Resident Evil (2026)

Zach Cregger’s latest venture swaps the usual video‑game‑to‑film playbook for a fresh take on the Resident Evil mythos. Set against the backdrop of the iconic Resident Evil 2 timeline but shifted to the modern era, the movie follows Austin Abrams as Bryan, a medical courier caught in the Raccoon City outbreak that turns citizens into feral monsters. While Abrams carries the narrative, the film sprinkles in a supporting cast that deepens the Umbrella intrigue. One of those supporting faces is Carl, the Umbrella operative whose familiar look is no accident. Carl is portrayed by Paul Walter Hauser, a Golden Globe and Emmy winner best known for his turn in I, Tonya, his recurring role in Cobra Kai, and his turn in Black Bird and Fantastic Four. Hauser’s résumé spans comedy and drama, from Community and It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia to Spike Lee’s BlacKkKlansman and Clint Eastwood’s Richard Jewell, cementing him as a versatile character actor. Beyond the screen, Hauser doubles as an indie‑circuit wrestler. He captured the PROGRESS Proteus Title in 2025, even wearing the belt to the Fantastic Four premiere, and his brutal bout against QT Marshall at Ring of Honor’s Death Before Dishonor earned a reputation as “violent and gnarly.” The actor’s wrestling flair even seeped into his Emmy acceptance speech, which read like a promo calling out legends for a match. After Resident Evil, Hauser is set to lend his voice to Netflix’s Scooby‑Doo: Origins, playing a former owner of the titular Great Dane.

A lifelong Resident Evil gamer admits he’s never found a"legitimately good" film in the franchise—until now. After years of watching the movies as a side‑show to the games, he’s begun to see the original 2002 movie in a new light, appreciating the way it captured the series’ evolving tone. The first film’s high‑octane action felt alien to early fans who were used to the games’ infamous “tank controls” and fixed camera angles, which made every hallway a nightmare. That cinematic, fast‑paced style clashed with the survival‑horror roots of the early titles, leaving many purists skeptical. Ironically, that very action‑heavy approach foreshadowed the series’ own shift after 2005’s Resident Evil 4, when the games turned toward gun‑play and adrenaline‑fueled set‑pieces. The reviewer now sees the 2002 movie as a bridge that let the franchise “let its freak flag fly,” paving the way for the sequels that followed. With that hindsight, the fan is now eagerly awaiting Zach Cregger’s new Resident Evil slated for 2026, hoping the next installment finally marries the beloved horror roots with the blockbuster energy the series has come to expect.

In Zach Cregger’s latest Resident Evil, the star deliberately stripped away the glossy action‑hero façade, opting instead to play a character who reacts to chaos the way an everyday person would. He argues that audiences rarely see a lead process extreme terror naturally, and that raw, unpolished fear is what fuels the film’s tension. One of the early set‑pieces that illustrates this approach is a harrowing dog encounter in the first act. The actor wondered how anyone would even make sense of such a moment, briefly entertaining the notion that the creature might be alien‑born before deciding that would only confuse viewers. The exercise of imagining the unknown, he says, became a fun rabbit hole that kept his performance grounded. Cregger’s direction, bolstered by strong reviews and word‑of‑mouth buzz, has turned the adaptation into a surprise box‑office hit, suggesting the film will keep drawing audiences well beyond its opening weekend. The realistic, fear‑driven lead performance is being hailed as a fresh template for future video‑game movies. Beyond the theater, the film’s momentum dovetails with Universal Studios Japan’s Halloween Horror Nights lineup, underscoring a broader resurgence of horror‑driven entertainment that blends game lore with genuine, human terror.

Zach Cregger’s third feature film lands as the first Resident Evil movie that feels truly faithful to its video‑game roots. After the lukewarm 2021 Welcome to Raccoon City, the new adaptation leans on Cregger’s deep knowledge of the franchise, sprinkling the screen with the kind of Easter eggs that long‑time fans have been waiting to see. The film is a treasure trove of game‑loving nods: protagonist Bryan (Austin Abrams) discovers the iconic typewriter save point in a snow‑bound farmhouse, a fleeting glimpse of a green healing herb flashes by in a car’s backseat, and a series of padlock puzzles force him to smash a vehicle only to find the key nearby—mirroring the frustrating yet satisfying lock‑and‑key mechanics that define the games. Cregger also captures the series’ signature horror visuals. Bryan’s journey is punctuated by the grotesque, bulging‑eyed monsters that have become synonymous with the T‑virus, from an early rat‑king encounter to the towering forms reminiscent of William Birkin’s transformation in Resident Evil 2. A desperate voice memo to his girlfriend foreshadows his grim fate, echoing the in‑game recordings that document the outbreak. Critics have responded enthusiastically, with the movie holding a fresh rating on Rotten Tomatoes. Its brisk pacing and meticulous attention to detail make it a must‑watch for anyone who’s ever saved a game at a typewriter or rummaged for a hidden herb, finally giving the beloved franchise the cinematic respect it deserves.

Cregger’s new Resident Evil isn’t just another zombie flick; it’s a love letter to the survival‑horror games that defined a generation. From the opening scene with a hapless organ‑courier named Bryan (Austin Abrams) to the ever‑shifting set pieces that grow more elaborate and deadly, the film mirrors the level‑by‑level progression of the original titles. Players will recognize the familiar scramble for ammo and keys as Bryan rifles a deserted farmhouse for shells and padlocks, turning the on‑screen scavenging into a visceral, game‑like experience. The movie leans into the franchise’s signature body horror, showcasing creatures whose faces blossom into grotesque eyes and teeth, and even a morbidly obese sewer dweller, all while tentacles slither in the background. Yet it’s the small, interactive touches – the frantic search for a shotgun, the constant need to find resources – that set it apart from past adaptations that either strayed too far from the source or alienated mainstream audiences. Financially, the film is already making history. With a $60 million domestic haul in its opening weekend, it’s on track to become the most profitable entry in the Resident Evil series, earning the praise of many who now call it the best video‑game adaptation ever. Critics, however, note a slight disappointment for fans of Cregger’s own auteur style; the director’s knack for tonal audacity – seen in Barbarian and the allegorical thriller Weapons – feels a touch muted amid the relentless horror. Even so, Cregger’s work stands shoulder‑to‑shoulder with the likes of Jordan Peele and Ari Aster, proving that a well‑crafted, game‑faithful horror can still surprise and satisfy both die‑hard fans and casual moviegoers alike.

Zach Cregger’s latest Resident Evil remake leans into pure, unvarnished panic, putting Austin Abrams’ character Bryan—just a regular guy tasked with delivering a package—into a nightmarish zombie‑infested world. The film never asks him to be a fearless hero; instead, it lets his high‑pitched screams and frantic reactions drive the terror, making his fear feel almost palpable. What sets this adaptation apart is how Bryan’s clumsy attempts at survival mirror the experience of anyone who’s ever fumbled with a video‑game controller. From fumbling with a gun’s safety to repeatedly failing at a simple lock, his incompetence is both hilarious and oddly comforting, especially for gamers who know the frustration of being clueless in a digital death‑match. Even the film’s small missteps—like Bryan tossing away a ladder in a barn—are highlighted as moments where the audience can picture themselves making the same mistake. Cregger’s take, praised by critics, turns a classic franchise into a surprisingly relatable horror, where the real monster is the ordinary person’s own panic.