Final Destination: Bloodlines isn't going to pull a rabbit out of its undead hat, reinvent the horror wheel, or stake its claim as a genre-defining masterstroke-but that's not the point.
What it does do is breathe new life into a franchise that felt like it had run out of steam. Bloodlines is a solid sixth installment, packing the same patented "inevitable death" mechanics we know and (occasionally) love, but with enough fresh twists to keep die-hard fans from checking out.
If you never warmed to the idea of "death's design" calling the shots, this won't convert you. For everyone else, the film delivers brilliantly choreographed set pieces of grisly demise-think elaborate Rube Goldberg traps drenched in splatter FX-that hit the sweet spot between macabre creativity and good old-fashioned gore.
The biggest upgrade this time around is emotional buy-in: the victims aren't a bunch of arbitrary strangers thrown together by fate. Instead, Bloodlines builds sincere rapport with its core ensemble, giving each death a bit more narrative weight (and, yes, a smidge of pathos) before the inevitable payoff.
Unfortunately, the dialogue remains as thin as ever-flat exposition one moment, telenovela melodrama the next-reminding you that subtlety wasn't high on the call sheet.
On the plus side, the movie leavens the carnage with genuinely funny, ironically staged moments-many courtesy of Erik, whose over-the-top flair steals scenes from our so-called protagonist-and the delightfully absurd chain reactions (who knew the garbage truck could be such a menace?).
Even though the film trudges into its predictable finale with all the subtlety of a wrecking ball, Bloodlines is pure adrenaline: brutal, energetic, and darkly comedic. In other words, exactly what you paid for when you bought that Final Destination ticket.
