In the long history of utterly unnecessary horror sequels, a special place must be carved out for “Don’t Breathe 2.” The 2016 original was a nasty but serviceable home invasion thriller, directed with a modicum of skill by Fede Alvarez. However, if horror sequels (like comedy sequels) are plagued with the inherent difficulty of replicating the element of surprise so essential to their genre, a “Don’t Breathe” follow-up is in particular peril. Simply put, most of what made that film noteworthy was the ingenuity of its shocking twist, in which Norman Nordstrom (Stephen Lang), the blind homeowner who seemed the sympathetic victim of a sloppy home invasion, was revealed to be a far sicker puppy than any of the film’s ostensible villains. And thus, Alvarez and Rodo Sayagues’ script turns itself inside out midway through, causing the viewer to rethink their sympathies and assumptions.
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But “Don’t Breathe 2” can’t recreate that inversion – we already know Nordstrom’s dark secret, so there’s nowhere for the character (or the filmmakers) to go. And thus we have a dull retread, ceaseless in its grimness, stupidity, and incoherence.
Specifically, regarding the latter charge: the film opens with an unexplained image of a house on fire, and a little girl running away and falling to the ground. Then the screen fills with the text “EIGHT YEARS LATER,” and we see that girl, now a pre-teen named Phoenix (Madelyn Grace), running through the woods, chased by a vicious dog, in some kind of mysterious “training” from Nordstrom, her father. Watching this all unfurl, one would naturally attempt to connect what was happening here to the events of the first film—was there a fire? There was a daughter, whom he loved, who was killed in a car accident. So, is this some kind of villain origin story of how he lost the daughter he loved?
Well, no, because then, several scenes later, he offhandedly mentions, “I already lost a daughter once.” That’s just before a trio of scumbags descend on their home – what’re the odds, right? Another home invasion? Rotten luck, that! Long story short, it’s a full forty-five minutes (nearly the halfway point) into the film before we get the full explanation of what the hell is happening, at least in relation to the original film. That is an excruciatingly long time to leave your audience fumbling around in the dark.
Since it’s framed as a big reveal – a half-hearted attempt, seemingly, to replicate the shocking twist of the original – the plot summarizing will be left at that. Suffice it to say, the script, again penned by Alvarez and Sayagues (though the latter takes over directorial duties from the former), is a mishmash of leftover action beats and clumsy foreshadowing: the screen-filling news report about an organ trafficking ring, the lingering close-ups of gas tanks in the basement, the way Phoenix keeps carefully and clearly saying the name of a shelter for wayward youths.
Sayagues isn’t without his filmmaking gifts. He moves the camera with precision, and puts up one genuinely great set-piece, as Phoenix realizes their home is being invaded and repeatedly evades her potential attackers in what looks like one long, unbroken shot. And there are fleeting moments that successfully revisit the promise of the original premise: that a tough blind man could use his heightened senses and familiarity with his surroundings to best his sighted attackers.
Lang deserves credit; he’s a skilled actor, and he creates a real character in his gruff speech and brooding silences. And Grace does her best to decode Phoenix’s whiplash-inducing motivations. But the bad guys have not a single identifiable personality trait among them, save for their frequent use of “bro” (compare those flat characterizations to, say, something like “Panic Room”), and as their leader, poor Brendan Sexton III spittles and fumes and does his best to channel Gary Oldman in “Leon” (including an all-but-direct quote of that film’s most meme-ed moment), to little effect.
But the picture is hobbled by the bland, lifeless color palette of too much contemporary genre filmmaking, as well as a buffet of unintentionally hilarious dialogue, and when the big third act reveal arrives, it’s comically dopey. And once that turn is taken, well, you can pretty much predict every beat that follows.
Most damagingly, “Don’t Breathe 2” never stakes out a position on its central character because it’s impossible to take one. Are we supposed to go back to rooting for him? After everything he did in the original? The filmmakers attempt to drum up something resembling sympathy for Nordstrom, primarily by situating their new villain as a far more insidious presence. But look, folks, we all remember the scene where he tried to impregnate that poor girl with a turkey baster. There’s no Notes app apology that’ll bounce you back from that. So when Alvarez and Sayagues go for a big emotional pay-off, and then (so help me God) a feel-good ending, it seems, to put it mildly, unearned.
Not every horror movie needs a sequel. Not every horror movie can support one. Sometimes, one and done is just fine. Maybe that’s is a wild idea in 2021 where franchises rule everything, but “Don’t Breathe 2” isn’t the film to prove that wrong. [D]
“Don’t Breathe 2” arrives in theaters on August 13.
