Flash forward: a premonition. You watch a film that starts out as fun but just devolves into a rambling series of half baked philosophical ideas, that seem interesting but ultimately don’t add up to anything. You jump. Thank God. Still looking at the review of the film. There is still time. You don’t have to see it. Final Destination Bloodlines comes as a re-start, a reheated and reanimated Final Destination film not quite a reboot, not quite a remake. To summarise in case you are unaware of the mechanism this franchise runs on: character sees a vision of a horrible disaster in which the cast dies horribly; character helps the cast escape this death; having cheated death, each of the cast is killed horribly while racing against the clock to untangle death’s design; the final characters circumnavigate death; death gets its vengeance.
Compared to other early 2000s slasher gore franchises, the series is unique for its lack of returning characters. In fact, a few exceptions not withstanding, there is a new cast every film – and Bloodlines is no different. Set in the modern day, it follows Stefani Lewis (Kaitlyn Santa Juana), a college student who begins to see visions of a disaster her grandmother prevented. After tracking down said grandma, Iris (Gabrielle Rose), the race begins. Can this family save themselves from the hereditary disease of mortality? You can imagine how this goes. The cutest thing Bloodlines slips in is certainly the order of death from eldest to youngest (the aforementioned bloodlines), which means this dysfunctional family unit has to protect each other, binding the survivor groups together in a way that is fresh to the series. Brothers promise safety to brothers, sisters to cousins. It is a step up for Final Destination, and it gives the fight to escape death a surprising bit of narrative weight.
As critical as I feel about this one, there is a lot to like. The opening premonition is a series best, with a fiery building collapse that effectively ratchets up the anxiety and uncertainty. The characters notice they are in a final destination film early on, resulting in a fun sequence in which they walk carefully down the street, trying to predict what little thing will cause instant death. Teo Briones gives a charming performance as Charlie Reyes, Stefani’s younger brother, avoiding much of the wooden acting the series is known for. Richard Harmon steals the show as a tattoo artist punk with actual energy, a piercing and magnetic performance that comes unexpected, while Anna Lore crushes it as Julia Campbell, especially in scenes that needed an extra kick. Compared to the frequently subpar acting and plotting of the first four entries (I am ride or die for FD5, and will not accept criticism), there is real meat to the plot. The cross-generational relationship forms the heart of Bloodlines, with Stefani having been abandoned by her mother, who feared becoming the death-obsessed maniac her own mother was. What the film is working with philosophically is stronger than ever, the titular bloodlines occasionally asking us to reflect on death – after all, it is likely your family too will shuffle off the mortal coil in age order. Isn’t that something?
Well, not really. Ultimately, Final Destination Bloodlines looks too much at its genealogy and not enough at itself. Most of its ideas feel half baked, and its plot falls apart when observed. The camera never quite finds that crawling dread that the best of the series has, and its actors cannot quite find their emotional footing. There are gestures at interesting ideas – death as a hereditary disease, family dynamics that drive the conflict, an engagement with holding death back vs allowing yourself to rest, but none of it comes together. It feels unfair to be so harsh on this film when in fact the producers are trying harder than ever to give this paint-by-numbers horror revival something bigger than the broad strokes, but it is exactly that unrealised potential that nags at you. Thematically, visually, emotionally, the movie feels like a Rube Goldberg machine you have to keep giving little nudges to. However, as an eleventh hour plot twist – what if it’s good that it’s bad? All the old 2000s recession indicator slashers were hellishly dumb, terribly acted and designed to terrify thirteen years old watching their first horror film at a sleepover. There is something pleasantly nostalgic about sitting in a dark room being exposed to industry standard slasher slock. You see the signs, a plot element introduced then dropped, inconsistent characterisation, a not-quite-witty enough script, and then it hits you like a freight train: we are going to get a million more of these.
And I eagerly await the next one.
