Final Destination: Bloodlines Review: A Wacky, Gory Thrill Ride Achieves New Heights for the Franchise

      As legacy horror franchises strive to reintegrate themselves into popular culture through largely unsatisfactory reboot-sequel combinations that merge old and new characters, concerns arose about a new Final Destination installment. Apart from the second film, which saw Ali Larter’s character return to co-lead and deliver a guide on how to evade death, continuity has mostly been limited to Tony Todd’s cameos. The overarching theme of the franchise is so easily adaptable that it never truly required a cohesive shared universe. Yet, it did – the surprising twist ending of the fifth film, which disclosed that we were actually witnessing a prequel to the original all along, served as a strong reminder. More than any other slasher series, this long-running saga could see each entry effectively stand alone. Transitioning the franchise into a model that values its legacy and treats the connections between deaths with gravity would have resulted in a more somber conclusion than anything presented across the five previous films.

      Thankfully, despite the involvement of new producer Jon Watts, known for successfully tapping into blockbuster nostalgia with Tom Holland’s Spider-Man trilogy, Final Destination: Bloodlines shows little intention of recycling the past. Even the playful references to earlier scenes (hello again, logging truck!) are executed with the dark humor that has enabled this series to surprisingly endure. Purists may be annoyed that the straightforward lore has expanded, introducing the concept of the premonition curse being passed down to an elderly survivor’s granddaughter, but I found solace in the fact that directors Zach Lipovsky and Adam Stein have largely sidestepped the clichés typically associated with reboot-sequel combinations. Their film shines because they grasp that Final Destination isn’t a cinematic universe requiring reverence; it’s a ridiculous, gory thrill ride that rekindled the joy of why this franchise has always been such entertaining fun.

      The opening premonition of Bloodlines occurs several decades earlier, as Iris Campbell (Brec Bassinger) attends the grand opening of a bar-restaurant reminiscent of the Space Needle with her future husband. As the franchise progresses, these extended setups increasingly resemble ZAZ-style parodies of over-the-top disaster films; they benefit greatly from this approach. Here, the tone of impending doom starts well before the elevator ascends 400 feet, with characters hearing Johnny Cash sing about entering a burning ring of fire as they approach disaster. The ensuing scene leads to the most outrageous and humorous bloodbath the franchise has displayed on screen yet: everything that can go awry does, culminating in the most gruesome, inventive kill, reserved for the ten-year-old boy who appears to be the sole survivor. Judging by the spontaneous applause during my screening at this moment, Lipovsky and Stein could soon find themselves credited with crafting the most nihilistic crowd-pleaser in Hollywood history and achieving a high point for franchise set pieces.

      Returning to the present, we learn that this horrific event haunts Stefani (Kaitlyn Santa Juana), Iris’s granddaughter, who has been estranged from her family for years. Her fixation on preventing this disaster and tracing the survivors’ deaths over the subsequent years has branded her a pariah, which suits her just fine. Now portrayed by Gabrielle Rose, she has spent the last two decades in a remote forest house, striving to escape every potential death trap as the last survivor. It’s something you must simply accept that she resides in a home surrounded by various death traps designed to keep the outside world at bay. Recently diagnosed with cancer, effectively evading death through other means, the curse surprisingly transfers to her children—none of whom should have ever existed and all of whom have lived their lives eluding an impending fate they were unaware of. Initially skeptical, the family ultimately recognizes that they must unite to evade destiny as bizarre household accidents occur and the body count rises.

      Iris is characterized by her obsession with documenting grisly deaths, meticulously analyzing which groups survived catastrophic events in her extensive notebook. Fortunately, the film doesn’t delve too deeply into this aspect. The narrative structure of each film already demands a significant suspension of disbelief, making it understandable to disregard the idea of linking them all through one fixated survivor; instead of focusing on legacy-sequel solemnity, it reminds us that this is a game the grim reaper relishes.

      This simplicity is precisely what keeps these films fresh, despite significant gaps between entries ensuring they don’t fade into relics of a bygone teen horror era. It provides filmmakers with an almost blank canvas to experiment, utilizing everyday items or mundane activities as the foundation for set pieces. Although these scenes often resemble genre parodies—eliciting laughter rather than genuine fright—they are crafted with enough creativity to ensure that viewers will never look at certain objects the same way again. Perhaps the most enduring legacy of this franchise is not the films themselves but the way people ask, “Have you ever seen Final Destination?” when logging trucks, tanning beds, or dental visits are mentioned in casual conversations. From MRI scanners to vending machines and