Adapting Until Dawn into a feature film was always going to be a tough challenge. The game is beloved by horror fans not just for its immersive atmosphere, tension and iconic creatures, but also because it places the player at the centre of every decision, directly influencing who lives and who dies. Compressing all of that into a film under two hours was a delicate balancing act and, unfortunately, it falls completely flat.
At first, I was actually intrigued by the announced premise: a young woman searching for her missing sister joins a group of friends on a road trip to a remote location, where they end up trapped in a deadly time loop, forced to survive again and again until dawn. The time loop concept, while not entirely new, seemed like it could offer a fresh twist to the Until Dawn universe. And for a while, the film held my attention, the pace is quick, it doesn't get bogged down in lengthy exposition, and the deaths are frequent, violent and surprisingly graphic for a mainstream horror film. But the moment it tries to tie itself to the game's universe, things begin to fall apart.
The characters are paper-thin, like NPCs in Grand Theft Auto. There's no effort to make them interesting, relatable or even remotely engaging. The protagonist, Clover, is one of the most forgettable lead characters I've seen in hundreds of horror films. No presence, no charisma, no inner conflict. It doesn't help that the cast is stuck delivering forced dialogue and clunky writing from the very first scene. And if we don't care about the characters, the impact of the deaths, no matter how gory, is completely lost.
The film's biggest mistake, however, is the way it clumsily forces a connection to the original game. What should've felt like a tribute ends up dragging the entire narrative down.
(SPOILERS) The changes to the Wendigo lore are almost offensive.
In the game, Wendigos are humans who resorted to cannibalism, agile, fast, nearly unkillable creatures with armoured skin that can only be weakened by fire. Here, they're portrayed as people who failed to survive the time loop and gradually transform into monsters each time they die. This rewrite strips the Wendigos of their mythological weight and just doesn't make sense.
On top of that, the final act's mental hospital sequence was a narrative mess. I couldn't follow it, and I'm honestly not sure whether it was poorly explained or if I'd already tuned out by that point. It felt like a desperate attempt to shoehorn Peter Stormare's Dr. Hill into the plot, a role that should've brought gravitas but only highlights how much the writers relied on nostalgia over storytelling. The explanation of the time loop felt like something I would've come up with at age seven in a rushed school assignment: no logic, no structure, no clarity.
Still within spoiler territory, there's one particularly shameless decision in the third act: the story jumps from night five to night thirteen, skipping several crucial nights entirely. The characters don't remember what happened, until one of them pulls out a phone and plays a two-minute montage of them fighting various monsters and threats. It's laughably lazy, likely a budget or runtime workaround, but one that completely breaks immersion.
(END OF SPOILERS)
In the end, this version of Until Dawn feels more like a cheap haunted house attraction: loud, messy, full of random scares and little else. Yes, the kills are creative and the practical effects deserve some credit, but that's irrelevant when there's no strong story or characters to care about.
Despite everything, I still believe the film could've worked better if it had been a standalone project with no ties to the game. Until Dawn fails both as an adaptation and as a horror movie. To me, it's just a disjointed collection of scenes, loosely held together by an idea that never reaches its potential. Still, who knows, maybe others will enjoy the chaos more than I did.
At first, I was actually intrigued by the announced premise: a young woman searching for her missing sister joins a group of friends on a road trip to a remote location, where they end up trapped in a deadly time loop, forced to survive again and again until dawn. The time loop concept, while not entirely new, seemed like it could offer a fresh twist to the Until Dawn universe. And for a while, the film held my attention, the pace is quick, it doesn't get bogged down in lengthy exposition, and the deaths are frequent, violent and surprisingly graphic for a mainstream horror film. But the moment it tries to tie itself to the game's universe, things begin to fall apart.
The characters are paper-thin, like NPCs in Grand Theft Auto. There's no effort to make them interesting, relatable or even remotely engaging. The protagonist, Clover, is one of the most forgettable lead characters I've seen in hundreds of horror films. No presence, no charisma, no inner conflict. It doesn't help that the cast is stuck delivering forced dialogue and clunky writing from the very first scene. And if we don't care about the characters, the impact of the deaths, no matter how gory, is completely lost.
The film's biggest mistake, however, is the way it clumsily forces a connection to the original game. What should've felt like a tribute ends up dragging the entire narrative down.
(SPOILERS) The changes to the Wendigo lore are almost offensive.
In the game, Wendigos are humans who resorted to cannibalism, agile, fast, nearly unkillable creatures with armoured skin that can only be weakened by fire. Here, they're portrayed as people who failed to survive the time loop and gradually transform into monsters each time they die. This rewrite strips the Wendigos of their mythological weight and just doesn't make sense.
On top of that, the final act's mental hospital sequence was a narrative mess. I couldn't follow it, and I'm honestly not sure whether it was poorly explained or if I'd already tuned out by that point. It felt like a desperate attempt to shoehorn Peter Stormare's Dr. Hill into the plot, a role that should've brought gravitas but only highlights how much the writers relied on nostalgia over storytelling. The explanation of the time loop felt like something I would've come up with at age seven in a rushed school assignment: no logic, no structure, no clarity.
Still within spoiler territory, there's one particularly shameless decision in the third act: the story jumps from night five to night thirteen, skipping several crucial nights entirely. The characters don't remember what happened, until one of them pulls out a phone and plays a two-minute montage of them fighting various monsters and threats. It's laughably lazy, likely a budget or runtime workaround, but one that completely breaks immersion.
(END OF SPOILERS)
In the end, this version of Until Dawn feels more like a cheap haunted house attraction: loud, messy, full of random scares and little else. Yes, the kills are creative and the practical effects deserve some credit, but that's irrelevant when there's no strong story or characters to care about.
Despite everything, I still believe the film could've worked better if it had been a standalone project with no ties to the game. Until Dawn fails both as an adaptation and as a horror movie. To me, it's just a disjointed collection of scenes, loosely held together by an idea that never reaches its potential. Still, who knows, maybe others will enjoy the chaos more than I did.
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