By Jason Osiason

There’s something strangely comforting about returning to a Final Destination film. You know the rhythm by now a spectacular set piece, a close brush with death, a mad scramble, and kills that feel both preordained and totally deranged. Final Destination: Bloodlines doesn’t try to subvert any of that. Instead it upgrades the execution with better tech and leans into the skills rather than its characters and storytelling.

I saw it in 4DX, which might be the best way to experience it. The seats jolt. Air blasts in your face. You’re physically tossed around with every death or tease. It’s gimmicky, sure, but weirdly effective. You don’t just watch someone get impaled. You brace for it.

The prologue might be the most formally ambitious set piece the franchise has ever pulled off. Set in a sleek, circular rooftop restaurant in the late ’60s, it’s presented not as a premonition, but as a dream. Everything elegant unravels in seconds. Chandeliers swing like pendulums. The floor gives way. In 4DX, it’s not just a collapse, it feels like you’re going down with it.

From there, we jump to the present. A young woman named Stefani inherits her grandmother’s knack to foresee pending familial doom and with it, the lingering trauma of that long-ago disaster. As a character, she’s watchable enough, but doesn’t leave much behind. The film doesn’t give her the space to build emotion, and you never really care whether she makes it or not. She exists to move us from one set piece to the next.

The real spark comes from the actor who plays Erik, her half-brother — tattooed, pierced, deeply annoying, yet the only character with an actual pule. He brings actual energy into the room. His hospital signature scene is the film’s high point: a magnet sets off an MRI, and every piece of metal turns weapon that feels like a love letter to the 4DX technology. Bolts fly through skulls. Chairs smash ribs. His piercings are yanked from his face, one by one. It’s sickening, hilarious, and kind of brilliant. In 4DX, it’s genuinely hard to sit through, which is, of course, the point.

The other death scenes mostly hold up. One woman falls through a glass ceiling in a slow-motion panic spiral that feels almost cruel in its buildup. Another dies in a spa in a mix of heat, steam, and claustrophobia that’s played for maximum discomfort. The movie knows how to stretch these moments, to let your anxiety stew before it finally releases.

But the connective tissue is weak. Dialogue is clunky and leans hard into the family mythology rather allowing characters to grow on their own. There’s a tension between honoring the legacy and trying but failing to say something new. It feels stuck and too careful to break the formula.

The ending also lands on a familiar note that’s more obvious and safe than past finales. Still some of the kills are among the best the series has delivered in years thanks to it feeling like it was made by fans honoring the legacy of the franchise, but the film never quite earns its own individual place. It moves more like an amusement park ride and little weight to its characters and storytelling. The framing suggests a family story, but it never hits emotionally which is something the earlier installments pulled off in a surprisingly refreshing way. This is not the bold new chapter I craved, but it is slick enough to hit the basic marks. [B-]