TL;DR: The Grabber’s back, creepier than ever, in a sequel that’s more A Nightmare on Elm Street than cash-grab. It’s smart, scary, and just self-aware enough to earn its scream. 4/5.

If you’d told me in 2021 that Ethan Hawke would become the next Freddy Krueger, I would’ve laughed so hard I’d choke on my overpriced AMC popcorn. This is the man who spent most of his career playing sensitive dads and introspective writers who stare out of rain-streaked windows. Yet somehow, in The Black Phone, he slithered into that bone-white devil mask and became the kind of villain that lives in your drywall. He didn’t just act creepy — he radiated that “guy-who-definitely-owns-a-windowless-van” energy.

So when Black Phone 2 got announced, I felt that horror-fan dread: the “we’re-about-to-ruin-something-perfect” dread. Sequels to one-off horror hits almost always feel like ordering Taco Bell at 3 a.m. — you’ll regret it halfway through but the craving wins. We’ve all seen it happen: The Ring Two, Blumhouse’s Truth or Dare, any movie with the number 3 in it.But somehow — against logic, budget, and Ethan Hawke’s presumably high therapist bills — Black Phone 2 doesn’t just survive. It sharpens its knife.

The Ghost Line’s Still Busy

We pick up four years after Finn (Mason Thames, now looking like he’s been living off gym angst and trauma) strangled The Grabber into oblivion. Life should be fine. But of course it isn’t — this is horror, where therapy never works and nobody installs extra locks. Finn’s still haunted, twitchy, puffing cigarettes like he’s auditioning for a reboot of The Breakfast Club. The titular phone is ringing again, this time with worse reception: calls from literal Hell. Because apparently Verizon’s coverage plan extends to the underworld.

Meanwhile, little sister Gwen (Madeleine McGraw) — the breakout MVP from the first film — starts seeing visions of dead kids at a Christian winter camp. It’s got that perfect mix of horror and childhood trauma that basically screams “Joe Hill story.” And yeah, the big twist this time is that it’s Gwen’s movie. Finn’s still hanging around like a haunted older brother in a CW drama, but the camera belongs to her.

This shift is the movie’s secret weapon. It could’ve been another “traumatized boy vs. mask man” rerun. Instead, it leans into Gwen’s messy, emotional, slightly feral energy. She’s fighting ghosts, God, puberty, and the weight of being the only psychic girl in Sunday school. When she decides to face The Grabber again, it’s not just revenge — it’s emotional inheritance.

The Grabber Problem (and Why It Works)

Here’s the tightrope Black Phone 2 had to walk: bring back The Grabber without turning him into a Funko Pop. Because the second you make a villain “cool,” the fear dies. Remember when Freddy Krueger started cracking puns like a Vegas comic? Yeah. That.

Director Scott Derrickson and co-writer C. Robert Cargill apparently made a blood pact with Joe Hill to avoid that fate. Their trick? Minimal screen time. The Grabber is barely in the movie for ten minutes, yet he haunts every frame. When he does show up, he’s worse — a leaner, meaner post-mortem boogeyman. The mask stays, but now it feels almost ritualistic, like something worn by a demon that learned English purely to insult you.

Ethan Hawke delivers lines with the venom of a man who’s tasted Hell and found it boring. He’s playing pure id now — no charm, no humanity, just the kind of evil that feeds off kids’ screams and cold coffee. Every syllable feels like it’s scraped from the inside of that damn phone.

The Nightmare on Snow Camp Street

Yeah, comparisons to A Nightmare on Elm Street are unavoidable. The Grabber literally haunts dreams, slashes through memories, and invades sleep like he owns the franchise. But here’s the kicker — Black Phone 2 actually earns it. It’s less about jump scares and more about that slow, creeping dread that seeps into your bloodstream.

There’s one shot — a demonic face flickering in a snowball reflection — that’s so quietly evil I almost applauded. Derrickson has this rare ability to make the mundane horrifying. He turns snow, mirrors, and even ringing phones into trauma triggers. This is horror that doesn’t chase you; it lingers like bad Wi-Fi.

The movie also indulges in a kind of “religious horror by way of Hot Topic.” There are crosses, visions, and whispery prayers, but they never feel pandering. It’s more The Exorcist-core than Sunday School, which works perfectly for Gwen’s character arc.

The Cast Glow-Up

Mason Thames has clearly been hitting the Hollywood protein shakes. The kid brings real weight to Finn’s PTSD — that jittery mix of rage and guilt. You can practically see the nightmares under his eyes. Meanwhile, McGraw evolves Gwen from precocious sidekick to full-on protagonist, and it’s the smartest move Derrickson could’ve made. She plays trauma like a survival skill, not a sob story.

Miguel Mora returns as Ernesto, delivering the comic relief this film desperately needs. The guy’s basically the horror-movie equivalent of a player-two sidekick: loyal, awkward, occasionally heroic, and just human enough to make you care. Then there’s Demian Bichir as Armando, the grizzled camp supervisor who looks like he’s survived twelve haunted summers and one messy divorce. If he isn’t secretly hunting ghosts in an unmade Conjuring spin-off, I’ll eat my Blu-ray copy.

And can we talk about Arianna Rivas as Mustang? She strolls in like she’s here to flirt, but ends up outsmarting The Grabber’s curse. She’s that rare horror-movie character who refuses to die stupidly. We stan competence in this house.

The Violence, The Heart, The Preachiness

Let’s not sugarcoat it — Black Phone 2 goes hard. Kids die. Bones snap. Derrickson doesn’t flinch, and the result is genuinely disturbing. There’s a certain sadistic poetry to how violence is filmed — less gore, more psychological chokehold.

But underneath the carnage, there’s something surprisingly tender. The movie insists that love, belief, and sheer stubborn goodness can exist even in a world with Grabbers and ghost phones. Sometimes that sentimentality hits like a punch; sometimes it veers a little too Hallmark-channel-meets-Hellraiser. By the final act, the religious subtext becomes full-text — we get it, Scott, Heaven and Hell are customer-support lines for trauma.

Legacy, Franchises, and the Eternal Horror Cycle

Let’s be real: Black Phone 2 is a franchise starter. You can smell the universe-building in the air. And for once, I’m not mad about it. Unlike the shameless sequel baiting of most modern horror, this one feels earned. It’s less “sequel for cash” and more “unfinished business with demons.”

Horror history tells us every great villain eventually becomes a meme. Freddy did. Chucky did. Even Ghostface sells Funko Pops now. But for the moment, The Grabber still has teeth. He’s not ironic yet — and that’s a small miracle.

Final Thoughts (Before the Phone Rings Again)

Watching Black Phone 2 felt like getting a call from an ex you thought was dead — equal parts dread and curiosity, followed by an awkward, “Oh damn, they still got it.” It’s a sequel that respects its own ghost story, deepens its mythology, and somehow makes Ethan Hawke even scarier with less screen time.

Yeah, the pacing drags in spots. Yeah, the preachy finale borders on “youth-group sermon with jump scares.” But it never loses the core terror: that trauma doesn’t end when the villain dies. Sometimes, the ringing never stops.

For horror fans who thought they’d heard the last call, Black Phone 2 proves the line’s still open — and I, for one, will keep answering.