Until Dawn

Until Dawn (2025), directed by David F. Sandberg, is one of those projects that sounds more promising on paper than it turns out to be on screen. The concept, loosely adapted from the 2015 video game of the same name, is intriguing: a group of teenagers trapped in a cycle of death and resurrection, forced to relive the same terrifying night in an isolated mountain cabin. With each reset, the narrative suggests new possibilities—not just for survival, but for shifts in tone, style, and horror subgenres. Yet what begins as a love letter to the interactive potential of horror quickly becomes a film that flirts with creativity without ever truly committing to it.

Sandberg, known for Annabelle: Creation and Shazam!, directs with technical competence but lacks the boldness the material demands. The time-loop structure could have allowed for a constant reinvention of atmosphere—something the original video game achieved through moral choices and consequences. In the film, that narrative plurality dissolves. There are attempts to shift gears: from classic slasher to ghost story, from possession to body horror. But everything feels shallow, like disconnected episodes in a rushed anthology. The screenplay by Blair Butler and Gary Dauberman doesn’t explore the narrative tool organically, using repetition more as a gimmick than a meaningful engine of transformation.

The performances reflect this tonal indecision. Ella Rubin, as Clover, delivers an earnest performance, especially in moments where the film tries to tap into past trauma and moral dilemmas. There’s a genuine attempt to humanize her and emotionally link her to the cycle of death. Michael Cimino plays Max, her ex-boyfriend, with intensity but without much room for nuance. Ji-young Yoo, however, stands out as Megan, a psychic character who seems to understand the loop’s nature more deeply than the others. She brings subtlety and tension with glances and silences that hint at layers the script doesn’t fully explore. The rest of the cast oscillates between caricature and function, mostly fulfilling the genre role of disposable victims in a story that, despite its ambition, often chooses the path of least resistance.

That said, there are undeniable strengths. Maxime Alexandre’s cinematography creates visually striking moments, particularly in scenes involving the mysterious hourglass that dictates the time limit of each cycle. The snowy forest setting and decaying cabin add to the feeling of isolation, and the practical effects used in many of the death scenes are effective—stylishly gory and reminiscent of classic B-horror. The sound design also deserves praise, using silence and subtle noise to build tension in claustrophobic sequences.

The film’s biggest flaw is its hesitation to dive deep into the narrative possibilities it sets up. The repetition structure is a rare gift in genre cinema—few films know how to fully exploit it. Groundhog Day did it with comedy; Run Lola Run with action; Palm Springs with romance and existentialism. In Until Dawn, repetition becomes an excuse for varied kill scenes rather than a tool for meaningful character evolution. With each reset, the viewer expects changing choices, transforming personalities, deeper revelations. Instead, the film delivers more of the same, just dressed differently.

One standout moment comes when Clover, after multiple loops, confronts her sister—transformed into a grotesque wendigo-like creature—and tricks Dr. Hill, played by Peter Stormare, into breaking the cycle. This scene brings together emotional and physical horror in a way the rest of the film only hints at. It finally merges supernatural tension with personal trauma. Unfortunately, the emotional impact of this climax is undercut by the narrative fatigue built up beforehand, and while the resolution is visually satisfying, it can’t undo the flatness of what came before.

In the end, Until Dawn presents itself as a modern video game adaptation with ambitions to explore nonlinear storytelling and genre subversion. But what it delivers is a collection of generic scares wrapped in a stylized, youth-oriented package—well-intentioned but emotionally hollow. For casual horror fans, it may offer a fun time, especially with its inventive deaths and the charismatic presence of Peter Stormare. For more attentive viewers, there’s the frustration of seeing a rich concept handled superficially. And for those who played the original game, the experience serves mostly to highlight how differently the same premise can play out in two media with very different storytelling powers.

Until Dawn (2025 / United States)
Direction: David F. Sandberg
Screenplay: Blair Butler, Gary Dauberman
Cast: Ella Rubin, Michael Cimino, Odessa A’zion, Ji-young Yoo, Belmont Cameli, Maia Mitchell, Peter Stormare
Running Time: 103 min.