TL;DR: Zach Cregger’s Resident Evil turns survival-horror gameplay into a frantic, funny monster movie powered by a superbly overwhelmed Austin Abrams, even if its character journey stops just short of a truly killer finish.

Zach Cregger’s Resident Evil arrives carrying enough franchise baggage to fill the Spencer Mansion twice over, yet its smartest move is refusing to behave like another checklist adaptation. Rather than rebuilding a familiar game storyline or trying to resurrect the increasingly ridiculous escalation of the previous movie franchise, Cregger approaches Capcom’s survival-horror universe from a more immediately relatable angle: what happens when a completely ordinary guy wanders into a nightmare for which he is spectacularly underqualified? The answer is messy, funny, stressful and frequently disgusting in exactly the ways a Resident Evil movie should be.

What surprised me most is how confidently the film understands the feeling of playing Resident Evil without simply turning the screen into live-action cosplay. There is panic, improvisation, monsters, terrible decisions and that familiar sense that surviving the next few minutes counts as a major achievement. Cregger turns those ingredients into a lean action-horror ride anchored by Austin Abrams, whose wonderfully overwhelmed protagonist gives the movie something this franchise desperately needs: an actual human being to care about.

Austin Abrams makes being completely unprepared ridiculously entertaining

Abrams plays Bryan, a courier finishing his shift when the promise of double pay convinces him to make one final hospital delivery during a snowstorm. His vehicle is hardly equipped for the conditions, and things deteriorate dramatically after he hits a mysterious woman on the road. Before Bryan has much opportunity to understand what is happening, his mundane working night has effectively loaded the world’s worst survival-horror save file.

The inspired part is that Bryan isn’t secretly an elite operative waiting for the screenplay to activate his combat skills. He is frightened, clumsy and prone to making decisions that aren’t necessarily smart but make perfect sense for someone desperately processing an impossible situation. Abrams sells the constant movement between confidence and sheer panic, while Bryan’s frustrated muttering keeps the comedy connected to his personality rather than turning him into a walking punchline. His attempts to do the right thing matter too, because underneath the incompetence is someone who keeps trying even when he clearly hasn’t unlocked the necessary skill tree.

Zach Cregger understands that Resident Evil should feel dangerous and weird

After Barbarian and Weapons, Cregger has developed a knack for controlling an audience’s expectations, and Resident Evil gives him a playground built almost entirely from uncertainty. His direction keeps Bryan — and therefore us — reacting rather than comfortably anticipating what comes next. The horror isn’t treated as an obligatory pause between action sequences; tension, scares and comedy constantly feed into one another, with Cregger demonstrating that even the supposedly ancient art of the jump scare still works when the timing is good enough.

There is also a pleasing restraint to the humour. This isn’t full Sam Raimi splatstick, even though Cregger’s comedy background is clearly part of the film’s DNA. The laughs generally emerge from Bryan’s responses to increasingly absurd circumstances, which prevents the horror from becoming weightless. Resident Evil has always occupied that strange gaming territory where horrifying biological monstrosities coexist with wonderfully ridiculous genre excess, and the movie appears comfortable living somewhere between those extremes rather than apologising for either one.

The movie captures survival horror without adapting a game mission-by-mission

Perhaps the strongest creative decision is Cregger’s refusal to directly recreate one particular Resident Evil storyline. Instead, the movie translates the sensation of entering an unfamiliar game and discovering its rules through failure, experimentation and increasingly desperate improvisation. Bryan essentially behaves like a player who skipped the tutorial and somehow found himself several checkpoints deeper into the campaign.

That could easily have become unbearably self-aware, but Abrams keeps the concept grounded. The film doesn’t need characters constantly nudging the audience with references because the gaming influence is baked into its momentum. Encounters become problems to survive rather than opportunities for effortless heroism, and Bryan’s lack of competence gives danger some teeth. For fans frustrated by video-game adaptations that either slavishly reproduce their source material or seemingly resent being associated with it, this middle ground is refreshing: recognisably Resident Evil without requiring everyone to compare screenshots afterward.

Monsters push Resident Evil beyond another zombie movie

The film also benefits from embracing the broader creature side of Resident Evil rather than treating zombies as the franchise’s entire identity. Anyone who has spent time with Capcom’s games knows that “infected human shambling toward you” is merely the opening argument before the biological nightmare factory really starts cooking. Cregger leans toward that monster-movie potential, giving the experience more variety and allowing the horror to grow alongside Bryan’s increasingly catastrophic evening.

That approach also separates this incarnation from the Milla Jovovich-led films. Those movies eventually became enormous action spectacles, whereas Cregger’s perspective remains tied more closely to vulnerability and survival. The scale can become chaotic without Bryan suddenly feeling invincible, which is crucial. Resident Evil is much scarier when the protagonist looks like he’d rather find an exit than deliver a slow-motion superhero landing.

A terrific ride that doesn’t quite finish Bryan’s character arc

Where the film loses some of its bite is near the end. After investing so much effort into making Bryan more than an expendable horror avatar, the story doesn’t fully capitalize on the emotional possibilities it has created. There is identifiable character movement, but the final stretch appears more interested in completing the immediate horror ride than interrogating what surviving it means for the person we’ve spent more than 90 minutes following.

That wouldn’t matter quite as much if Bryan were simply a functional protagonist, but Abrams makes him compelling enough that I wanted the movie to push further. Cregger successfully explores the monsters as threats without digging quite deeply enough into the boundary between monstrosity and humanity that the material potentially offers. It doesn’t ruin the experience — far from it — but it creates the strange sensation of reaching what feels like the final boss only to discover that one potentially fascinating narrative room remains locked.

Verdict

Resident Evil works because Zach Cregger understands that adapting a video game isn’t necessarily about reproducing its plot. It’s about translating the experience. Here that means vulnerability, improvisation, escalating biological horror and the constant suspicion that opening the next door is an absolutely terrible idea that you’re going to do anyway.

Austin Abrams is the movie’s secret weapon, giving Bryan enough charm, panic and stubborn decency to turn an intentionally unimpressive hero into someone worth following through the carnage. The film’s horror-comedy balance, aggressive momentum and willingness to embrace monsters make it an entertaining reinvention, even if the ending doesn’t develop its protagonist or themes as completely as the preceding material deserves. Resident Evil veterans should appreciate how naturally the film captures the games’ survival-horror spirit, while newcomers can enjoy it as an energetic creature feature without needing decades of Umbrella Corporation homework.