‘My inbox is filled with the most horrible ways people can die,” says Craig Perry, the producer – or, as he would prefer, “curator” – of the Final Destination franchise. Over 25 years, his films have punctured, skewered, crushed, flattened and decapitated men, women and children in a series of horrifying “accidents” and Perry has been a witness to them all. His friends clearly want him to witness many more.
But as we speak on video call, just a few weeks before the sixth instalment is released, he seems far from traumatised. Instead, he’s ebullient, buzzing infectiously about the many gory deaths he has overseen with the same enthusiasm other people might display when talking about their children (“If you’re not having fun, don’t do it!” he grins). He has every right to be proud. To date, the films have made more than $657m (£493m) worldwide and helped to terrify a generation of millennials about the dangers that arise not from entering a haunted house or swimming in shark-infested waters but from the mundanities of taking a shower or driving your car. In the Final Destination movies, death is everywhere.
