Witchboard (2025) | Review
Well, well, well. Look who decided to crawl out of the directorial wilderness after 25 years of making us wonder if The Blob (1988) was just a beautiful fever dream. Chuck Russell’s back to the horror genre, baby, and he’s brought receipts in the form of a Witchboard remake that has about as much connection to the original 1986 Ouija fest as The Thing (1982) has to The Thing from Another World (1951). Which is to say, they share a title and absolutely nothing else, and that’s fine. The original (which I love) really couldn’t be remade anyway, it’s such a product of its time.
Russell has transplanted his supernatural shenanigans to New Orleans (because of course he has. It’s the city where even the beignets are probably haunted), following Emily (Madison Iseman) and Christian (Aaron Dominguez) as they attempt to open a trendy restaurant. Their business plan apparently included “accidentally summon vengeful 17th-century French witch” as a marketing strategy, which honestly might work better than most influencer collaborations. Emily and Christian are a well-drawn, believable young couple, and thank god (or the devil; I’m not picky) there are no children in this movie. I am so tired of the token little kid in every freaking film and TV show these days.
The genius move here is ditching the Ouija board entirely for a pendulum board, because let’s face it, Russell needed fresh occult real estate. Enter Naga Soth (Antonia Desplat), a witch with legitimate grievances against the patriarchal religious establishment who got herself executed for the audacity of existing while female and magical. She does, of course, have a feline familiar, and that cat’s performance really is Oscar-worthy. Someone get that tabby a SAG card.
But the real MVP here is Jamie Campbell Bower as Alexander Babtiste, serving up villain realness with the theatrical intensity of a Royal Shakespeare Company actor who’s discovered cocaine and Dark Shadows reruns. Bower doesn’t just chew scenery, he makes a five-course meal of it, complete with wine pairings and amuse-bouche. His performance channels the panache of Vincent Price filtered through Julian Sands’ big Warlock energy, creating something so deliciously over-the-top it makes Jeffrey Combs in Reanimator look understated.
Visually, this thing is gorgeous. Russell and his cinematographer have created a horror film that looks like Mario Bava and Dario Argento had a love child raised on Instagram filters and Gordon Ramsey’s Hell’s Kitchen” aesthetics. The color palette is beautifully saturated, with copper cookware serving as supernatural scrying mirrors and restaurant prep becoming ritualistic foreplay. It’s like “Chef’s Table” directed by Lucio Fulci, and I’m absolutely here for it.
The gore factor is pleasantly old-school. Think Final Destination meets The Cook, the Thief, His Wife & Her Lover, with kitchen implements becoming instruments of supernatural justice. Russell understands that practical effects have a tactile quality that CGI blood can’t match, creating death scenes that feel consequential rather than cartoony. (Though there is a dash of the new-fangled just to subtly enhance, or remove wires, etc.)
What elevates Witchboard beyond typical unearthy horror is its willingness to get genuinely weird with time-hopping soul transfers and metaphysical revenge plots. This isn’t content to be another “evil object corrupts innocent people” story. It’s more interested in exploring cycles of abuse, spiritual justice, and what happens when the oppressed gain agency. It’s The Craft meets Black Sunday with a healthy dose of Strange Days temporal fuckery. Sure, it occasionally threatens to tip into full-on camp territory, but the tonal shifts feel intentional rather than accidental, like a conductor who knows exactly when to let the orchestra get a little wild.
The film’s sexual energy deserves special mention – this is unashamedly erotic horror in an era where most genre films treat sexuality like it might give them cooties. There’s a sultry, adult confidence to the proceedings that feels refreshingly European, like Russell remembered that horror and desire have been dance partners since Vampyr (1932).
Witchboard is horror comfort food prepared by a master chef—familiar ingredients elevated through technique, presentation, and a chef’s knowledge of exactly how much spice the dish can handle. Welcome back, Chuck.
