For die-hards, no horror movie can be too scary. But for you, a wimp, the wrong one can leave you miserable. Never fear, scaredies, because Slate’s Scaredy Scale is here to help. We’ve put together a highly scientific and mostly spoiler-free system for rating new horror movies, comparing them with classics along a 10-point scale. And because not everyone is scared by the same things—some viewers can’t stand jumpscares, while others are haunted by more psychological terrors or can’t stomach arterial spurts—it breaks down each movie’s scares across three criteria: suspense, spookiness, and gore.
Citizens of Raccoon City, this is an announcement: Resident Evil is back again—and it’s good! Coming off the success of horror sensation Weapons, director Zach Cregger has returned with a new installment in the Resident Evil film franchise, which itself is based off the hit Japanese video game series from Capcom. Cregger’s choice to follow up a totally original Oscar-winning film with a dreaded video-game-to-live-action adaptation is, on the surface, a tad baffling, but this Resident Evil—which Cregger promised would be his own vision, rather than another movie made to simply fit into the mold set by its predecessors—proves to be delightfully Creggerian, from its deployment of Weapons scene-stealer Austin Abrams to its seamless weaving together of humor and terror.
Abrams plays Bryan, a medical courier tasked with delivering an unknown package to a faraway hospital, who finds himself trying to survive an outbreak that has begun to infect humanity. At 90ish minutes, Resident Evil is lean and mean, with a bunch of smart camera and plot mechanics that really make you feel as if you’re playing the video game, whether or not you ever have before. (I, for one, hadn’t, but I had a blast anyway.) Still, we’re here to answer a different question: Just how scary is this survival film, and will you survive it? Let’s break it all down.
Resident Evil uses its premise of an emerging zombie-like outbreak to place the viewer inside a series of desolate landscapes—farmlands covered in snow, an emptied-out metropolis that’s been overturned by chaos—that, naturally, become a perfect backdrop for a number of escalating jumpscares. These frights vary in style, ranging from your classic “The monster is chasing me—but, wait, where did it go?” moments to more innovative material. One particular jolt, which occurs while the movie has directed your attention elsewhere, is so devious that a number of people during my viewing actually screamed in the theater. (I may have been one of them.) Even so, each of these momentary tension breakers feels earned, well placed, and seriously considered, not to mention visually interesting, going for quality as opposed to just quantity.
If you’re at all squeamish, I might consider sitting this one out. There’s a beheading, a human bisection, the spattered remains of a child on a wall, acid vomit, a truly messed-up depiction of what a maternity ward would look like if this infection were real, and more. To top it all off, imagine tentacles (how the infection manifests) big and small worming their way out of these mangled bodies. At one point, nearly a whole gun clip is unloaded onto a group of scurrying mice in the sewer; the creatures then sprout tiny tentacles and begin to merge together in a gooey mess. The reason this score isn’t off the charts is because Resident Evil manages to maintain a light, comedic tone despite the volume of the viscera—you’re disgusted one second and laughing the very next (such is life)—but those who get queasy should reconsider any plans to catch this one over a nice meal at their local dine-in theater.
Resident Evil is not the type of horror film that takes itself too seriously—and it shouldn’t, given the nature of the IP it’s based on. It inspires more giggles and heart-rate spikes than it does abject, soul-destroying fear. Abrams’ stellar performance as the quippy and hilariously incapable protagonist does a lot to leaven the mood. Still, plenty of Cregger’s images can linger, from the makeup designs to (as with those kids running, arms aloft, in Weapons) the way the infected humans move. And as with any apocalyptic film, after the laughter has faded, you may find yourself pondering the lengths you would go to in order to get yourself out of a life-threatening jam.
Resident Evil shines both as Cregger’s ode to the games and as an unusual experience that works all on its own. At times, with the way the camera pans, it feels as if the point of view is in your hands, and the film’s structure, which puts Bryan through one obstacle after another—in a running joke, each subsequent realm is cleverly blocked off by pesky padlocks he must attempt to shoot at—unfolds in a way that would be familiar to anyone who has played a narrative survival game.
And, in the midst of all of this paying homage, Cregger manages to craft a thrilling adventure of a horror film that feels refreshingly unique to the director in every way. Throughout his journey, Abrams wonderfully mirrors the viewer’s thoughts and feelings, which are a mix because of the movie’s infectious tonal balance. Within only an hour and a half, Resident Evil manages to be both creepy enough to keep you on the edge of your seat and self-aware enough to keep you smiling. It won’t be the scariest movie you see this year, but thank goodness for that.