Author: Shani

From its very first frame, The Black Phone 2 delivers a bold and thrilling ride that both honours and reinvents its predecessor—drawing you into darkness, then giving you permission to stare straight into it. The creative team manages the tricky task of balancing visceral chills with genuine emotional stakes, and the result is a horror-sequel that feels grown‐up, confident, and deeply satisfying.

There’s something electrifying about how this sequel evokes the spirit of A Nightmare on Elm Street—that uncanny blend of dream logic and dread, where you’re never entirely sure whether what you’re witnessing is real, or slipping into nightmare. The nightmare-invasion motif, the sense of vulnerability even in the familiar bedroom, the idea of something terrifying reaching into the safe spaces of sleep: these echoes pay homage without turning into mere imitation. Instead, The Black Phone 2 uses that lineage as a springboard, then twists the conventions into something fresh.

This film doesn’t just rely on scares. It gives us characters we care about—flawed, human, trembling at the edge of terror. The young lead anchors the story with a performance that is both terrified and courageous, making every monstrous moment count more deeply. At the same time, the film makes smart use of setting and tone: shadows linger unnervingly, silence pulls focus just before the jolt, and the cinematography turns everyday rooms into claustrophobic trapdoors. It’s a textbook of tension done right, but with heart underneath.

The writers aren’t afraid to dig into themes of trauma, powerlessness and survival. Amid the chilling set-pieces and creepy payoffs, there’s a pulse of hope: that fear can be challenged, that the night can be confronted. And because the film acknowledges darkness rather than pretending it away, the eventual victories feel earned.

Visually and aurally, this is the kind of horror experience you’ll recall long after you’ve left the theatre. One scene in particular—when the young protagonist lies awake, eyes darting, the hum of the phone on the nightstand echoing in the dark—captures what great horror does: it turns the ordinary into the ominous. The sound design, the camera placement, the silence—everything conspires to make that moment linger.

In sum: The Black Phone 2 isn’t just a sequel. It’s a worthy expansion of its universe, a deft homage to horror classics like A Nightmare on Elm Street, and a compelling thriller in its own right. If you love being pulled into the shadows and then walking back out with your pulse racing, this one’s for you. Highly recommended.

Genre: Horror

Cast: Ethan Hawke, Mason Thames, Madeleine McGraw, Demián Bichir, Miguel Mora, Jeremy Davies, Arianna Rivas

Director: Scott Derrickson

Written by: Scott Derrickson & C. Robert Cargill, based on the short story ‘The Black Phone’ by Joe Hill

Producers: Jason Blum, Scott Derrickson, C. Robert Cargill

Executive Producers: Ryan Turek, Adam Hendricks, Daniel Bekerman, Jason Blumenfeld

Rated R for strong violent content, gore, teen drug use, and language.

From its opening moments to its haunting finish, The Long Walk delivers a cinematic journey that lingers far beyond the credits. Drawing on the unrelenting tension of the source material and the intimate psychological stakes of director Stephen King’s story, the film crafts a world both brutal and deeply human — a rare feat in modern thrillers.

What stands out most is how every choice here serves the weight of the walk itself. The metaphor is clear: this isn’t just a physical test of endurance, it’s an emotional odyssey. The young protagonists stride through landscapes that feel indifferent to their suffering, and the camera gives those moments space — long shots, quiet breaths, the ache of expectation building. The performances are quietly formidable: you believe in their fears, their longing, their resilience. We root for them because we feel for them.

Visually, the film is stark and unforgiving — but in a way that deepens rather than distracts. The arid expanses become characters in themselves, and inside that emptiness you sense the toll of the journey. The sound design and score are equally restrained: moments of silence become as charged as any scream. In one scene, when the group pauses for rest and the air is still — the absence of movement becomes almost audible. It’s a masterful use of tension.

Where The Long Walk truly shines is in the way it layers meaning through the constant forward motion. It’s not just about reaching the finish line; it’s about what it costs, what you leave behind, and how the journey transforms you. The film refuses easy answers — there are no heroes untouched, no victories unblemished. In its honesty it becomes far stronger.

In tone and spirit, The Long Walk reminded me of what made films like A Nightmare on Elm Street resonate: the idea of being trapped in a system that won’t relent, where the ordinary becomes the arena of terror, where what lies ahead is as scary as what has passed. Just as Elm Street turned the bedroom into a battleground, The Long Walk turns the road into a crucible. But whereas Elm Street scared you across dreamscapes, this film scares you with the relentlessness of reality, the grind of endurance, and the awareness that every step matters.

In short: The Long Walk is bold, unflinching, emotionally resonant and visually memorable. It takes you deep into its world and leaves you with questions, echoed in the silence after you leave the theatre. Whether you’re a fan of King’s dark imaginings or simply drawn to stories of survival and transformation, this film hits the mark. Highly recommended.

Directed by: Francis Lawrence
Screenplay by: JT Mollner
Based on the Novel by: Stephen King
Produced by: Roy Lee, Steven Schneider, Francis Lawrence, Cameron MacConomy
Cast: Cooper Hoffman, David Jonsson, Garrett Wareing, Tut Nyuot, Charlie Plummer, Ben Wang, Roman Griffin Davis, Jordan Gonzalez, Joshua Odjick, Josh Hamilton, with Judy Greer, and Mark Hamill