Reviews

I avoided watching this for the first week it was out. Frankly, I was scared and ready to be disappointed. From the trailer that seemed mismatched to the tone of the franchise I've grown up loving and idealizing despite its flaws, to the the knowledge that prominent game characters are either absent or fundamentally changed from the source material, I cringed at what appeared to be yet another haphazard attempt at adapting something that, frankly, shouldn't be that hard to adapt.

I'm happy to say that I was not only wrong, but pleasantly surprised at how faithful to the source material this was given how fundamentally different it looks at first glance. To illustrate this, I'll be comparing the series ("RE:N (for Netflix)") to the 2021 film "Resident Evil: Welcome to Raccoon City" ("RC") for this review.

Superficially, RC featured things we've been wanting in a Resident Evil movie for years: an adaption of both the Spencer mansion from the first game, as well as the events in Raccoon City from the second game. The film featured adapted versions of beloved characters, as well as some iconic monsters. Oh, and slow zombies. We also saw the likes of Lisa Trevor, themed keys from Resident Evil 2, STARS, the RPD, a bit of the Redfield siblings, on top of a somewhat unique interpretation of the Umbrella / Raccoon City relationship. Even with some of the changes made to smush two games' worth of story into a movie that was under two hours, on paper this can sound like a pretty faithful adaptation.

Unfortunately, RC was plagued with non-existent character depth, a script that needed several more drafts, and really questionable choices when it comes to cinematography and CGI. Even with some of the familiar plot beats and set pieces from the first two games, the movie itself didn't feature compelling characterizations, tension, or writing.

Despite sharing little in the way of existing characters, RE:N succeeds in featuring strong performances, a compelling (and somewhat original) narrative that technically exists within both the real world and some version of the game canon, and most importantly, solid writing. It's a dual narrative in the style of many recent shows, telling two different stories in two different time periods, bouncing back and forth between the two as it progresses.

For the most part, this works. Despite some questionable decisions by the adult version of main character Jade, I thought characters were well developed in their motivations, and the world they inhabited felt realized and lived in. For a show that is not only adapting the tone and lore or a long running series that has a convoluted storyline, the show manages to naturally present the lore while introducing both a post apocalyptic world in one narrative while illustrating the complex history of a shady pharmaceutical giant and the city/people it owns. This is a lot for one show to tackle and introduce in eight episodes, and while some subplots (like the journalist's storyline) seem to fizzle out, they all feel like they naturally belong in the world that this show creates.

A YouTuber by the name of Ink Ribbon - another Resident Evil diehard - wisely pointed out that this show captures the vibe of the "files" players read in the games when exploring the environments; I.e., stories of characters wrapped up in the nefarious world of Umbrella. The show does this by seeding and threading elements of suspense, mystery, action, and horror, all centered around sisters Jade and Billie, the daughters of this show's interpretation of Albert Wesker.

In keeping with the Paul W. S. Anderson movies being their own alternate universe hybrid of the games' stories and wholly original stories, RE:N manages to exist closer and adjacent to the games universe while being slightly "alternate" as well. In this version, Umbrella successfully covered up the Raccoon City incident, but in a way that would exist in the shocking sensibilities of today's world: they're corrupt and many people know it, but they're so big and influential as a company that they're able to get away with it. This lent itself well to the younger versions of the main characters learning about the lore of the company/games in a way that felt natural rather than one big info dump. Accomplishing that is an example of the strong writing.

The "future" timeline of the show plays out more like a post apocalyptic zombie show, but with a twist. Umbrella monsters plague the landscapes and countrysides of forgotten communities, and it's heavily implied that prominent parts of the world have altogether crumbled following the mayhem of 1998 (the original Raccoon City incident), as well as the events of the "past timeline" (the New Raccoon City incident). We get to see a desperate society of people trying to survive or fight back against Umbrella, who's developed into a more overtly totalitarian entity compared to the sly pharmaceutical giant casting a large shadow in years past.

Both timelines play out as action thrillers with character dramas at the centerline. Sisters Jade and Billie navigate teenage life while trying to figure out what their father is up to, and for the most part these events all unfold in an intriguing manner that manages to feel both believable and compelling. High school characters aren't going to be everyone's favorite, but the show writes and handles them well. I stayed for the dynamic between the sisters, as well as the complex relationship they have with their father.

Speaking of which - changes to the source material aside - I loved Lance Reddick as Wesker. He gives strong performances (literally), and what the writers did with his character while still being inspired by some of the game lore felt well realized. He manages to be mysterious, restrained yet emotional, and nuanced. Another character I felt was well realized was Evelyn Marcus - an original character inspired by the games who serves as yet another complex, villainous presence. Along with the character Baxter (another fun villain who doesn't get enough screen time to develop), she gets some of the strongest lines in the series.

There's a lot more I can say about this show, but I have the sneaking suspicion that, like me, many people went into this experience ready to hate on it. It isn't perfect - while it successfully and steadily builds tension, the last two episodes felt a bit rushed in their pacing - but it does succeed in capturing the aesthetic, vibe, and emotion that a Resident Evil series should: viruses, monsters, a corrupt corporation, and characters trying their damnedest to survive it all. The dual narrative can be clunky at times, but it's written and directed competently, featuring well implemented easter eggs and references to the lore that exist closer and more compellingly adjacent to the game canon than any adaption before it. While some of the references aren't 100% game accurate (fast zombies and Dr. Salvador, I'm looking at you), they in no way detract from a solid and competent narrative.

