Ready or Not 2: Here I Come – Review

Ever since Samara Weaving’s blood-soaked Grace lit that cigarette at the end of Ready or Not, having outlasted a mansion full of self-destructing aristocrats, she has carried the kind of raw, unfiltered presence that modern horror rarely produces. There’s something almost primal in the way she howls, as though fear and fury are being dragged out of her in real time, and it’s that same energy that turned a darkly comic survival tale, which grossed US$57 million against its US$6 million budget, into something far more memorable. Grace clawed her way through a system built to consume her, and Weaving (The Babysitter) held it all together even as everything around her quite literally exploded.

Ready or Not 2: Here I Come wastes no time reminding audiences why that formula worked, as directors Matt Bettinelli-Olpin and Tyler Gillett of Scream (2022) and Scream VI (2023) fame push her into another round of vicious satire and gleeful, blood-soaked brutality. Picking up in the immediate aftermath, Grace barely has a moment to process her survival before she’s pulled straight back into chaos, still wrapped in the torn remnants of a wedding dress. Authorities arrive with questions, and Grace quickly finds herself a suspect, her version of events far too absurd to be believed – after all, explaining that your in-laws exploded because of a deal with the devil, aka Mr. Le Bail, doesn’t tend to hold up in a police report.

Power, it turns out, abhors a vacuum, and in this aptly titled sequel, that vacuum is quickly filled with another round of deadly hide and seek. Five rival, ruthless families step in, all vying for favour from Satan himself and Grace is now the prized target, and the key to a game that has grown far bigger than one cursed household. 

Dragged into the chaos is her estranged sister Faith, played by Kathryn Newton (Lisa Frankenstein) with a mix of exasperation and reluctant resolve, turning what was once a solo endurance run into something closer to a fractured family affair. Grace’s uneasy alliance with Faith introduces a different kind of tension, one that leans into questions of loyalty and abandonment without always finding the most convincing footing. Bickering replaces bonding for much of their shared screen time, with arguments circling back on themselves as they run, get caught, fight, and run again. Momentum never fully stalls (there’s always something happening), but repetition begins to show, with sequences occasionally falling into predictable rhythms.

And familiar rules apply, though the stakes have been dialled up – control of wealth, power, and influence now sits at the centre of the game, with each family treating murder like sport. It’s a setup that feels knowingly repetitive, yet horror has always thrived on repetition done well, and the sequel leans into that rhythm with confidence. New players enter the board with a certain theatrical flair, from Sarah Michelle Gellar’s (Buffy the Vampire Slayer) icy composure to Shawn Hatosy’s (The Pitt) simmering intensity, both standing out as early contenders in a field of predators dressed in privilege. Body horror legend David Cronenberg’s (The Fly) cameo adds a strange weight to the proceedings, while Elijah Wood (the Lord of the Rings franchise) finds space for a quieter, more unnerving performance as a devil-adjacent lawyer calmly explaining rules no sane person would agree to follow.

Luckily, there’s humour in the madness – a noticeable shift toward comedy runs through the sequel, with Bettinelli-Olpin and Gillett leaning further into the camp that simmered beneath the original, allowing the film to revel in its own excess without pretending otherwise. Many of the film’s would-be hunters prove hilariously inept, fumbling weapons or turning on one another at the first sign of danger, which opens the door for some of its most effective comic beats. Maia Jae’s (Seven Veils) Francesca emerges as a standout in that regard, particularly in a ballroom showdown with Grace that blends personal history with outright absurdity, set against the soaring vocals of Bonnie Tyler’s ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’ and punctuated, of all things, by a bazooka. It’s the kind of sequence that shouldn’t work and somehow does, capturing the series’ willingness to embrace the ridiculous without apology.

Excess extends beyond tone into something far more literal, with bloodshed dialled up to levels that border on parody. Around 325 gallons of fake blood being used begin to feel entirely believable once the film gets going, and specialised blood cannons ensure that every impact lands with theatrical force. It’s messy in a way that matches the film’s increasingly unhinged tone, but familiarity starts to creep in, particularly with the repeated use of the spontaneous combustion gag that once served as the original film’s final punchline. What was once a shocking payoff now appears with far less restraint, losing some of its impact each time another unfortunate disciple meets the same explosive end.

Pacing occasionally falters, moments stretch longer than they should, and subtlety rarely enters the room, but none of that feels entirely out of place within a film that wears its intentions so openly: a ride that invites audiences to sit back, brace themselves, and enjoy the carnage as it unfolds. 

What ultimately carries it through is Weaving, whose performance refuses to fade into the background no matter how chaotic things become. Grace has long since shed any illusion of normalcy, evolving into something closer to a force of nature – bruised, furious, and unwilling to go quietly, no matter how many times the game resets around her. Ready or not, the world keeps coming for her, armed with rules she never agreed to and stakes she never chose, yet she meets it all head-on anyway – bloodied, exhausted, and still standing, as if daring the game to try one more time.

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.