Black Phone 2 is a bold and daring sequel that delves heavily into the supernatural and nightmarish, trading some of the psychological subtlety of its predecessor for grander, bolder touches. Directed and co-written by Scott Derrickson (with C. Robert Cargill), the film picks up the story four years after the events of Black Phone 2, revisiting the horrors of The Grabber in a new era and with higher stakes. At its core, Black Phone 2 is as much about trauma, family, and faith as it is about gore and supernatural horror, and in attempting this amalgamation, it delivers both thrilling moments and shocking missteps.
The plot reintroduces us to Finney Blake (Mason Thames), now 17, struggling to live with the weight of being the sole survivor who killed The Grabber years before. He's haunted not only by memories, but also by the persistent whispers of the black phone itself: a spectral line connecting him to past victims and a sinister force beyond death. His younger sister, Gwen (Madeleine McGraw), becomes the focus this time: tormented by horrific visions of mutilated children beneath the frozen ice and cryptic calls in her subconscious, she becomes convinced these dreams are connected to a winter camp where their mother worked.
Director: Scott Derrickson
Writers: C. Robert Cargill, Scott Derrickson, Joe Hill
Stars: Mason Thames, Ethan Hawke, Madeleine McGraw
She drags Finney to the isolated, snow-covered Alpine Lake camp in search of answers and to confront the evil that seems as active as ever. The film's villain, the Grabber (played again by Ethan Hawke), has evolved: his presence now extends beyond death, his abilities into the world of dreams. It's a tactic that turns the already gruesome story of the first film into something more extreme, more monstrous, more vivid.
From a technical standpoint, one of the film's most striking features is its visual language. Derrickson fully embraces the aesthetic of analog horror—blurred 8mm-style footage, shaky camera movements, dreamlike sequences that dissolve and fragment—to evoke a sense of temporal dislocation, as if the viewer has tuned into a cursed VHS tape found in a long-forgotten thrift store. This imagery is particularly prominent in sequences where Gwen answers the phone or ventures into surreal environments: the atmosphere, intermittent and unsettling, often surpasses the exposition in its power to chill.
One standout moment shows Finney in a phone booth, standing before a snowy void, as the camera spirals to reveal ghostly apparitions adorning the landscape; a sequence that captures the film's ambition to make the audience complicit through cinematography. The snowy camp also plays to Derrickson's strengths: cold, austere, claustrophobic despite its stark whiteness. Tension flourishes in those silent moments, when only the echoing footsteps or a crack in the ice break the silence. However, the film is not without its narrative and tonal challenges.
One criticism that emerges in multiple reviews is the part where Black Phone 2 focuses too much on explanation. A lengthy section midway through the film functions as expositional scaffolding—detailing the camp's history, Grabber lore, and Gwen's connection to her mother's visions—and, in doing so, sacrifices momentum. Roger Ebert critic Brian Tallerico notes that the film is "a bit too long and has too much expositional section" for a horror story that works best when it relies on visuals over dialogue.
In fact, when the film focuses on telling rather than showing, it loses some of the terror that its early scenes so promisingly establish. Several critics have also pointed to the insertion of overt Christian themes—characters invoking Jesus, discussing heaven, or engaging in faith-based dialogue—as tonally clunky and underdeveloped.
In Dread Central's Fantastic Fest review, the fusion of slasher violence with moments of religious moralizing is described as having a "peculiarly Christian after-school energy," with lines like "I think it's cool that you talk to Jesus" underscoring a strange thematic shift. This tension between the sacred and the profane sometimes jars rather than enriches, and can distract more than illuminate. Other voices echo this: Slant Magazine describes the collapse of dreams and reality as seductive but cautions that certain motifs feel borrowed and overwrought. Bloody Disgusting, meanwhile, praises the cast and vision but notes that the film, for all its ambition, doesn't always hit its target.
As for the performances, Black Phone 2 stands out for its strengths. Madeleine McGraw's Gwen anchors the film with a quiet ferocity, conveying both vulnerability and determination, and providing a strong emotional core. Mason Thames, as Finney, grappling with survivor's guilt and anger, acquits himself well when the script allows him to inhabit quiet grief, even if some dialogue pushes him into more stereotypical "traumatized teen" territory.
Ethan Hawke, who returns as the Grabber, is at once repulsive, magnetic, and disconcertingly venomous, especially when he invokes his power in the dream realms. Critics across various outlets note that bringing Hawke back, despite his character's death, is one of the film's boldest moves, but it remains one of its strongest points. The cast is rounded out by Demián Bichir (Armando, the camp supervisor) and Arianna Rivas (Mustang), who bring a solid presence to a narrative that increasingly distances itself from realism. But even with this cast, the film occasionally falters when the dialogue becomes too didactic or clumsy, a criticism echoed in multiple reviews.
In terms of its success compared to the original, Black Phone 2 is controversial but ambitious. On Rotten Tomatoes, it has a respectable 80% Tomatometer score (based on 25 reviews) and is characterized by being closely connected to its predecessor, yet possessing its own identity. Many reviews hail it as an improvement: GamesRadar notes that it is "tremendous" and "nightmarish," and even Stephen King reportedly prefers the sequel. The narrative shift—from the confined horror of the basement kidnapping of the first film to the open, dreamlike wilderness of the winter camp—indicates a desire to expand the mythology.
Roger Ebert's review describes the film as a conscious homage to A Nightmare on Elm Street, but one that's done boldly enough to feel like its own. Dread Central argues that it "goes completely wild, as only a supernatural slasher can," though it also warns of tonal inconsistency. Some critics feel the sequel fails to capture the quiet, chilling terror of the first; they point to the disciplined tension and relative restraint of the first as a reference point the sequel sometimes overlooks. In Reddit's "Review Thread," one user summarizes a common criticism: "The biggest criticism I see is that it borrows too much from A Nightmare on Elm Street." However, many fans celebrate this borrowing, seeing it as a natural evolution of Grabber's mythology: from deadly masked killer to dream-invading terror.
Thematically, Black Phone 2 grapples with the nature of evil, the lingering echoes of trauma, brotherly devotion, and the possibility of transcendent faith. The film posits that evil, once unleashed, can escape its bounds; that trauma survives not only in memory, but in the very essence of dreams. Gwen's visions of children trapped in ice and the black phone's ability to traverse time suggest that the past is always present and that, to heal, one must confront not only the monster, but also the family legacy. Faith and prayer intertwine in this confrontation, suggesting that spiritual belief could be as powerful a tool as fear. That said, the combination of horror and religiosity doesn't always feel seamless; at times, the message feels more like an overlay than an integration.
Black Phone 2 stumbles when it relies too heavily on explanation or morals, but it soars in moments when it abandons narrative restraint in favor of visuals, terror, and sensory immersion. Its strengths lie in scenes that defy expectations: a kitchen sequence that transforms domestic terror into a supernatural confinement, an attack on a phone booth that ratchets up the tension through rotating camera tricks, and ice sequences that evoke both fairy tale terror and classic horror movie showdowns. The film's willingness to push boundaries—in gore, tone, genre-blending—is admirable, even if it doesn't always succeed.
For those who enjoyed The Black Phone for its tension, restraint, and precise focus, Black Phone 2 may seem like a leap of faith, sometimes thrilling, sometimes over-the-top. But for those open to the film's ambitions, it delivers a richly textured horror sequel that isn't afraid to play with time, faith, imagery, and fear in equal measure. Ultimately, it may not be perfect, but it demonstrates the audacity a horror sequel needs to be worthwhile.
Comments
Post a Comment