And given how incoherently previous adaptions like RC tried to take a swing, sometimes an original but competent take on the source material is a better choice.

If you're on the fence, give this show a chance and watch it with an open mind. It is very much "its own thing," but it's a well realized story with multiple layers that mostly lands on its feet. It is, by far, the best Resident Evil adaptation we've gotten. While I worry about what preemptive conclusions do for this show's word of mouth, I would happily sign up for future seasons.

Been a longtime watcher/reader of Stuckmann's work. His love of cinema & storytelling is prevalent throughout this short. It's generally agreed that telling a complete and competent story in fewer pages is immensely challenging. While this film does stumble over its own jokes in the beginning, I think Stuckmann managed to capture a lot of heart in this dual-layered narrative.

On the surface we've got a writer attempting to write his next big movie while consulting a friend/colleague for workshopping notes. Underneath that surface is a piecemeal revelation of a man who recognizes that he's partially sold his soul to earn money by cranking out horrendous scripts, mourning the fulfillment he's given up while at the same time striving to make his way back to it. Throughout the process of the feedback he receives from Melanie, we learn more about his fears and wounds -- not only in terms of how he feels he's betrayed his own values, but in terms of a more existential dread that no one will remember him -- at least not for anything good.

That more existential dread of living, existing, and dying without leaving a poignant mark, I think, calls into question a conflict/fear that many people have -- especially people who find fulfillment in creating: wanting to be remembered, but fearing that they won't. A desire to create paired with a fear that what's created will be no good, and that the "no good"-ness of it will be what they're remembered for. As a relatively new filmmaker (at least from a filmography standpoint -- we all know Stuckmann's been Stuckmannizing since childhood), I thought this poignant theme was a hell of a bold emotion to showcase as a thesis of this film. Executing it with notes of comedy, drama, tension, and romance was ambitious and entertaining, although I'm not sure all of those notes landed.

This film is dripping with Stuckmann's voice and style. The interspersed absurd comedy that's also steeped in movie references, while fun, does at times detract from the more poignant themes of legacy and existential dread. The cutaways to various other films-within-the-film are downright hilarious (I love that Flickinger is in all of them), but I do think there were one or two too many.

I liked the chemistry between the two leads. I thought they worked well together, and I felt that the script demonstrated enough of their history while not leaning on or stumbling over it. For such a contained "bottle" of a story, it makes sense that much of the growth and revelations emerge through dialogue, however I felt that some of the dialogue was a bit spoonfeedy. What I would have liked more of would have been more moments of vulnerability from the characters, especially Joe. He embodies this hyped up screenwriter-type who's just so excited about pumping out a script and finding that next big thing, but it was when he was showing his own "laments" (paralleling the summary of the script he's writing oh so nicely) that I really felt invited into his mind and heart.

The earlier half of the film is infused with his zany energy that, while still part of him, prevented me from getting to know Joe more deeply. It was when Joe spoke about his past hurts (both professionally and personally) that I felt much more interested and invested in him. And I like that ongoing tensions within this now-broken relationship served as a bit of a catalyst for those vulnerabilities to emerge. What wasn't so clear in the film was why their relationship ended in the first place, and it would have been nice if this were explored in parallel with why Joe decided to go "path of least resistance" with his lowbrow scripts, and why Melanie ultimately distanced herself from him. I thought that particular theme (Joe's tendency to go for what's easy / skirt around the tough stuff) could have been explored more meaningfully.

A real strength of this movie is its use of momentum on all sensory fronts: music, dialogue, shooting. When excitement is injected into the story, or when lament swells up, the music matches...as does the camera work. All of these elements really coalesced to a solid package and appeared to work in sync with one another.

I want to talk about the "meta" components of this film. There's a risk in any story-within-a-story narrative that things can come across as too spoonfeedy or obvious. Overall, I felt the parallels worked without the film hitting us too over the head with them. Joe writing and explaining a script called the "Puppet's Lament" which serves as a reference to his own plight, which could arguably be applied to Stuckmann himself, is explored without being the punchline that anchors the entire story.

There's an exchange near the very end of the film between the two leads in which, while discussing the ending of Joe's revised script, a parallel is made between the "ending" of not only Joe & Melanie's arc, but of the short film we're watching as well. For a movie that is partially about writing, this was a risky thing to portray through dialogue. That being said, it worked for me. I thought it was executed with a lot of heart and sweetness, to the point where it left me smiling. I thought the note to end the film, i.e., the question that it leaves the viewer -- and Joe -- with, landed really well for me. It takes a lot for this to be conducted in such a way so as to not become cheesy, and I think Stuckmann -- oh dear lord -- stuck the landing of this ending really well. I don't think I've seen camera angles that tight on characters faces, but I thought it really captured the intimacy and closeness of that moment really well. Not sure if it was intentional (my guess = yes), but: the camera angles and distance of the shots were a lot father at the start of the film. As the story presses on and the characters reconnect, the angles get closer, exemplifying not only their reemerging connection, but the tension and closeness with which we experience these characters as well. Nice work!

