Reviews
[Review] “Chucky” Episode Five Marks Dramatic Shift in Series as Legacy Characters Arrive
So far, “Chucky” has toggled between Jake Wheeler’s life thrown in chaotic disarray, thanks to the murderous doll, and flashbacks that fill in the gaps of Charles Lee Ray’s ascension to serial killer. Episode five, “Little Little Lies,” pushes both elements forward in pivotal ways but finally brings the arrival of two legacy players. How they fit into the series remains to be seen, but the series’ ability to juggle the franchise’s past, present and future so seamlessly continues to impress.
The looming threat of a Chucky on the loose united Jake (Zackary Arthur) and Lexy (Alyvia Alyn Lind) as they enlisted Devon (Bjorgvin Arnarson) as an ally in the fight and cast aside their differences. While the trio’s repeated attempts to track down and stop Chucky bring them closer together, “Little Little Lies” gives us a deeper look at the beginning of a productive relationship for Charles Lee Ray in the ‘80s. It all sets the stage for major characters to make their long-awaited return.
CHUCKY — “Little Little Lies” Episode 105 — Pictured in this screengrab: (l-r) Zackary Arthur as Jake Wheeler, Björgvin Arnarson as Devon Evans — (Photo by: USA Network)
Cult of Chucky’s ending blew open the world of franchise possibilities, but it also left a dangling loose end for the central characters. It’s meant a steady increase of anticipation in “Chucky,” with fans dying to know just what’s next for Nica (Fiona Dourif) and Tiffany (Jennifer Tilly). But creator Don Mancini smartly focused on the “Cult” aspect and the ripple effects of what that would mean on a larger scale, beyond our familiar franchise players. With Chucky splitting his soul across numerous vessels, it opens the franchise up to new blood and fresh ideas, and “Chucky” emphasizes that through Jake Wheeler’s grim coming-of-age story.
“Little Little Lies,” in many ways, feels like a turning point in the season. Jake’s relationship progress with Devon and Lexy means seeing him happy for the first time. The episode also lays some groundwork in tying up minor loose ends to be dealt with in the future. All are signs that the torch may be passing from Jake to the titular character, Chucky, and a methodical convergence of the major plot threads. Accountability shifts more firmly toward the teens’ parents, as well, for a satisfying change.
The flashbacks to Charles Lee Ray’s rise from little sociopath to serial killer hasn’t always worked; memories of Charles’ childhood occasionally felt superfluous and out of place, even when used as a parallel to Jake’s story. The flashbacks in this episode succeed as fan service and a bridge between Chucky’s past and present. However, it is a little visually jarring to see another actor play the adult Charles, especially with Dourif providing the voice work. That gets exacerbated by the episode’s end.
CHUCKY — “Little Little Lies” Episode 105 — Pictured in this screengrab: (l-r) Zackary Arthur as Jake Wheeler, Alyvia Alyn Lind as Lexy Cross, Björgvin Arnarson as Devon Evans — (Photo by: USA Network)
As Jake is finally coming into his own, so too is Chucky. Cult of Chucky saw its eponymous villain effectively separating his soul into numerous host bodies, plastic and otherwise, and “Chucky” found a clever way to continue that thread without Nica or Tiffany. However, their grand entrance is more than welcome, and Mancini rewards patient viewers with an intriguing revelation that looks to even the playing field for an inevitable confrontation.
If the first four episodes were a steady rise, accumulating potential energy in their ascent, episode five feels like the turning point that will unleash that energy in a kinetic race toward the finale. “Little Little Lies” doesn’t just deliver a dramatic shift in the narrative; it establishes a Chucky no longer able to hide behind a teen, which will pose a new set of problems for Hackensack’s residents. As always, these problems promise to come with a body count.
“Chucky” airs on USA and Syfy on Tuesdays at 10 p.m. ET.
