After more than a decade, Final Destination: Bloodlines arrives with more polish, more invention, and more heart than any entry since the original. This isn’t just a solid sequel. It might just be the best since that first plane ride ruined our collective ability to enjoy take-off. Co-directed by Zach Lipovsky and Adam B. Stein, this sixth installment returns with the same deliciously cruel streak, but now elevated by a tighter script, better pacing, and a stronger sense of craft.
The film opens with a set piece staged in a 1960s observation tower, saturated with a kind of fizzy optimism that’s promptly shattered in glorious slow motion. Broken glass, faulty wiring, and a perfectly timed penny combine to create a kind of death ballet. It’s operatic, gruesome, and pitch-perfect Final Destination. The twist? It’s a premonition dreamt by Stefani (Kaitlyn Santa Juana), granddaughter of Iris (Brec Bassinger), the woman at the centre of the disaster. That clever narrative move retrofits this as an origin story, adding a new generational layer to the mythology.
What follows is a respectful resurrection of the franchise. Stefani, plagued by the same visions as her grandmother, uncovers a family legacy of doom. The deaths start again slowly, then all at once. And there’s the same Rube Goldberg sadism fans expect, but the editing by Sabrina Pitre and cinematography by Christian Sebaldt give the chaos that balletic rhythm. The tattoo parlour sequence and MRI kill are standouts, not just for their grisly inventiveness, but because they are framed with such thrilling tension. Final Destination: Bloodlines leaves the audience constantly scanning the screen for clues: what’s going to snap, slip, spill, or spark first?
“…a premonition dreamt by Stefani, granddaughter of Iris, the woman at the centre of the disaster…”
There is something weirdly comforting about the Final Destination films. They’re like blunt instruments of existential horror, artfully disguised as gory funfair rides. The threat isn’t a masked killer or snarling demon, It’s inevitability. It’s gravity, timing, or a loose bolt. It’s Death itself, always hiding just off-camera with a stopwatch and a sense of humour.
Perhaps the most surprising element is the tone. Final Destination: Bloodlines understands its legacy and knows how to have fun with it. There are nods to previous films with logs, buses, and fans but they feel like part of a shared cinematic language, not lazy call-backs. And crucially, there’s a strong sense of affection for the characters. Richard Harmon brings a welcome bite to his role as the sarcastic cousin Erik, while Santa Juana proves a capable, empathetic lead.
And let’s not forget Tony Todd with his return as Bludworth, the cryptic mortician. This was Todd’s final screen role before his passing, and the film honours him beautifully. His brief appearance is powerful, layered with knowing subtext and grace. It’s more than fan service. It’s a farewell that lands.
It may be the sixth film in a long-running franchise, but Final Destination: Bloodlines moves with the swagger of a series finding its groove all over again. It delivers energy, emotion and innovation with undeniable panache, making it a must-watch for thrill-seekers.
"…operatic, gruesome, and pitch-perfect..."
