The recent spate of video game adaptations have so far failed to capture a crucial aspect of the medium: the experience is determined entirely by the player. And sometimes the player is really, really crap at the game.
It’s a tonal quirk that makes Zach Cregger’s reboot of Capcom’s blockbuster game series Resident Evil a funny, delirious symphony of cartwheeling, flesh-and-bones zorbing balls and exploding blood bubbles for the non-gamers, and a pointed meta-comedy for the gamers about how everyone thinks they’re a zombie executioner extraordinaire until they miss five consecutive headshots and then somehow die to a rat.
