It has been surprising to see the level of dissatisfaction among Resident Evil enthusiasts regarding Zach Cregger’s film adaptation of the renowned survival horror franchise. Many have voiced their discontent on social media, asserting, “This isn’t a genuine Resident Evil movie.” Were we watching the same film? While it lacks the iconic characters such as Leon, Claire, and Ada Wong, along with recognizable villains and famous settings, Cregger’s version stands as one of the most compelling and faithful adaptations of a video game.
At its core, the film revolves around a virus that inadvertently escapes in Raccoon City, a project of the Umbrella Corporation—an essential aspect of the Resident Evil lore. More intriguingly, Cregger attempts to mirror and delve into the structural and narrative elements of the games. The protagonist, an unsuspecting courier named Bryan Hodukavich, is thrust into a chaotic viral outbreak without weapons or understanding of the situation. He plunges into a surreal landscape filled with growing danger and grotesque body horror. The film transports viewers through locations reminiscent of the games, including an old farmhouse, a congested tunnel, a hospital, and the necessary sewer level. Throughout his journey, Bryan acquires increasingly powerful weapons, from handguns to assault rifles, though he always finds himself low on ammunition. Additionally, typewriters make appearances in at least two scenes!
As in any Resident Evil game, Bryan’s comprehension of his surroundings is shaped through found items (such as voice recordings and emails) and brief, cryptic dialogues with non-playable characters. One notable scene in the tunnel features a recently infected girl who tells Bryan, “My mom bit me; I don’t know where she went.” This line encapsulates the essence of Resident Evil storytelling, delivering narrative context and an implied threat in just one concise sentence—the mother could be lurking close by, ready to attack.
Perhaps in response to online critiques, Cregger shared a video articulating his vision for the film, emphasizing his aim to reflect not only the fictional universe of the games but also the player’s experience—navigating through a world filled with ever-changing horror. Theories have also emerged suggesting that Bryan serves as a precursor to a true lead character, leaving behind clues, tips, and ammunition for someone more capable to take on.
In my opinion, the non-playable characters in early Resident Evil games often had the most compelling narratives: the lovable Barry Burton from the first game, the cowardly pilot Brad Vickers from Resident Evil 3, and the ubiquitous merchant from Resident Evil 4. As series creator Shinji Mikami once expressed, “I’m drawn to vulnerable characters, to ordinary humans. The horror experience becomes most terrifying when the player is uncertain about their character’s survival—death and survival must be in a constant balance. If there’s a scenario where you’re not entirely convinced you can evade or defeat the enemies, and there’s a chance of survival, that’s where the horror lies.” Bryan Hodukavich embodies this tension throughout the film.
Cregger’s interpretation of Resident Evil deserves to be viewed alongside other films like Kane Parsons’ Backrooms and Genki Kawamura’s Exit 8, which explore video game mechanics as much as they adapt narratives. These films immerse viewers in a nightmarish world governed by its own rules and characters, which viewers must gradually uncover. Cinema has long analyzed other forms of media, whether theater or superhero comics, and it is intriguing to witness video games receiving similar treatment. After all, video games represent a unique medium where the audience is both a spectator and a participant, navigating a world that feels both realistic and artificially constructed, complete with its signature yellow walls and barriers that prevent players from straying outside the designed environment.
So indeed, this is unquestionably a Resident Evil film—it simply shifts the focus away from Claire dispatching another zombie or Leon delivering a witty remark. Instead, it reveals the struggles of the overwhelmed citizens of Raccoon City, armed with perhaps three bullets, two lines of dialogue, and a voice recorder.
Initially launched as a browser game in 2010, the chaotic and humorous Happy Wheels is now available on Steam, retaining its absurdity. Players must navigate through a treacherous landscape using various vehicles, avoiding pitfalls and gruesome obstacles like chainsaws and spikes. With numerous levels to tackle and the option to create and share custom levels, it’s no surprise that the Steam version has caught the attention of 750,000 wishlisting players. This type of funny, experimental game thrived during the Flash era of the 2000s, and it’s delightful to see such a beloved classic return in its blood-soaked, clipart-style glory.
Meanwhile, it has been peculiar to observe Microsoft and Sony seemingly intensifying tensions with gamers amid concerns surrounding mass layoffs and the decline of physical media. Recently, the gaming site Respawn First uncovered a Microsoft patent aimed at serving advertisements to Xbox players during idle moments in games, such as loading screens or after defeating bosses. Not to be outdone, Sony has applied for a US patent for technology that would allow players to tap their phones or credit cards on a PlayStation controller for purchasing digital items. One might be forgiven for thinking that these more convenient advertising and monetization strategies might not be the best approach to addressing player concerns.
