A viciously inventive sequel that blends faith, trauma and supernatural terror
The Black Phone was never screaming for a sequel, but Black Phone 2 makes such a strong case for its own existence that it may just outdo the original.
Set in 1982, the story once again follows Finn (Mason Thames), still grappling with the lingering trauma of being kidnapped by the sadistic Grabber (Ethan Hawke) — a killer he ultimately defeated. Hoping for peace, Finn travels with his sister Gwen (Madeleine McGraw) to a remote Christian youth camp. Instead, Gwen becomes the lightning rod for nightmarish visions of ghost children calling to her from beyond the grave.
With the Grabber dead, Black Phone 2 pivots into Nightmare on Elm Street territory, transforming him into a malevolent force capable of reaching from the afterlife. It’s a bold supernatural reinvention, cleverly handled by returning director/writer Scott Derrickson and co-writer C. Robert Cargill, who embrace the sequel’s freedom rather than lazily rehashing the first film.
The decision to set most of the film at a Christian youth camp is inspired. Gwen’s increasingly horrific visions clash with the religious convictions of the camp counsellors, leading to some laugh-out-loud moments where well-meaning believers accuse her of being possessed rather than haunted. Derrickson mines both humour and tension from this dynamic, finding room for levity without ever undermining the danger.
Beneath the campfire comedy lies an unexpected tenderness. The film gradually reveals itself to be not just about ghosts, but legacy, of pain, of faith, and of family. Gwen’s connection to her late mother (Anna Lore) becomes the emotional spine of the film, reframing the horror through a lens of loss and longing. For all its brutality, Black Phone 2 isn’t just scary, it’s moving.
Visually, the film is a triumph. Derrickson drenches the setting in eerie nostalgia. With school camp wooden bunk beds, crucifixes glowing in the dim light, and snowfall so dense it feels suffocating. This Americana coziness is violently contrasted by the brutal, ice-cracked dream sequences at the frozen lake, where Gwen sees the Grabber’s young victims floating beneath the surface, waiting for release. Derrickson also uses a Super 8 camera to phase in and out of realities, creating an ’80s style aesthetic that perfectly sets the atmosphere for this film.
The film’s standout sequences include a road trip through a blizzard, scored to a slow, haunting cover of Pink Floyd’s Another Brick in the Wall, it just screams pure Derrickson. Lingering shots of smoke curls in the cabin light. Headlights slice through whiteout conditions. It’s dreamlike yet somehow still manages to stay grounded, unnerving calm before all hell breaks loose.
Please make no mistake, when Black Phone 2 goes for the throat, it does not hold back. The final act erupts into one of the most viscerally staged horror climaxes in recent years. Derrickson weaponises fast, shocking edits and vicious close-ups to create not just terror, but catharsis. The violence isn’t cheap or sensational; it means something. The monsters suffer. The victims fight back, while this does feel similar to the first film, with the child gaining power at the end of the film, it still manages to feel like its own standalone story.
And at the centre of it all is Mason Thames, delivering a genuinely impressive performance. Where the first film framed him as a clever boy, in over his head, this sequel transforms him into something tougher, angrier, and more layered. There’s a running theme about fear being masked by rage, and Thames carries that tension brilliantly.
Black Phone 2 is the rare horror sequel that understands evolution is more powerful than repetition. It deepens the mythology, heightens the stakes, and adds unexpected emotional resonance without losing the savage edge that made the first film work.
It’s scary. It’s funny. It’s strangely spiritual.
And most importantly, it proves that some calls are worth answering again.
