In 2006, I eagerly attended the first showing of Christophe Gans’ Silent Hill. I loved Silent Hill 2, but was ready to mock the film, as video game adaptations to that point had been underwhelming, to say the least. In one scene, protagonist Rose checked her map, and I leaned over to my friend and said, “Now she just needs to check the map every few seconds to make it really feel like Silent Hill.” To my surprise, Rose proceeded to check the map on every block as she made it to her destination.
The movie leading up to that scene and the rest following it is generally forgettable, but that moment made me pause and realize that Gans had in fact played Silent Hill, and was probably even a fan.
Zach Cregger’s Resident Evil made me recall that moment from Silent Hill. A moment that expressed the feeling of playing Silent Hill more than just being a direct adaptation of the property.
As promised by Cregger in multiple interviews promoting the film, Resident Evil contains very few overt references to the larger Resident Evil franchise. It primarily takes place in Raccoon City, the Umbrella Corporation is acknowledged, there is a typewriter, and protagonist Bryan uses Heavy Field brand shotgun shells. That’s about it. But the whole film expertly expresses the feeling of playing a Resident Evil game. The intense, terrifying highs, the cathartic moments of catching your breath, the frantic pace, the moments of failure as a player, the reward of simply figuring things out, and even building your skill over the course of the game finally paying off in the end.
The movie follows Bryan on the worst night of his life. He is a normal guy (who doesn’t know how to use a gun) trying to make some money on a delivery job while managing his feelings during an emotionally tense event currently affecting his girlfriend and himself.
And then he gets stuck in a Resident Evil game – and there is no Leon to whisk him away on a jet ski.
From that point forward, Bryan reacts to everything not as a Resident Evil protagonist, but as a player of the games. He stares wide-eyed at unbelievable biological horrors; cannot stop comically swearing as he sprints full speed away from danger; screams at embarrassing pitches when monsters leap from the shadows; makes myriad mistakes; searches rooms for anything that could help him; knows he shouldn’t open that scary door even though he has to; is constantly wasting ammo; and during one of my favorite moments, accidentally gets rid of an item he absolutely needed. The whole debacle (which lasts a sublime 90 minutes) is intense, scary, fun, and most surprisingly, often hilarious.
Director Zach Creggor and Austin Abrams, who plays Bryan, nail a very important element of Resident Evil that I believe no other Resident Evil movie has been able to figure out: you can’t take this too seriously. Resident Evil is absurd. The Resident Evil characters are the Leslie Nielsons of this Naked Gun horror universe, and we as the players are the ones that get to scream and laugh and have a good time. Bryan is our stand-in in Creggor’s adaptation, and I love it for that.
I don’t need all video game adaptations to be like this. There is undeniable joy in seeing specific elements of a property you love getting the Hollywood investment and being projected on a big screen. I have no idea if it will be good or bad, but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t excited for the Zelda movie next year. But I love that the emotional experience of playing a Resident Evil game has been so expertly translated into a film here. It officially unseats my previous favorite video game film adaptation, which was, of course, Josh Ruben’s 2021 take on everyone’s favorite Ubisoft game, Werewolves Within.