Aside from some over-reliance on silly humor, some spoonfeedy dialogue, and some missed opportunities for depth, I thought this was a fun film with lots of ambition with something to say. Competently helmed and written, and executed in such a way that the parallel themes and dual narratives didn't stumble over themselves. Keep it up, Stuckmann.

A title like "11-11-11" is going to attract attention, but it is not the central focus of this movie. What could have been a very clever film ultimately stumbles, not from a lack of creativity, but from unpolished execution.

The interactions between brothers Joseph and Samuel feel natural and engaging. Joseph is an atheistic realist, jaded and haunted by the loss of his wife and son. He is also a novelist with a large readership. The film opens by putting us right into Joseph's despair, and while haunted dreams pave the way for plenty of imagery, they are a haphazard way to gain sympathy for a character. That being said, the focus of the movie is not on Joseph's loss, and as such, we're given an adequate snapshot into what he's been through. The movie succeeds in showing Joseph as a man recovering, attempting to seek support from others by staying active and talking about his problems. The movie does not get bogged down on Joseph's career, instead featuring it as an asset that comes back in an important way once the movie comes to a close.

Once the plot brings Joseph to Spain, the movie also succeeds in terms of dialogue. Hearing two brothers—one an atheist, one a pastor—banter about faith and religion is an interesting dynamic, one which is sure to evoke responses from viewers. The dialogue avoids being preachy, giving us some nice character idiosyncrasies, all the while leaving the viewers to decide whether or not they side with Samuel or Joseph.

Joseph's interactions with Anna and Sadie are underwhelming by contrast. Sadie works as an almost-love interest, however when it comes to standing on her own, she is an afterthought that really only matters once the ending comes full circle. The same can be said for Anna. Both roles were well-acted, but not enough time was spent with them to really pack a punch.

A pervasive image in this film is the pattern of the number 11. The film wisely avoids the pitfall of what could've essentially been a ramshackle Da Vinci Code / conspiracy type of movie, and fully acknowledges its presence. The dialogue considers and refutes the idea of the pattern, namely in Joseph's conversations with Samuel and Sadie. Instead of focusing on fear/paranoia, the film humors and refutes the pattern recognition, and then takes us into the existence of the occult.

As far as the plot and story are concerned, we have a mixed bag of hits and misses. Suffice it to say, this movie follows the template coined by the Saw franchise. Many seeds are planted throughout the story that lead to a twist ending, and in the last 5 minutes of the movie, a retrospective montage is shown to the viewer, explaining how the main character was manipulated into playing into the antagonist's trickery.

Visually, the film takes its time. We are presented with a few "boo" moments, but the bulk of the scares come from lingering, disturbing imagery. Joseph's father is downright creepy, and the demons are menacing. These images are often presented as: we the viewers see them, but the characters on- screen overlook them, moments which serve to heighten tension.

At a very high level, this kind of story is effective. When looked at more closely, said effectiveness is only as good as the execution. While the pieces all fit together (the retrospective montage at the end is quite clever), the spoon-fed nature of the manipulation works against the film. Had the Saw-like retrospective not been shown to us, I'm left to wonder how effective the film's ending would have been on its own. Despite how well the pieces fit, the misdirection and manipulation by such a trusted character is muddled by the film glossing over the poignant themes driving the story, and instead barrels forward with the plot a bit too quickly. It's one thing for the details to fit together and make sense, but if their effectiveness hinges on the director explaining them to us, the execution must be re-thought.

Many revelations are shown during the climax, and while they all amount to a clever ending, the execution prevents the impact from resonating. Not enough time is spent on, and not enough depth is given to, the supporting characters (specifically their interactions with Samuel). A bit too much time is spent on 11-11, and Joseph becomes too slave to the plot in the third act (as opposed to a strong, active character). Had the planted "seeds" been given their due emphasis, the movie's conclusion would not have flown quite so under the radar.

Muddled emphasis and focus are the movie's biggest downfalls. There's a great story to be told about "God vs. Satan" and the way we conceptualize religion—specifically the subjective natures of good vs. evil, and the way in which the masses perceive it— but it gets diluted by the 11-11 symbolism and detective-story antics. Other poignant topics include: the strength of a book and the weight of its readership/influence. I for one would have been very impressed had the film tread into territory where it caused viewers to actually question "which side" they believed in, whether the story we know about 'Jesus' and 'God' came about in a manner similar how Satan and Samuel do so in the conclusion of this film.

Ultimately, the movie approaches interesting topics, but never fully commits to them. It gets bogged down on symbolism, and the under- developed characters are unable to uphold a very clever, interesting plot.

I'm convinced this movie should not have been called '11-11-11.' The title grabs attention, however (like the film itself) it draws attention away from the real focus this story could have had.

I liked this movie, but I wanted to like it more. Misdirection and manipulation are effective storytelling strategies, however they should not come at the cost of half-execution, or spoon-feeding the viewer.