Since its start in 2000 (yes, this year is the 25th Anniversary), the Final Destination franchise has treated death like a Rube Goldberg-obsessed stalker, stringing together elaborate, split-second chain reactions with gruesome precision. It’s always been about being brutally punished for playing god, and somewhere in the cinematic multiverse, there’s a version of you who chose not to watch this movie. That version might be safer with un-bit nails, but they’re missing out on the gloriously twisted return of Death’s most ornate revenge schemes. After a 14-year hiatus that felt like an eternity for fans like me who’ve watched every shard of shrapnel and every slippery bathroom floor with anticipation and dread, Final Destination: Bloodlines doesn’t just rekindle that old thrill; it takes it further.

Yet this sixth entry isn’t a reboot or a reimagining; it’s a full-bodied continuation with some brains in its head, soaked in legacy, covered in cold sweat, and topped with a fresh coat of fizzy arterial spray. It would make the Grim Reaper himself applaud. Directors Zach Lipovsky and Adam B. Stein (who reports say literally killed their way into the job by staging a fake death during their pitch meeting) have delivered something surprisingly robust. This isn’t just another quick-buck sequel feebly limping across the finish line; it’s a $50 million studio statement from New Line Cinema that their franchise still has fresh blood to spill.

The film opens with a vintage 1968 sequence atop the Skyview Restaurant Tower on its opening day, when young Iris Campbell (Brec Bassinger, The Man in the White Van) foresees a deadly collapse and fiery end for the hundreds of people with her. Her premonition saves lives—but breaks Death’s rules. And, as this franchise has drilled into us over five previous films, Death does not like its schedule being messed with.

Fast forward to the present day, where college student Stefani Reyes (Kaitlyn Santa Juana), plagued by horrific visions of the same tower collapse that has caused her grades to plummet, comes home to unravel a mystery woven deep into her bloodline. With the expediency of Guy Busick & Lori Evans Taylor’s script that’s heavy on “get-to-know-you” exposition, Stefani reconnects with her guarded father Marty, her distant younger brother Charlie (Teo Briones), and a cast of extended family members who may or may not survive to see the third act (or even the second). The premise—a generational curse born of lives that weren’t meant to exist—is a bold twist that deepens the mythology like all good higher numbers of a series should.

Admittedly, though, it feels like a stretch at first, pushing the series’ already-loose logic into near sci-fi territory. Death isn’t just collecting immediate debts anymore but bides its time… a far cry from the overly anxious unseen stalker we’ve come to scream about. But just when it threatens to fall off a cliff of its own making, surprisingly, it clicks, folding neatly into the franchise’s fatalistic playbook without breaking it.

Death’s grudge is now genetic, and Bloodlines runs after that idea with aggressive confidence, armed with the kind of gross-out spectacle that definitely demands to be seen in Christian Sebaldt’s IMAX cinematography. The format isn’t just a hidden price gouge from theater chains, but demonstrates its worth like the recent Sinners and upcoming Mission: Impossible – The Final Reckoning have. It transforms the complex death sequences into immersive experiences that held my entire body in an extended state of tension.

While Santa Juana occasionally struggles with the weight of her character’s baggage (estranged mother, family secrets, nightmare-driven quest), she eventually settles into the role of our all-knowing anchor amongst the carnage. Think Vancouver Jenna Ortega, with less sullen aloofness and more survivor’s guilt. Bassinger displays an alive, effortless charisma in her opening scenes, making me wish they’d consider a fully period-set entry in this franchise. As the older Iris, veteran Canadian actress Gabrielle Rose (The Stepfather) sells the exposition-heavy grandmother role passionately, making you start believing her every word about Death’s lethal ledger.

Mostly marked members of Stefani’s family, the supporting cast scores in contributing convincing character work on the idea of family in a film that is otherwise all about violence. I truly enjoyed Richard Harmon (Trick ‘r Treat) as tattooed cousin Erik with his chaotic energy that keeps you guessing (don’t fret if you’ve already seen his nose/ceiling fan accident in the trailer—no spoilers, but that preview wasn’t as revealing as it looked). At the same time, Owen Patrick Joyner as Bobby delivers surprising depth beneath his doofy/goofy jock exterior. Rya Kihlstedt (The Nowhere Inn) hints at the fascinating adult perspectives the Final Destination films have rarely explored. Then there’s the great Tony Todd (Candyman), back as the cryptic Bludworth in his final appearance before his death in November 2024. Knowing of Todd’s passing soon after completing this work makes his scene all the more impactful.

These aren’t the relatively simple deaths of the 2000 original. If you thought Final Destination 5 had clever kills, Bloodlines ups the ante with demises equal parts genius and grotesque. When you think you’ve spotted the threat, Death pivots, turning innocuous objects into tools of spectacular fatality. Lawnmowers, garbage trucks, MRIs, and even trampolines play a part in the slicing and dicing. While the anticipation is almost worse than the impact, once you see someone getting nailed in the face by a vending machine coil that continues to turn, you know you are playing with minds capable of creating machines of mortality that defy prediction.

Armed with their sizable budget, Lipovsky and Stein have made what might be the slickest Final Destination yet. Along with Sebaldt’s cinematography, which isn’t afraid to get up close and personal with the gore but also knows when to pull back for scale, you have Rachel O’Toole’s (Book Club) devilishly meticulous production design that plants visual clues (and Easter Eggs for eagle-eyed fans) like landmines. Tim Wynn’s (The Legend of La Llorona) score cleverly incorporates motifs from earlier films and builds its own orchestral identity that punches up the dread masterfully. Balancing CGI and practical work brilliantly, the special effects team produces deaths that ping-pong through elaborate chain reactions before landing with bone-crushing finality.

While simple logic occasionally takes a backseat to spectacle (why would someone protecting themselves from Death surround their cabin with sharpened logs and metal spikes?) and the acting can be as overbaked as the girls locked in a tanning bed from Final Destination 3, the filmmakers’ commitment to crafting something more innovative than your average sequel shines through. There’s a genuine attempt to expound on what has come before while delivering the goods fans crave.

As someone who once defended The Final Destination (yes, the 3D one with the car wash and the escalator), I went into Bloodlines hopeful but cautious. What I got was a jolting, smart, sick-in-the-best-way chapter that reminded me why I loved these movies in the first place. My shoulders were often up to my ears; I cringed throughout the terrifying opening, winced at the painfully destructive deaths, and screamed more than a few times when an errant <insert sharp object here> came out of nowhere and connected with a piece of flesh.

Resurrecting a franchise that seemed destined for premature burial, Final Destination: Bloodlines is more than an intense summer horror flick. It’s proof that the series still has wicked tricks to play and that when you cheat Death, it always finds a way to collect, no matter how long it has to wait. See it in IMAX if you can—your summer deserves to start with screams that are this spectacular.