Final Destination: Bloodlines, the sixth chapter in the enduring horror franchise, emerges after a 14-year hiatus with a vibrant pulse, retooling its grimly playful formula for a new generation. Directed by Zach Lipovsky and Adam Stein, the film leans into the series’ signature Rube Goldberg-esque death traps with a visual and emotional clarity that feels both nostalgic and inventive. The screenplay, penned by Guy Busick and Lori Evans Taylor, introduces a novel twist: the curse of Death’s pursuit now spans generations, tethering the narrative to a family’s inherited trauma. This shift from the franchise’s usual band of doomed strangers to a bloodline-bound saga adds a layer of pathos, making each demise sting with personal consequence.

The film’s opening sequence, set in a 1960s Space Needle-like tower, is a masterclass in suspenseful escalation. Cinematographer Christian Sebaldt’s camera prowls with predatory intent, framing everyday objects elevator cables, a flickering light, a precariously placed glass as harbingers of doom. The sequence’s choreography is both chaotic and precise, a testament to the directors’ ability to balance horror’s visceral demands with darkly comedic timing. However, the screenplay falters in its middle act, where a reliance on family drama feels undercooked, slowing the momentum with expository dialogue that lacks the wit of the franchise’s best moments. This narrative lull, while brief, exposes a tension between the film’s ambition to deepen its emotional core and its obligation to deliver relentless carnage.

Kaitlyn Santa Juana shines as Stefani, the college student haunted by her grandmother’s premonitions, her performance grounding the film’s absurdity with raw vulnerability. Richard Harmon’s Erik, a snarky cousin, injects mordant humor, stealing scenes with his irreverent charm. Yet, the film’s emotional peak belongs to Tony Todd’s final appearance as William Bludworth. His poignant, self-authored lines “I intend to enjoy the time I have left, and I suggest you do the same” carry a meta-weight, serving as a heartfelt farewell from a horror icon. The score by Tim Wynn, though occasionally overpowering, amplifies the tension with its haunting cadence, particularly in the MRI sequence, where sound design and visuals collide in a claustrophobic nightmare.

Bloodlines doesn’t reinvent the franchise but refines it, embracing its absurdity while weaving in surprising emotional heft. Its flaws uneven pacing and a slightly derivative script are overshadowed by its gleeful commitment to spectacle and its nod to the series’ enduring question: can we ever outrun fate?