a punchline. The film's final act, with its predictable revelation of the murderer and the clumsy announcement of a sequel in the middle of the credits, only further exposes its lack of narrative ambition, ending the story not with a bang but with a weary whimper.

Ultimately, this film is not without its occasional pleasures—a solid performance here, a clever visual reference there—but these are fleeting moments in an otherwise lifeless requel. Jennifer Kaytin Robinson's direction is competent but uninspired, and her screenplay, co-written with Sam Lansky and Leah McKendrick, is littered with genre nods that feel more like a checklist than organic storytelling. It's not the worst slasher revival to hit theaters in recent years, but it's one of the most disappointing, especially given the inherent potential of its premise and the goodwill its legacy enjoys. For fans hoping to recapture the terror and fun of the original, this film is likely to feel like a bait and switch. And for newcomers, it's unlikely to generate much interest in a franchise that, once again, has failed to develop into something more.

I Know What You Did Last Summer
Directed by Jennifer Kaytin Robinson
Written by Sam Lansky, Jennifer Kaytin Robinson
Story by Leah McKendrick, Jennifer Kaytin Robinson
Based on Characters by Lois Duncan
Produced by Neal H. Moritz
Starring Madelyn Cline, Chase Sui Wonders, Jonah Hauer-King, Tyriq Withers, Sarah Pidgeon, Billy Campbell, Gabbriette Bechtel, Austin Nichols, Freddie Prinze Jr., Jennifer Love Hewitt, Sarah Michelle Gellar
Cinematography: Elisha Christian
Edited by Saira Haider
Music by Chanda Dancy
Production companies: Columbia Pictures, Original Film
Distributed by Sony Pictures Releasing
Release dates: July 14, 2025 (The United Theater on Broadway), July 16, 2025 (France), July 18, 2025 (United States)
Running time: 111 minutes

Seen on July 16, 2025 at Gaumont Disney Village, Theater 4, seat C19

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