TL;DR: The fisherman’s back, and so are your favorite ’90s scream teens. Is it necessary? Not at all. Is it fun? Absolutely. If you grew up on VHS copies of teen slashers and wore JNCOs unironically, this will feel like catching up with old, bloody friends—goofy, messy, and charming in all the wrong ways.

Hooked on a Feeling (of Nostalgia)

When the news broke that we were getting a legacy sequel to I Know What You Did Last Summer, I’ll admit it: I groaned audibly. Not because I hated the original—it’s a foundational text for anyone who spent the late ’90s scouring Blockbuster shelves for scream queens and VHS bloodbaths—but because it felt like yet another cynical swipe at the millennial nostalgia machine. What’s next, a gritty reboot of Can’t Hardly Wait where they all get murdered at the party?

But then something happened. I watched it. And you know what? Against all odds, this goofy, sincere, glossy-as-hell revival slasher got under my skin. It made me laugh, cringe, and maybe—just maybe—feel like I was 14 again, sitting cross-legged on a shag carpet, clutching a bowl of Lucky Charms and watching Scream for the fiftieth time.

Is it dumb? Oh absolutely. Is it derivative? Mostly. But is it fun?

You bet your shiny rain-slicker it is.

The Summer That Refuses to Die

Let’s rewind, just for context. The original I Know What You Did Last Summer (1997) was never high art, and it never tried to be. While Scream poked fun at slasher tropes with a raised eyebrow and a razor tongue, I Know was the kid brother who didn’t get the joke but was really good at faking it. It had hot people (Jennifer Love Hewitt! Freddie Prinze Jr! Sarah Michelle Gellar at her absolute peak!), a killer with a fisherman’s hook, and a plot so simple you could write it on the back of a death threat.

The sequels, though? Yikes. I Still Know What You Did Last Summer was somehow set in the Bahamas, like they were trying to turn murder into a Club Med package. And I’ll Always Know What You Did Last Summer (the DTV disaster nobody asked for) felt like the cinematic equivalent of finding out your favorite teen actor started a crypto podcast.

So, by 2025, the franchise wasn’t exactly begging for a resurrection. But Hollywood, much like the fisherman, never really lets things stay dead.

A New Catch, Same Old Hook

Directed by Jennifer Kaytin Robinson—the sharp mind behind Netflix’s dark teen gem Do Revenge—this new entry understands exactly what it is and, more importantly, what it isn’t.

The setup? Classic. A group of twenty-somethings do something bad (details withheld for spoiler integrity), someone sends them a note that screams, “I know what you did,” and then the killings start. You’ve seen this before. You’ll see it again. But this time, the murders come with legacy characters, Gen Z trauma, and surprisingly thoughtful camera work.

That’s right: Julie James is back. And she’s a professor now.

Let me just pause here and say: Jennifer Love Hewitt is doing more than just cashing a check. She brings a weird gravitas to her return, a sincerity that walks a fine line between H20-era Laurie Strode and “yes, I did survive the late 2000s Lifetime Movie trap, thank you very much.” Freddie Prinze Jr. also shows up, reminding us all why he was the boyfriend we dreamed about even before we knew what that meant.

Together, they offer one of the most emotionally genuine scenes in the entire movie. A brief, quiet, melancholy moment that makes you think: maybe these movies can grow up. Kind of.

Meet the Fresh Meat

Our new core cast is a who’s who of “Wait, I know them from something.” We’ve got Chase Sui Wonders (Bodies Bodies Bodies), Madelyn Cline (Glass Onion), and Sarah Pidgeon, who really needs more roles that let her do anything other than look intense.

They’re all good. Like, surprisingly good. Better than the writing deserves, at times.

The dynamic between them doesn’t quite replicate the doomed high school innocence of the original, but they bring an anxious, post-COVID vibe to the whole “we did something bad” trope. These aren’t kids afraid of getting caught by their parents. They’re adults afraid of having their lives ruined by a moment of selfish panic—something that feels eerilymodern.

Still, for all their talents, the script gives them a mixed bag of tropes: the trauma-hardened loner, the sweet one who’s doomed to die, the messy queer bestie (a trope we need to stop defaulting to). Their sins are murkier than the original hit-and-run, and the reasoning for not calling the cops is flimsier than ever. In trying to subvert expectations, the writers sometimes trip over them.

But let’s be real. You’re not here for airtight logic. You’re here for murder in the moonlight and hot people screaming.

The Gore, the Glam, the Goof

There’s blood. Plenty of it. But I Know What You Did Last Summer (2025) leans more into soap opera noir than hardcore horror. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. Robinson knows how to shoot a movie—this thing is glossy, like a CW show with an HBO budget. Cinematographer Ava Berkofsky (of Insecure fame) makes even the grisliest scenes look like Calvin Klein ads with body bags.

Where it stumbles is in its scares. There’s a weird hesitancy in how the horror is framed. The original had that unforgettable Sarah Michelle Gellar chase scene—iconic, genuinely terrifying, and perfectly paced. This new version gives us daylight stabbings and broad daylight finales. Why are so many horror films afraid of the dark these days?

To compensate, Robinson goes ham on the mystery. And, honestly? I kind of loved it. The Scooby Doo plotting is a feature, not a bug. The reveals are completely bananas, the kind of thing that would make a Riverdale writer pause and say, “Wait, is that too much?”

And yes, there’s fan service. A dream sequence cameo that made my theater gasp, and a mid-credits scene that left me howling. Is it necessary? Not even remotely. But it’s hilariously bold.

Not All Summers Are Meant to Last

So, who is this movie for?

Not Gen Z, if early audience reactions are any indication. For younger viewers, this might feel like a half-hearted throwback to a franchise they never cared about. For older viewers—those of us who remember printing out AIM away messages with Scream quotes—it’s a goofy, gory time machine with better lighting.

It’s not quite self-aware enough to be satire. It’s not scary enough to be horror. And it’s not deep enough to be a reinvention. But it has heart. It cares, even if it doesn’t always know how to show it.

And in a year where every IP is being dragged back from the grave—Clueless, Legally Blonde, even Urban Legend—this one stands out for being strangely sincere. It’s trying. And that counts for something.

Verdict

Not essential, not exceptional—but infectiously earnest. This slasher sequel might not revive the genre, but it’s got enough charm and chutzpah to make you shout at the screen in all the right ways. Whether you’re here for the kills, the cameos, or just to see JLH hold it together one more time—this summer trip is worth taking.

Let’s just hope it’s the last one.