Final Destination: Bloodlines (2025)
Final Destination: Bloodlines is the first film in the series I’ve seen, and I approached it with some hesitation, unsure whether I’d feel adrift without the backstory. As it turned out, that wasn’t an issue. While there are clearly references for long-time fans—most notably the return of Tony Todd’s character, William Bludworth—the story stands on its own. What struck me most, watching it without any prior attachment, was just how firmly the film leans into its central idea: that death isn’t random, but part of a larger, almost mechanical process. And that process, as this film suggests, doesn’t end with you—it may follow your bloodline.
The story focuses on Stefani Reyes, a university student who begins experiencing deeply unsettling visions. As she digs into her family’s history, she uncovers a link to a tragedy that took place decades earlier, and slowly realises that what happened in the past may be returning to claim her and those close to her. I thought Kaitlyn Santa Juana gave a strong, grounded performance as Stefani—believable, restrained, and emotionally accessible. There’s a quiet determination to her character that helps hold the film together, especially when some of the surrounding characters feel a little thin.
As someone new to the franchise, what I found distinctive was the way the film builds suspense through ordinary objects—an innocuous appliance, a casual movement, a loose screw. There’s a kind of slow, methodical dread in watching a scene unfold when you know something awful is about to happen, but not quite how or when. That tension, for me, was more affecting than the gore itself. Some of the visual effects didn’t quite hold up under scrutiny—at times, the CGI distracted rather than supported the scene—but the creativity behind the fatal chain reactions was undeniably well-crafted. Even without the context of earlier films, I could see why this formula has had such enduring appeal.
The film opens with a beautifully staged 1960s sequence, set during the grand opening of the Skyview Restaurant Tower. I thought this was one of the film’s strongest sections—evocative, unsettling, and carefully shot. The production design here is particularly striking, with warm period tones and just enough stylisation to create unease. That contrast between elegance and violence lingers throughout the film. The cinematography often heightens this feeling, using tight, anxious framing and abrupt shifts in perspective to keep you guessing.
I was surprised by the emotional undercurrent of the story. Beneath the orchestrated carnage is a reflection on inherited trauma and the fear that we might be bound to repeat the past—whether through fate, family, or both. The idea that death can pass from one generation to the next gave the film a seriousness I hadn’t expected. It doesn’t always explore those ideas with as much depth as it might have, but the intention is there, and I found that refreshing in a film that could easily have relied on spectacle alone.
Tony Todd’s brief appearance as Bludworth added a sense of gravity. Even without knowing his full role in the earlier films, his presence here felt significant—like someone who understands the rules of a game no one else quite grasps. He brings a stillness and weight to his scenes that contrasted nicely with the panic unfolding elsewhere.
The film’s pacing is steady and well-managed. Edited by Sabrina Pitre, the structure avoids dragging, and the rhythm of quiet scenes followed by high-tension sequences is well judged. Tim Wynn’s score adds to the atmosphere without overwhelming it. I also appreciated the inclusion of older songs like “Bad Moon Rising” and “Ring of Fire”—they helped give the film a slightly haunted, time-spanning quality that ties in with its generational themes.
As a first-time viewer, I found Bloodlines surprisingly accessible. I imagine those with a deeper connection to the series will notice more layers, but I never felt excluded. What I did feel was a growing curiosity about the earlier films—not because I needed to see them to understand this one, but because Bloodlines gave me a taste of a very specific kind of horror: one that trades not just in scares, but in the slow erosion of safety. That, to me, is what lingers.
I’d give it a 3 out of 5. It doesn’t always reach the emotional or narrative depth it hints at, and some elements feel underdeveloped, but it delivers on its premise with a clear sense of tone and structure. As someone with no history with the franchise, I was impressed that it could stand on its own. It may not convert every newcomer, but for me, it offered enough to be both unsettling and oddly thought-provoking.