Brace yourself for a bold statement: Samara Weaving is the new Bruce Campbell. Her enthusiasm for stunt work and physical comedy, her willingness to be covered in mud and sprayed with blood, and her commitment to the underlying fear and emotion of a scene — while still finding the humor — are on par with the Raimi muse and maestro of the form. During her character's horror trials, her face and eyes twist with pain, her lips tremble, and through sheer reliable technique she completely embodies a woman consumed by terror and frustration. Her willing and skilled co-stars match Weaving's manic energy, and the rising tide lifts all boats, making this a treat. It's not as surprising or original as its predecessor. That's the hazard of sequels, I guess. But it's still bloody fun.
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