Witchboard 2025 Movie Review
Witchboard (2025), helmed by genre veteran Chuck Russell, marks a bold return to supernatural horror, reimagining the 1986 cult classic with modern flair and gothic sensibility. Set amid the eerie and culturally evocative streets of New Orleans’ French Quarter, the film follows Emily (Madison Iseman) and her fiancé Christian (Aaron Dominguez), whose dream of launching a sustainable café in a historic carriage house devolves into paranormal nightmare when Emily discovers an enigmatic pendulum Witchboard hidden among the building’s antiquities. With its ritualistic air and occult allure, the board awakens a dark spiritual legacy, tethering Emily to the vengeful Queen of Witches, Naga Soth, and consequently drawing in Christian’s desperate attempt at salvation through the help of the charismatic and cryptic Alexander Babtiste (played by Jamie Campbell Bower), whose intentions quickly spiral into manipulation. From its world premiere at the Fantasia International Film Festival in July 2024, Witchboard was hailed as a “wicked‑fun and expertly made horror throwback” by Dread Central, praising Russell’s return to practical‑effects‑driven terror and commending the film for channeling the visceral thrill of 1990s splatter‑fest cinema like Wishmaster and The Relic Indeed, Russell cleverly elevates the horror by maximizing on‑screen resources, drawing from his expertise in creature and effects work to craft tension through tactile gore, even if the plot remains largely traditional in its haunted‑artifact tropes
Dread Central
An intentionally indulgent ride rather than an auteur’s cerebral exercise, Witchboard gleefully embraces its B‑movie heritage, delivering a madcap concoction of jump scares, ritualistic intrigue, and baroque stylings. Critics echoed this sentiment: Bloody Disgusting found it “messy and uneven, scattered in both narrative and performance, but fun enough to lightly recommend” Rue Morgue acknowledged its incoherence at times but praised its commitment to genre chaos and retro energy, calling it “a throwback to the sort of mid‑budget horror films made in the ’80s and ’90s… prioritiz[ing] madness and commotion over artistry or coherence, and com[ing] away successful in that quest” Similarly, ScreenAnarchy commented that while the film doesn’t reinvent the horror wheel, it’s “a perfectly decent—if a little long—stab at the haunted‑item subgenre that should satisfy fans” And Paste offered one of the most enthusiastic takes, describing Witchboard as “relentlessly entertaining, nasty in its misanthropic delight in messing with its characters, stylishly put together, and unexpectedly sexy to boot… bursting… with ideas and cinematic verve”
The film’s strengths lie in its visual craftsmanship and atmospheric set pieces. Fantasia reviewers singled out standout sequences—for instance, one scene plays like a vividly macabre homage to Final Destination, in which Emily uses the board to locate her lost engagement ring, only to inadvertently summon Naga Soth’s spectral presence in Christian’s kitchen. Everyday tools transform into instruments of death—reflections in oil, a meat slicer, a row of knives—creating a tense, visually striking tableau that, although not repeated, remains a highlight The cinematography by Yaron Levy, combined with kinetic editing, imbues the film with both style and energy; CreepyKingdom noted that the “slick and wonderfully edited” visuals could easily catalyze theatrical audience reactions, marking Witchboard as a prime candidate for crowd‑fun horror viewing Iseman’s performance as Emily anchors the supernatural chaos with genuine emotion—her portrayal of a recovering addict’s descent into obsession adds thematic weight to the supernatural premise, subtly aligning the board’s pull with the specter of relapse
Yet where the film excels in spectacle, it falters in coherence. The shift from haunted‑object thrills to possession tropes feels abrupt, and the introduction of characters like Babtiste and Emily’s researcher friend Brooke (Melanie Jarnson) often muddles motivations rather than deepening them. Bloody Disgusting lamented the cluttered narrative, while CreepyKingdom and other voices noted that clichéd subplots—like a Google‑search populace uncovering ancient misogyny—undercut the potential for genuine thematic commentary The third act in particular draws criticism for tangled timelines and characters whose emotional trajectories don’t satisfy—Crimmins of Rue Morgue felt the ending lacked payoff, and Film School Rejects remarked that the film “can’t touch the original or even come close to the highs of [Russell’s] own ’80s classics”
Performances also lend both flair and friction: Jamie Campbell Bower relishes the villainous Babtiste with a flamboyant, camp‑tinged presence—at times reminiscent of a baroque vampire—yet the tonal disparity between his role and the earnest Christian (Dominguez) creates an odd dichotomy. Dread Central applauded Dominguez as the film’s MVP—a vulnerable but heroic “Final Boy”—while Iseman imbues her faculty with sincerity that elevates the material; still, their tonal dissonance occasionally fractures the ensemble’s cohesion
Moreover, technical execution occasionally betrays the film’s indie budget: critics frequently cite the inconsistent mix of practical and CGI blood effects, with Lucid barrels of digital gore undermining crafted physical carnage and detracting from visceral immersion The film’s length—roughly 112 to 115 minutes—also feels excessive; both critics and audiences suggest a tighter cut might have preserved pacing without sacrificing impact
Wikipedia
Still, Witchboard thrives as an unapologetically lurid, schlock‑rewarding experience for fans of horror’s theatricality. It doesn’t overthink—it’s crafted for audience engagement, a “popcorn movie” that revels in gothic atmosphere, pulley‑taut tension, and retro references wrapped in modern production design
Its mythology expands upon the original by weaving in bloodline curses, masked covens, and the grand specter of Naga Soth, setting it apart as a standalone entry while paying homage to the 1986 source
In sum, Witchboard (2025) is a messy, exuberant horror revival—more visceral carnival than high‑concept frisson. It’s a visually stylish and aggressively entertaining throwback, driven by practical effects, gothic flair, and a willingness to lean into madness. While its narrative inconsistencies, uneven effects, and tonal unevenness may frustrate viewers seeking narrative precision, the film remains a spirited, blood‑soaked rediscovery of old‑school horror values. Delightfully unsettling, not overly precious—Witchboard invites you to switch off your brain, lean into the chaos, and dare the board to answer you back.