Franchise callbacks and connective tissue between films are aplenty in Sébastien Vaniček’s Evil Dead Burn, including a sense of humor. Yet the laughs feel oddly placed in the most dour entry yet, with its sobering allegory for domestic abuse. Ambitious swings and inspired sequences unleash thrilling carnage that satisfies, but it all unravels by its clumsy final showdown.
Alice (Souheila Yacoub) is already a survivor before the arrival of Deadites. She’s suffered domestic abuse and violence at the hands of her husband, Will Price (George Pullar), and finally sees reprieve when the lakeside Deadite that bookended Evil Dead Rise causes his death. It’s a calculated move by the undead; they’re in search of a certain Kandarian dagger that happens to be a Price family heirloom. So, Alice’s grieving with her in-laws becomes a bloodbath as she’s forced to confront literal and metaphorical demons, courtesy of the Necronomicon.
Vaniček, who co-wrote the script with Florent Bernard, presents a rather rotten family tree before any demonic activity. Will is, after all, his parents’ son, and mom and dad are a nasty piece of work. Erroll Shand manages to top his skin-crawling villain from Mārama as Price patriarch Edgar, a volatile vision of toxicity and control. His wife, Susan (Tandi Wright), reveals herself to be even more vile, doling out cruel barbs that indicate she’s quite comfortable with her husband and eldest son’s penchant for violence.
The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree; flickers of ignorance and bigotry occasionally cut through Grandma’s (Maude Davey) dementia-addled mind. The exception to this family’s rot is with timid youngest son Joseph (Hunter Doohan) and his girlfriend Thya (Luciane Buchanan), though he’s too browbeaten to protect anyone from the Prices’ wrath. His cowardice is revealed to be a different form of toxicity, though, a byproduct of the kind of fruit this family tree bears. Which is to say that Evil Dead Burn may be the first in the franchise to operate on such a palpable degree of hate. It’s hard to feel fear when you actively despise the majority of these characters and root for their demise.
The good news is that Vaniček delivers on that front. Adhering to the formula, the family members perish one by one in inventive ways. Including the poor family pup, though his Deadite form doesn’t contribute much to the chaos. It’s the ingenious set pieces and demonic sequences that stand out in Evil Dead Burn, calling Vaniček’s nerve-fraying Infested to mind. An early sequence involving a moving car, one that sees multiple bodies fighting for life or death and utilizing whatever weapon they can, is worth the ticket price alone. A later sequence that sees Alice crawling away as an all-out brawl breaks out around her in a long, continuous take also adds thrilling personality.
Evil Dead Burn sags dramatically between these sequences, though, forcing us to sit through more vitriol from vicious in-laws with only contact lenses and wounds to distinguish them from human or demon. The somber tone is matched by a flat gray palette evocative of ash, made more literal by the falling of snow. The cold, flat aesthetic also diminishes some of the horror’s visceral impact. It all builds to a rather dismal climax that introduces a shoddy CG monstrosity that makes Alice’s demons made of burnt flesh.
In a film series that has, thus far, maintained fierce commitment to practical effects, the clunky final boss of demons here winds up a huge disappointment. At least the filmmaker commits fully to the Burn part of the title, forgoing the blood-drenched finales of the previous two films to deliver something a bit fresher.
Evil Dead Burn is so heavy-handed in its domestic violence theme that subtext is just text, which in turn clashes with the upbeat splatstick fan service bits. A mid-credit scene aims to bring the laughs, but the post-credit scene is so egregious in its fan service that it reads desperate and feels shoehorned in just to remind fans how much we love this particular character.
Vaniček most certainly understands the assignment when it comes to delivering gruesome freakouts and brutal carnage. It’s everything else around it that largely frustrates. Yacoub is a winsome final girl who’s already been battered before the events of the film, then we’re forced to watch the rest of the family pile on in even worse ways.
It’s the type of bleak that’s at constant odds with the Evil Dead formula and callbacks, making for a tonally uneven vision of domestic abuse. It makes you miss when the ancient evil in this series didn’t need a trauma metaphor to terrorize. That’s what the demons are for.
Evil Dead Burn releases in theaters on July 10.
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