This article contains major spoilers for Zach Cregger’s Resident Evil (2026).
As we barrel towards the final act of Resident Evil (2026), main character and “glorified Postmates driver” Bryan (Austin Abrams) sits in the parking garage of Raccoon General Hospital and sobs. He’s been bitten, the infection has spread, and he knows he’s not going to make it. He takes out his phone and starts recording a voice message to his girlfriend, putting into words all the things he should’ve said earlier on in the night.
It’s at this moment that I realized exactly what Cregger was trying to achieve with his adaptation of Capcom’s survival horror franchise. Bryan is an NPC, a non-player character, in video game terms. He’s the dead body that Leon stumbles upon when he arrives at the hospital, Matilda in hand, expertly casing the area before he finds Bryan lying there dead, his phone by his side. Press the interact button, and Leon would get to hear the voice message Bryan left for his girlfriend. He’d pick up the antivirus laying in the carrier bag next to Bryan’s body — the key item Leon needs for his next objective — and move on.
Unlike the seven other adaptations that have come before this one, Resident Evil (2026) chooses to play out its story from the perspective of the everyman — a goal that Capcom started with when the series first began, but has since lost sight of — instead of one of its many iconic superhero-like protagonists.
Throughout its lean, 90-minute runtime, we see Bryan stumble his way from one chaotic situation to another, muttering profanities as he’s forced to reckon with increasingly unbelievable monstrosities in the longest night of his life. Like a true everyman, Bryan is adorably clueless when it comes to handling guns. He struggles with seemingly simple tasks, like shooting a padlock off a gate or loading shells into a shotgun. Whereas Claire or Chris wouldn’t hesitate to grab the car keys off a pair of legs that have been violently separated from a torso, Bryan nopes out almost immediately because he’d rather hoof it than potentially face off against a terrifying monster that would rip him apart in an instant.
Claire Redfield shouts “Your ass again?!” and willingly jumps into an arena to fight a Stage 3 G-Birkin. Our sweet Bryan could never.
All throughout the night, Bryan fumbles, barely making it out of each zombie encounter by the skin of his teeth. Resident Evil (2026) is expertly structured like a video game, one mission objective leading to the next, with the set-pieces growing increasingly dangerous until we finally make it to the Umbrella lab. Because every Resident Evil game needs to have a lab level. It’s here that we are introduced to the Umbrella scientists, who seem ready to save the world when they get their hands on the antivirus sample that Bryan was sent to deliver. Except, they don’t. Because they’re Umbrella and they’re incompetent cowards.
The chaos that unfolds is exactly how you’d imagine an Umbrella lab disaster would go down in any Resident Evil game. There’s a containment breach, the antivirus is fumbled, the scientists lose control, and the monster breaks loose once again. Unfortunately, in this case, the monster is Bryan, who’s finally unable to hold off his infection.
As the movie speeds towards its conclusion, we catch a glimpse of the Tyrant-like monster that Bryan becomes. He’s no longer recognizable as the National Guard helicopters approach him and the movie cuts brutally to its end credits. What follows after? Do the National Guard take him down and save the city? No, of course not. The antivirus is lost. The National Guard has no clue what they’re up against. More likely than not, Bryan destroys the helicopter and plunges Raccoon City into further chaos. The T-virus outbreak is complete. Moments later, Leon Kennedy drives into town, ready for his first day of work as a police officer at the RPD…
What makes Resident Evil (2026) such a simple, yet effective, adaptation of the video game franchise is the way it completely separates itself from the established stories and characters, while also demonstrating that it understands what makes Resident Evil so iconic. It obeys several fundamental rules, like the fact that all Resident Evil protagonists are inherently good people. I don’t know why, but they just are. Bryan may be comically incompetent, but he sure isn’t going to abandon the infected little girl until she tries to bite his face off, and he sure as hell isn’t going to leave the zombie woman he ran over with his car in the freezing snow.
By introducing a new character and story, while making sure said character is likable and endearing enough to the audience, Resident Evil (2026) succeeds at putting a brilliant, original spin on the fundamentals that would surely appeal to even the most diehard fans. It’s a decision that makes sense; the games become a power fantasy when you’re suplexing zombies or blasting them away with grenade launchers, but when you’re a powerless NPC with the odds perpetually stacked against you, well that just makes for a better horror movie.
