North Denver, 1982. A few years have passed since Finney was the sole survivor to escape the clutches of the vicious serial killer known as the Raptor. The ordeal has left him traumatized, and he tries to numb the psychological aftermath in any way he can, even smoking pot. His sister Gwen, who played a crucial role in saving him, is even more deeply involved: she has terrible visions of children beneath the frozen surface of a lake, and in her nightmares, answering a call, Gwen finds a connection to a winter camp where her now-deceased mother worked in the 1950s, and it is, in fact, her mother who seemingly speaks to her from the past. To understand what is behind these visions, Gwen convinces her would-be boyfriend Ernesto and Finney to enlist as counselors-in-training and travel to Alpine Lake, the snowy camp, where an old story of missing children unfolds and where a dark connection to the Raptor emerges, despite the fact that he has been dead for years.

The first film, Black Phone, didn’t seem to leave much room for a sequel, but it was successful, so the space was found anyway.

And if the serial killer is dead, no problem: just bring him back as if he were some sort of Freddy Krueger. After all, one of the most famous and iconic serial killers of the ’80s—Krueger, to be precise—was indeed dead and living in the dreams of his victims. And let’s not forget that Black Phone 2 is indeed set in the ’80s, so it’s somewhat fitting. However, if the path chosen by Derrickson and his co-screenwriter C. Robert Cargill (of the inspiring story by Joe Hill, Stephen King’s son, only the characters remain) is perhaps a bit comfortable, between paying homage to an icon and using it instrumentally, the director pursues it with conviction and intensity, managing to create dark, dreamlike atmospheres of undeniable quality and effectiveness, which transcend mere imitation and rise to the level of conscious and effective emulation.

Furthermore, Derrickson, a veteran of the genre, not only avoids falling into the trap of imitating the ’80s horror icon, but also manages to distance himself from self-replicating, a flaw typical of many sequels. Thus, if the first Black Phone was a highly claustrophobic film, this second installment is almost agoraphobic, immersed as it is in the whiteness of the snowy expanses, among blizzards and frozen lakes, no less frightening than the dark, enclosed places of the first film (which are nevertheless repeatedly referenced here as well).

If a long section, perhaps too long, is at one point explicitly dedicated to purely expository purposes (of facts and even psychology), and the film thus loses some of its emotional hold on the viewer, it must be said that, both before and after, Derrickson manages to find, even and especially from a strictly visual perspective, a way to strike effectively and skillfully, generating tension through sequences of great expressive force and remarkable aesthetic refinement, in a confrontation between Good and Evil that spares nothing and no one and also presents, unusual for those years, mystical and religious overtones. There are no significant new developments to report in terms of narrative, but the meticulous staging and the use of well-timed jump scares maintain the audience’s attention and ensure a quality viewing experience.

The three protagonists from the previous film all reprise their roles, and while Mason Thames and Ethan Hawke continue to deliver solid and effective performances, Madeleine McGraw once again shines, as the psychic little sister, who is brilliant and convincing in her portrayal of her, offering a complete and nuanced portrayal.