Can You Survive ‘Until Dawn’ — or At Least the Credits?  

The film is an adaptation of the 2015 video game set in a decrepit town in the woods.

"Until Dawn" is an adaptation from the 2015 video game. (Courtesy of Screen Gems, Inc. and TSG Entertainment)
"Until Dawn" is an adaptation from the 2015 video game. (Courtesy of Screen Gems, Inc. and TSG Entertainment)

Directed by David Sandberg, “Until Dawn” is the latest theatrical video game adaptation to spit in the face of its influence.

Derived from the titular 2015 survival horror video game, “Until Dawn” isn’t merely an adaptation but a spinoff story set in the game’s world — similar to the 2024 “Fallout” series. Despite releasing close to the divisive “A Minecraft Movie,” “Until Dawn” still manages to be the more abysmal adaptation.

The game emphasizes storytelling and dialogue choice over character control, making it a seemingly easy choice for adaptation. However, without the game’s interactive elements, what remains is a mundane narrative failing to offer anything distinctive.

One year after her sister Melanie’s disappearance, Clover and four friends journey to Melanie’s last known whereabouts — a decaying town secluded in the woods. While exploring the deserted visitor center, they find themselves repeatedly killed by an enigmatic masked figure and reset to the start of their evening in a time loop.

To escape with their lives, each member must survive “until dawn.”

“Until Dawn” suffers from the same weak spots as “Happy Death Day” and “Bodies Bodies Bodies,” being a mundane thriller weighed down by poor writing, tired cliches and little fear factor.

To its credit, the film expands on the time loop concept by introducing new twists to each passing night. Mysterious buildings appear, zombie-like wendigos spawn and the group gradually transforms into monstrous versions of themselves the longer they stay.

Despite the effort, these elements are ultimately buried beneath the poor writing, which prioritizes forced humor at the expense of tone and character development.

While each death is depicted in gruesome detail, they’re treated more as punchlines than brutal ends. The secluded house crafts an eerie setting, with numerous doors leading to branching corridors bathed in darkness. This could build real tension, if not for the cheap barrage of jumpscares around every corner.

Clover (Ella Rubin) and her ex-boyfriend Max (Michael Cimino) are the only ones with any actual chemistry. The remaining characters — Megan, Nina and Abe — are reduced to banal archetypes with no emotional depth.

Megan (Ji-young Yoo) is a medium who taps into the house’s energy to uncover clues and communicate with the dead. Abe (Belmont Cameli) constantly makes snide remarks and sacrifices others, yet somehow earns forgiveness in the end. Nina (Odessa A’zion) is left awkwardly lingering amongst the ensemble, with little to contribute.

The clumsy writing and one-note performances render the characters inauthentic. Given that Supermassive Games, the developer behind the series, has faced criticism for weak storytelling in the past, the adaptation is at least true to its roots.

After a dozen brutal resets, the crew ultimately wake up and find themselves on their 13th attempt — which no previous visitor has survived — with faulty memories, unaware of their previous attempts. While the reveal is initially unsettling, it makes little sense as the characters have learned nothing to aid in survival.

Each night is filled with characters dying in over-the-top manners, rarely introducing anything that drives the plot home. Even when the film establishes a way forward, it rarely materializes.

One night, Megan discovers the hideout of the antagonist Dr. Hill (Peter Stormare), though they aren’t able to reach him. A few nights later, she discovers his whereabouts again through entirely different means. Another night ends with the camera panning towards sketches of werewolves before lingering on the full moon, though the monsters never appear.

These continuity breaks highlight the scattershot structure of “Until Dawn.” Rather than adapting the video game, the film is too timid to introduce new ideas and instead leans on shallow references to preserve the game’s branding.

“Until Dawn,” rated R, is in theaters now.

  • Matt Sorce is a second-year forensic science major with a minor in criminal justice. When not reviewing music, he’s pretending to study in Cudahy.

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