Sequels often arrive with an unspoken promise: more of what worked last time, just louder. The Black Phone 2 takes a different, riskier path. Rather than attempting to recreate the suffocating simplicity of the original film, director Scott Derrickson expands the world, the themes, and the emotional burden placed on its characters. The result is a sequel that is darker, messier, and more ambitious, a film less interested in pure terror than in what happens after terror has already done its damage.
The first Black Phone was defined by confinement. Its power came from a single basement, a single monster, and a child forced to grow up far too quickly. The sequel opens that space dramatically, both physically and psychologically. Finney and Gwen Shaw are no longer trapped children; they are survivors carrying the invisible weight of what they endured. This shift alone signals that The Black Phone 2 is not trying to be a repeat experience. It wants to examine the long shadow of trauma rather than the moment of violence itself.
Set several years after the events of the original film, the story follows the siblings as they are drawn toward a remote winter camp tied to a series of long-forgotten deaths. Gwen’s psychic visions, already present in the first film, intensify and begin to pull her toward truths that were buried decades earlier. Finney, meanwhile, struggles with guilt, anger, and a sense that survival came at a cost he still does not fully understand. The film weaves their personal journey into a broader supernatural mystery, one that suggests evil does not always end when its physical form is destroyed.
This expansion of scope is both the film’s greatest strength and its most noticeable flaw. On one hand, The Black Phone 2 feels richer and more emotionally layered than its predecessor. The idea that trauma can echo across generations, attaching itself to places as much as people, gives the film a haunting thematic backbone. On the other hand, the narrative occasionally feels overburdened by its own ideas. Where the first film thrived on restraint, this sequel sometimes struggles to know when to pull back.
Visually, the film is striking. The snowy camp setting replaces the claustrophobic darkness of the original basement with a different kind of isolation. Endless white landscapes, bare trees, and dimly lit cabins create a sense of exposure rather than entrapment. You are not boxed in; you are lost. Derrickson uses this environment effectively, allowing the natural emptiness of the setting to mirror the emotional distance between characters who do not know how to speak about what they have survived.
The horror itself leans more heavily into the supernatural this time, favoring atmosphere over shock. Nightmares bleed into waking life, ghostly figures appear at the edges of frames, and silence becomes as threatening as any loud scare. The film is patient, sometimes uncomfortably so, trusting that dread can build without constant stimulation. While there are moments of sudden violence, they are used sparingly, which makes them land harder when they do arrive.
Performance-wise, the sequel benefits enormously from the returning cast. Mason Thames gives Finney a quiet intensity that feels earned rather than performative. His character is no longer defined by fear, but by restraint, a young man constantly holding himself back, afraid of what might surface if he lets go. Madeleine McGraw, as Gwen, delivers the film’s most emotionally raw performance. Her portrayal balances toughness and vulnerability, capturing the exhaustion of someone who sees too much and is no longer sure whether knowledge is a gift or a curse.
Ethan Hawke’s presence as The Grabber is more abstract this time, but no less unsettling. Rather than functioning as a traditional antagonist, he exists like a scar that refuses to fade. His appearances are brief, fragmented, and often symbolic, reinforcing the film’s idea that some horrors do not need a physical body to remain powerful. This approach may frustrate viewers expecting a more direct villain, but it aligns with the film’s thematic focus on memory and psychological imprisonment.
Where The Black Phone 2 occasionally falters is in its pacing. At nearly two hours, the film lingers on certain plot points longer than necessary, reiterating emotional beats that are already clear. Some secondary characters are introduced with intriguing potential, only to fade into the background as the story narrows its focus again. These moments do not ruin the film, but they soften its overall impact, particularly in the middle act.
Still, the film’s willingness to take risks deserves credit. It resists the temptation to become a formulaic horror sequel filled with louder scares and simpler stakes. Instead, it treats its audience with respect, assuming they are willing to sit with discomfort, ambiguity, and emotional heaviness. This choice will not appeal to everyone. Viewers looking for a fast-paced scare ride may find the film too somber or introspective. Those who appreciate horror as a vehicle for psychological exploration, however, will find much to admire.
What ultimately sets The Black Phone 2 apart is its refusal to offer easy closure. The film does not suggest that surviving trauma means conquering it. Healing, here, is portrayed as uneven and ongoing , a process without clean edges or final answers. By the time the credits roll, the story feels complete in its emotional arc but open in its larger implications, hinting at a world where evil can be confronted but never fully erased.
In the end, The Black Phone 2 may not be as tightly constructed or immediately gripping as the original, but it is more daring. It deepens its characters, broadens its themes, and asks harder questions about fear, memory, and survival. It is a sequel that understands growth is not always comfortable, and that sometimes, the scariest thing is not the call itself, but the fact that it never truly stops ringing.
The 4K Blu-ray release of The Black Phone 2 is packed with special features that meaningfully expand the film’s world and deepen appreciation for its characters and craftsmanship. A generous selection of deleted scenes offers quieter, character-driven moments that flesh out relationships and motivations, including Gwen and Ernesto’s conversations in the library and chapel, Mustang’s interactions with the group, and reflective scenes such as Gwen praying alone. These sequences add emotional texture and context, giving fans a fuller sense of the story’s human core and the small, intimate beats that didn’t make the final cut but remain compelling in their own right.
Beyond the deleted material, the disc’s featurettes provide a thorough look behind the curtain. Dialed In: The Cast of Black Phone 2 explores how the actors shaped their roles through personal insight and creative choices, while A Story Carved in Ice highlights the demanding stunt work, elaborate prosthetics, and technical precision that brought the film’s most visceral moments to life. Frozen in Time delves into the eerie production design and unsettling atmosphere on set, underscoring how tone and terror were carefully constructed. Rounding it all out is a feature commentary with director, co-writer, and producer Scott Derrickson, offering thoughtful insights into the film’s themes and execution. Taken together, this release is a must-own for horror fans and collectors, and it will be available on 12/23.
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