Let's be honest: The Black Phone 2 exists for one reason - to fill the producers' pockets. The first one made bank, so they figured, "Let's call the dead again, it's profitable." Problem is, Hollywood's been resurrecting corpses so often it's starting to look like a coke-fueled séance. The original was tight, creepy, and perfectly wrapped up - the kind of story that should've stayed hung up. But no, they had to pick up the receiver again. The result? A sequel that drags its feet like a teenager on a Monday morning.
We find Finney still traumatized, and his sister Gwen with more psychic energy than an entire season of Ghost Whisperer. The black phone starts ringing again - this time, in their dreams. Great idea on paper, but the execution flows about as smoothly as a dial-up connection in 2002. You can feel the writers forcing every twist, like they're propping up a corpse with strings. The intro drags on forever, and you just want to yell, "For God's sake, make the damn phone ring already!"
Ethan Hawke returns as The Grabber - the sadistic, masked boogeyman with the elegance of a homicidal priest - and damn, he's still terrifying. His quiet menace, that eerie control, that vibe of "I'll strangle you, but politely"... it all works. The tragedy is he's barely there. The film treats him like DLC content someone forgot to download. He carried the first movie on his back, but here he's more ghost than villain, and ironically, the film dies the second he vanishes.
Scott Derrickson does his job, though. His direction is sharp, the atmosphere grimy and suffocating, the archival footage still creepy as hell. He knows how to make you squirm without tossing a screamer in your face every ten seconds. It's genuine horror filmmaking, not "fast-horror" for Red Bull-fueled teens. The issue is the story - it just doesn't move. It spins its wheels like a rerun of last season, only foggier and with fewer ideas.
And then there's the ending. The big finale that's supposed to crush you. It doesn't. It happens, it fizzles, and it's gone. No tension, no real payoff, just a limp attempt at emotion. You walk out feeling like someone hung up before the last ring. Shame, because with a bit more guts, that ending could've saved the film. Instead, it leaves a stale "been there, seen that" aftertaste.
The Black Phone 2 is like calling your ex out of loneliness: you know it's a bad idea, but you do it anyway. And of course, you hang up disappointed. Sure, the direction's clean, Ethan Hawke is still monstrous - but the rest reeks of creative exhaustion. It's not a disaster, it's just pointless. Like horror cinema refusing to follow its own advice: sometimes, it's better not to pick up.
