“Resident Evil” proves that Zach Cregger gets it. After the overwhelming critical praise for “Weapons,” his sleazy, silly child-snatching witch picture that won the transcendent Amy Madigan a well-deserved Academy Award, the world was his for the taking; and a diverse, if predictable, path diverged before him along the yellow brick road of Hollywood. He could have pivoted away from his genre roots with a penchant for socially curious horror-adjacent comedies, and instead chased clout; climbing aboard the ever-disorienting merry-go-round of filmmakers who unmoor and contort themselves for the favor of respectability. Another path would have been the Cinematic Universe route, the Marvels, the DCs, parlaying artistic integrity for a mondo paycheck and a chance to rub elbows with the fancy folks whose ivory towers are built on the backs of fanboy love. Or, there’s door number three, whose doors, when opened, unleash a bloody tidal wave that puts “The Shining” to shame; a gorential downpour of viscera that, in the hands of a lesser filmmaker, would consume and overwhelm. But Cregger at his best is not like the other horror lads. For him, blood on the floor may as well be a banana peel, a googly-brained opportunity for slapstick shenanigans and deeply relatable human feeling. The cross-section of terror and comedy is less a Venn diagram than it is a circle. Sam Raimi understood that. So did John Carpenter. It’s too early to say if Cregger is meant to be placed in their pantheon, but “Resident Evil” is a fine addition to his illustrious resume; a hilarious, streamlined survival horror that doesn’t so much underscore the scares with laughter as vice versa, crafting in its unholy alchemy a unique and potent abomination worthy of the Umbrella Corporation’s most dastardly experimentations.
“Resident Evil” may be based around a video game series, but this film is far from a direct adaptation. As the story opens, we are with Bryan (Austin Abrams) as he juggles a serious phone call with his girlfriend and his job delivering transplant organs to a hospital. It seems that she may be pregnant, although Bryan is quietly hoping that the test was a false positive. While trying to put off this serious and potentially life-altering conversation, Bryan is offered a double-pay job to take another order to a hospital in Raccoon City. Despite the snow and the poor state of his vehicle, he eagerly takes the assignment, seemingly for the pay as much as the excuse to put off talking to his girlfriend about the future. Slipping and sliding down icy back roads, Bryan keeps steady until a woman rushes into the road and slams into his vehicle. Instead of running, Bryan is a good guy and does what we all might hope we would do; he goes after her, finding the woman lying prone in the snow, covered in blood. He guides her back to his car and is quickly flagged down by a cop, whom he convinces to help him get the lady, and his precious cargo, safely to Raccoon City. Soon, however, the police car is flipped into an empty field, and Bryan is being chased by the lady he put so much effort into assisting; her injuries clearly more of the “biological weapons fallout” variety than simple shock. What follows is Bryan’s trek, step by step, from the frozen outskirts of Raccoon City to the very heart of what he comes to learn is a chemical outbreak of catastrophic proportions unleashed by the immoral experimentation of the ubiquitous Umbrella Corporation. The only way out is through; the only way home is forward; so Bryan straps on his tiny cooler bag and sets off toward his ultimate destination, facing unrelenting horrors of an increasingly maniacal sort.
“Resident Evil” shines brightest when it focuses on Abrams as he, entirely alone, problem-solves his way through each hurdle that this night brings his way. Comparisons to Bruce Campbell’s Ash are somewhat apt, as Abrams is a sure and funny focus for our attention; a frazzled everyman who is quick to flee an incoming zombie abomination but is also sure to help someone in need. The power of Cregger’s storytelling, from a script that he co-wrote with Shay Hatten, is clear from the opening seconds: watching as Abrams’ Bryan walks into a hospital while on the phone with his girlfriend. Bryan is not a dirtbag boyfriend, not one to shirk responsibility; he’s clearly just afraid of the monumental obligation of being a father, a relatable fear that, in some ways, understandably trounces the army of undead slug monsters à la “The Thing” he will soon be forced to face. He’s a good guy, one eager to help a woman who is clearly hurt and unwell on the side of the road, despite the ramifications to his own well-being. He quips to himself in the way any one of us might if left alone in the dark with some Lovecraftian nightmare chasing us; not to be funny, but to hear another human voice, a small comfort but one all the same. Cregger and Hatten’s script is unendingly, and sneakily, clever about how it stacks problem after problem atop Bryan, forcing him to think outside the box but to also suffer the consequences of his poor decisions. An early sequence in a barn, with Bryan fleeing a rampaging dog only to taunt the animal to his own detriment, is a sterling example of the film’s charms: its ability to retain tangibility while playing up the otherworldly. Bryan is no superman, no stone-cold killer or hero; he can barely hold a gun, let alone fire it accurately. Cregger understands the value of showcasing the fragility of the human body while retaining the rigidity of the need to survive: beating Bryan up, showering him with vomit and spilled guts, leaving him broken and bloody yet continually forward, ever undeterred and optimistic. This movie doesn’t work without Abrams, without us fully investing in this guy we not only like but know well, and hoping, perhaps against our better judgment, that he might make it through this night and be a better man/father for it. The fact that he is ultimately undone by his own kindness belies a character fully realized; a subtly difficult and effective central performance that carries the audience through Hell on the back of snark and frantic ingenuity, the kind of perfect avatar that a video game could only aspire to match.
There is no barrier to entry to “Resident Evil” despite it being an “adaptation” of the fabled video game franchise. To the apparent uproar of fans everywhere, Cregger decided to allow this film to be within the world of the games without reflecting them one-to-one; a brilliant decision that pays off dividends for one’s enjoyment of this film. There are no obvious Easter Eggs or winks to one of the myriad games in the franchise. If the movie ever slows down, it’s when it is forced to explain itself through disposable side characters who, thankfully, only exist long enough to prod Bryan along his zombie-laden journey. The history of video game movies is mostly a slog of poorly conceived cash grabs and fan service. What Cregger is able to pull off here, by frankly not caring one iota about what anyone else wants to see but himself, is a film that soars in its simplicity, in its cheeky nihilism, and in its smoldering personal tragedy. It’s the kind of film that, in lesser hands, might end on a down note but instead leaves the audience cheering through absurdity and tragedy; eager for more and left wanting, the most potent mix for a genre picture and an anachronism in the world of video game adaptations. Kudos to Cregger; if he feels the need to prove himself, it doesn’t show. He’s chasing his own muse, and the movies are all the better for it.
“Resident Evil” is easily Cregger’s funniest film, though that does not mean that it holds back on the horror. There are sequences of body contortion that are slimy and inventive, but also quieter moments of profound, borderline existential dread. Rarely does a movie aim for both and nail the target each time. If this is what big-budget horror can aspire to be, fellow filmmakers better be on guard. A new bar has been set, a freshly gore-slicked brass ring just waiting to be snatched, and I can’t wait to see what cross-contaminated hell beast rises up to pull it down next.
Get infected.
You’ll be glad you did.
“Resident Evil” is playing at Prytania Theatres at Canal Place and The Broad Theater.
