Weaving and Newton have a nice chemistry, especially in the sequences where they side-eye each other with guarded annoyance stemming from the fact that Grace left the younger Faith behind at their foster home when she moved to New York at 18 alone. But the real pleasure of the movie is how mirthful directors Matt Bettinelli-Olpin and Tyler Gillett—two-thirds of the Radio Silence creative collective—can be while building out the draconian lore and devilish details in their ever expanding world of the evil elite.
As it turns out, the Le Dormas were just one of many rich billionaire broods who made a deal with Mr. Le Bail. In fact, it seems to be pretty much all of the globe’s top one percent who are in on the action, who betwixt one another run the world’s governments and social orders from behind-the-scenes. This is demonstrated when we are introduced to Mr. Danforth (David Cronenberg) watching an international crisis on television. He picks up his phone and orders a “ceasefire.” Seconds later a breathless cable news anchor announces “a ceasefire has been reached” in the televised quagmire.
It would seem the Danforths were the greatest rival the Le Dormas’ knew on a council of the world’s Devil-worshipping families, albeit with the Le Dormas’ in the highest seat. But now that the Le Dormas dynasty is extinguished, the big chair is vacant. Alas, that is where poor Grace comes in. As revealed to her by a smirking, well-groomed retainer simply known as the Lawyer (Elijah Wood), the only way for another family to fill the empty high seat is to succeed where the Le Dormas’ failed and hunt Grace down in another lethal game of hide and seek before dawn. This makes her prey to Cronenberg’s nasty twin heirs Ursula (Sarah Michelle Gellar) and Titus (Shawn Hatosy), as well as a whole ensemble of kooky character actors and genre favorites like Kevin Durand.
If Grace, and a conscripted Faith—who is used as leverage against the older sister—can survive the night, the pair might just end up with the power of the Devil on Earth (read: a real-life tech mogul). But to do that they are going to have to fight their way across 18 holes, various ballrooms outfitted for fancy weddings, and every other stereotype you might expect from the film’s country club setting that looks suspiciously like Mar-a-Lago.
Ready or Not was never subtle in its eat-the-rich social satire. It was, however, early in tackling that in the new zeitgeist since the first movie came out a handful of months before Parasite and Knives Out, never mind the growing trend of class schadenfreude in the 2020s that’s coincided with the growing consolidation of wealth at the top. So if the first movie was tangibly angry in its social satire, Here I Come seems much more at peace with its punch-drunk gallows humor. Indeed, after a bravado opening sequence that marries the final scene of the 2019 film seamlessly with the 2026 picture’s kick-off—scored, appropriately, to “Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow”—Grace’s rescue by the authorities quickly descends into her willingly throwing back on the blood-soaked bridal gown from the first movie.
“It gives mobility,” she insists to her sister as they duck around a deserted hospital gurney while being hunted. It also is emblematic of both Grace and the film’s nonchalant and chipper nihilism. There’s no way out, so we might as well get comfy while making a night of it.
