Video game adaptations are notorious for failing to capture the spirit of their source material. But with Until Dawn (2025), director David F. Sandberg (Lights Out, Annabelle: Creation) defies expectations and delivers a chilling, stylish, and emotionally-driven horror experience that stands on its own—even for those unfamiliar with the cult-classic 2015 game. This film is not just a remake or rehash; it’s a clever reimagining, part character drama, part creature feature, and part psychological descent into guilt, trauma, and survival instinct.
Plot Summary: Return to the Mountain
Set ten years after the events of the original Until Dawn, the movie introduces a new cast of characters while smartly weaving in the legacy of the past. Samantha “Sam” Gable (portrayed by Florence Pugh), the only survivor from the original group, has spent the last decade trying to rebuild her life after the horrors she witnessed at Blackwood Mountain. But when a tech company buys the abandoned lodge to convert it into an immersive VR retreat, she’s invited to the re-opening ceremony to endorse the project—and reluctantly returns.
Joining her is a younger, thrill-seeking group of influencers, survivalists, and investors—none of whom believe the stories about creatures in the woods or ghosts in the mines. But the mountain hasn’t forgotten. As a blizzard cuts them off from civilization, strange events unfold: guests begin to disappear, messages are carved into walls, and an unseen predator stalks the forest once more.
When Sam discovers signs that the Wendigos are not only real—but evolving, she must confront her past and decide how far she’s willing to go to protect those who still don’t understand the nightmare they’ve stepped into.
Atmosphere: Cold, Claustrophobic, and Beautifully Bleak
From its opening scene, Until Dawn oozes atmosphere. The cinematography embraces the snowy isolation of Blackwood Mountain, using vast white landscapes to make the characters feel increasingly small, fragile, and doomed. Interior scenes inside the restored lodge balance luxury with unease—candlelight dances on polished wood while shadows hint at lurking figures.
Unlike many modern horror films that rely heavily on jump scares, Until Dawn builds dread slowly. We hear distant whispers in the wind, see silhouettes that vanish when lights flicker, and feel tension simmering beneath casual conversations. The horror isn’t immediate—it’s always approaching.
Characters and Performances
Florence Pugh is the heart of the film. Her portrayal of Sam—older, traumatized, but fiercely determined—grounds the film emotionally. She doesn’t scream her way through the movie. She strategizes. She remembers. She fights back. There’s a poignant scene midway through where she confesses she still hears the cries of her friends every time it snows, and it lands with heartbreaking weight.
Among the supporting cast, rising star Mason Gooding plays Eli, a skeptical yet charismatic YouTuber whose arrogance slowly crumbles as the horror becomes real. Sophie Thatcher (Yellowjackets) shines as Maddie, a sharp-tongued urban explorer who has her own dark reasons for returning to the mountain.
Importantly, the film takes time to flesh out these characters—not just as bodies to be picked off, but as real people with secrets, regrets, and emotional baggage. That’s what elevates the terror: we care when things go wrong.
The Horror: A Mix of Myth, Survival, and Madness
The Wendigos—native folklore creatures representing spiritual cannibalism—return with terrifying intensity. Rather than relying solely on CGI, the production uses a blend of practical effects, contortionist actors, and minimalist glimpses to enhance realism. These aren’t just monsters—they’re tragic, hungry souls, twisted by human suffering.
But the true horror of Until Dawn lies not just in the creatures, but in the choices the characters make. Like the game, the film leans into themes of consequence: who you trust, when you act, and whether you run or stay. There’s no singular “villain”—only decisions that spiral out of control.
The use of hallucinations and unreliable perspective makes the audience question what’s real. Are all the horrors supernatural? Or is guilt driving these characters mad? One haunting sequence shows a character reliving a death they caused—over and over—until they no longer know whether they escaped it.
Criticism: A Bit Too Dense
If there’s a flaw, it’s that the film tries to juggle a bit too much in its final act. In tying together trauma, survival horror, ancient myth, and tech-industry satire, the narrative gets tangled. A few characters are underused, particularly the ones introduced later in the film, and some storylines (like the corporate angle) feel slightly undercooked compared to the rest.
Still, these are minor issues in a film that otherwise delivers gripping storytelling, sharp direction, and a rare sense of dread that lingers long after the credits roll.
Ending and Sequel Tease: "You Didn’t See Them All"
The ending is satisfyingly ambiguous. Sam makes a final stand, but not all questions are answered. In a post-credit scene, an underground lab is shown—hidden deep beneath the mountain. A man in a hazmat suit reviews footage from a hidden camera. On the screen: a Wendigo, looking directly into the lens.
A voice says, “Subject 13 is showing signs of intelligence.”
Fade to black.
The sequel? All but confirmed.
Final Verdict: Until Dawn Is a Smart, Scary Triumph
Until Dawn (2025) isn’t just a horror movie. It’s a reflection on memory, guilt, and what it means to survive something you can never explain. With strong performances, inventive horror set-pieces, and rich emotional themes, it transcends its game origins and becomes a standout entry in modern horror cinema.
Rating: 8.5/10 — Haunting, thoughtful, and thrilling from start to finish.
