Final Destination Bloodlines – Review

Watching any Final Destination movie has always carried a certain morbid appeal, like thumbing through a Rube Goldberg machine built by a twisted serial killer high on drugs. Yet, there’s an irresistible tension baked into every frame, as audiences scan every background object and surroundings like a hawk, wondering which innocuous item, from coffee mug, shower curtain, or loose screw will initiate the next fatal domino effect. In this franchise, horror fans don’t show up for mere jump scares or creepy masks – they remain fixated as Death acts like a petty, vindictive bastard with a flair for the dramatic.

After a 14-year hiatus, Final Destination Bloodlines picks up the scythe and runs on the premise of initially escaping death, but suffering a subsequent gory death. The five-film series, long known for its deadly chain reactions and creative demise sequences, finds new momentum not by reinventing the wheel, but by rewinding it. Director Zach Lipovsky and Adam B. Stein (both of 2018 sci-fi thriller Freaks fame) take a bold structural swing by setting the opening disaster in the 1960s and revisiting the fallout five decades later, as a new group of doomed descendants uncover they were basically born to die. 

Instead of relying on a familiar premonition-accident-chase formula, there’s a renewed sense of patience in how Bloodlines draws out the kills, baiting the audience with false leads and fake-outs before snapping into shockingly gory payoffs with a slightly sadistic smile and some of the best practical effects in the series to date. We open in 1968 with a view from the top… literally. A sky-rise restaurant perched like a glass bulb atop a narrow stalk sets the scene for a high-society celebration, complete with champagne flutes, brittle pleasantries, and Iris (Brec Bassinger, Stargirl) fielding a marriage proposal she’s not quite ready to answer. 

Johnny Cash’s “Ring of Fire” crackles through the speakers, setting an ominous tone that the audience, seasoned by now in Final Destination’s twisted foreplay, knows not to ignore. Cracks begin to spiderweb across windows, elevators stall, and within minutes, an architectural marvel turns into a meat grinder. It’s a spectacular opening, maybe the most viscerally satisfying since the freeway pileup of 2003’s Final Destination 2. Directors Lipovsky and Stein orchestrate the chaos with gleeful precision, building tension with fake-outs and camera feints before unleashing a disaster so over-the-top it practically begs for applause.

Fifty-seven years later, the only survivor of that ill-fated dinner is Iris again, now played with brittle determination by Gabrielle Rose (Virgin River), who has spent decades hiding out in what’s supposed to be a fortified “safe house.” In reality, it looks like a Pinterest board of OSHA (Occupational Safety and Health Administration) violations – too many sharp corners, gas lines in questionable places, and more glass than good sense. Still, she’s alive, and convinced that her survival was earned, not stolen. The 1968 premonition she once had saved her life, and now, as a cruel joke, her granddaughter Stefani (Kaitlyn Santa Juana, The Flash) is seeing it, too. The dreams are vivid and repetitive, pulling her into a tragedy she’s never experienced but can feel down to her bones.

Stefani, a college student desperate for rest and clarity, returns to her estranged family in search of answers. What she finds is silence, resentment, and a gaping hole in the family story. Her father and uncle urge her to forget Iris entirely, warning that everything she touches ends in blood. Naturally, Stefani doesn’t listen and curiosity leads her deeper into the past, where she uncovers a generational feud with Death itself that never really ended, only waited.

Still, let’s not pretend anyone is here for the genealogy. Final Destination Bloodlines, which serves as a direct sequel to 2009’s original The Final Destination, understands exactly what franchise devotees crave – death with style. Where subsequent entries leaned on spectacle (plane crashes, roller coaster accidents, flaming tanning beds, etc), this one dials the chaos into mundanity. Everyday objects become weapons as innocent actions snowball into carnage. One particularly memorable set piece, staged during a suburban garden party, weaponises party favours and patio furniture with such gleeful malice that it could double as an accidental PSA (Public Service Announcement). It’s safe to say that audiences can never look at a compost bin the same way again. And that MRI (Magnetic Resonance Imaging) scene? Let’s just say it’s no advertisement for preventive healthcare.

Even as the film doubles down on grotesque fatalities, it never loses its wicked sense of humour because there’s something delightfully mean-spirited about how it toys with audience expectations. You might think you’ve identified the next unlucky victim, but Final Destination Bloodlines enjoys nothing more than misdirecting you into a false sense of security before snapping a wire, swinging a beam, or igniting a gas leak. It’s a reminder that in this franchise, no one is safe, and nothing is too ridiculous to kill you. That’s the charm.

More surprising is how Final Destination Bloodlines resists the reboot trap of over-explaining itself as it doesn’t try to untangle franchise lore or deliver some convoluted canon reshuffle. There are blink-and-you’ll-miss-it references to prior disasters, but they’re never intrusive. In fact, the only direct connection to the earlier films is the appearance of the late Tony Todd’s (Candyman) William Bludworth, the mysterious mortician whose presence has always hinted at something deeper behind the curtain.

Frail but commanding, Todd delivers a monologue that momentarily quiets the chaos. It’s a scene that hits harder than expected, because it’s clear we’re watching a farewell. The rasp in his voice, the flash of that sly grin, the heaviness behind every word – it’s all haunting in a way no death trap could match. As a tribute to Todd’s legacy, the moment is understated, elegant, and genuinely moving.

Among the rest of the cast, there are no obvious weak links, but Richard Harmon (The 100) stands out with just the right dose of gallows humour. Playing Stefani’s cousin Erik, he struts in with the energy of someone who’s seen every horror movie ever made and is more amused than afraid. His sardonic commentary might feel like it wandered over from Scream (1996), but it fits surprisingly well with Final Destination Bloodlines’ tonal approach that’s similar to 2011’s Final Destination 5: a little self-aware, a little unhinged, and very ready to crack wise before someone loses their head (often literally).

The film closes with a nod so twisted it feels like a dare. Yes, you’ve seen it before but no, you won’t be any less horrified. Final Destination Bloodlines is horror’s greasy spoon, offering no nutritional value, but somehow filled with exactly what your stomach desires. Deliciously gruesome, shamelessly inventive, and grotesquely satisfying, it’s the cinematic equivalent of watching someone fall face-first into a bear trap and wondering how they got there. The answer? Who cares. Roll credits.

Natalie

Natalie is a big fan of anything related to movies, TV shows, and anime — you name it. When she’s not reading or being a dedicated cinephile, she’s probably playing gacha and tabletop games, or daydreaming of Caleb from Love and Deepspace.