At some point over the past ten years of Hollywood franchise revivals, requels, and resurrection attempts, the term “legacy sequel” stopped carrying any weight. It used to mean something - an event, a chance to see beloved characters from long ago return to the screen with a new chapter worthy of their legacy. These days, it’s a buzzword slapped on every nostalgia trip that reintroduces an aging cast to gawk at a new generation fumbling their way through a rehash. Which is all to say: I Know What You Did Last Summer (2025) does indeed bring back the original survivors of the first film. And it very much is another legacy sequel, for better or worse.

To be fair, there’s a certain novelty in the fact that it’s taken this long for I Know to attempt this formula. Where Scream, Halloween, Candyman, Texas Chainsaw, and even The Exorcist have all hit the legacy circuit over the past few years, the I Know franchise always felt a bit more forgotten - perhaps because its original run burned bright and fizzled fast. The 1997 film has grown into a cult favorite in the decades since, a time capsule of post-grunge sadness and sun-drenched slasher vibes. It’s Scream’s emotionally broken cousin, shot on film with all the haunted, humid atmosphere of a coastal North Carolina summer. But the sequels were DOA, and the 2021 Amazon series came and went with barely a murmur. So while this new entry may not have been high on anyone’s wishlist, it’s kind of hard to fault the folks behind it for giving it one last swing.

Directed by Jennifer Kaytin Robinson (best known for the excellent Do Revenge) and penned by Leah McKendrick (M.F.A.), this new I Know What You Did Last Summer is tonally strange in the way most of these reboots tend to be. It wants to honor the original’s emotional core and character-driven tragedy while also leaning into the heightened melodrama, convoluted plotting, and by-the-numbers bloodshed that define modern horror retreads. It’s a film that’s earnestly about trauma and accountability, until it’s not. Until it's about a guy in a rain slicker doing cartoon villain shit with a hook.

We’re back in Southport, where the salt air still lingers and people still somehow remember the murders that happened decades ago, even if it’s hard to buy that anyone would still care at this point in a nation where pretty much all mass murders are instantly forgotten. Jennifer Love Hewitt returns as Julie James, years removed from the events of the first two films and seemingly content to live quietly out of the spotlight. She’s still carrying the weight of that one terrible summer, still marked by what she and her friends did, still haunted by the past. It’s good to see her again, honestly. Hewitt brings a level of sincerity that grounds the film even when the story itself starts flying off the rails. She’s joined by Freddie Prinze Jr. as Ray, whose presence feels more like a contractual obligation than a narrative necessity, but it's still a nostalgic pleasure to see them share the screen again.

The new ensemble of attractive, guilt-ridden twenty-somethings is predictably less compelling, though not for lack of trying. Admirably performed by Madelyn Cline, Chase Sui Wonders, Jonah Hauer-King, Tyrid Withers, and Sarah Pidgeon, these are modern slasher archetypes with a bit more edge and self-awareness, but still following the same doomed trajectory. One of them accidentally hits someone with their car (again), and they decide to cover it up (again), and soon enough the bodies start piling up (again). That the movie leans into the cyclical nature of its premise is smart. That it doesn’t find much new to do with it is less so.

That’s kind of the film’s biggest struggle - it’s caught between wanting to be a serious spiritual sequel and a goofy, blood-soaked crowd-pleaser. So we get emotionally fraught scenes of characters reckoning with grief and guilt, alongside absurd set pieces where the killer goes full Looney Tunes, rigging elaborate scare tactics and tormenting people with messages written in steam on bathroom mirrors and what not. It’s the same exact dissonance that has always haunted this franchise: you can either make the killer a symbol of guilt that eats away at you until you unravel, or you can make him a slasher icon who fills your car with crabs and throws mannequins at you. The film tries to do both and ends up tripping over itself.

Visually, the movie’s a mixed bag. There’s no matching the lush cinematography of the original, shot on film and dripping in that distinct ‘90s texture. This one’s digital, of course, and while there’s a valiant effort to bring some stylized lighting and stormy atmosphere to the kills, it can’t help but look a little flatter, a little more generic. The sound design is solid, and the score tries its best to evoke the melancholy tension of the first film, but like so many legacy sequels, the technical polish just makes you miss the rougher charm of the past.

Still, there’s something weirdly admirable about how much the film doesn’t try to be clever. Unlike Scream and the like, it’s not interested in commentary or deconstruction. It’s almost refreshingly earnest in its desire to just be a straight-up slasher sequel with returning characters, a few emotional beats, and a whole lot of hook-related violence. It’s the rare modern horror movie that isn’t trying to wink at you the entire time.

But that also means it struggles to justify its own existence. There’s a creeping sense of déjà vu throughout - every scene, every twist, every scream has been done before, and often better. The movie takes no real risks, and that leaves it feeling more like a well-produced fan film than a true next chapter. It gives fans of the original some closure, yes, and offers newcomers a reasonably tense and occasionally stylish ride. But it never fully comes alive the way it needs to.

By the time the rain stops falling and the final girl stands in the aftermath, you’re left wondering what exactly we gained from this return to Southport. The answer may very well be: not much. But for those of us who’ve always had a soft spot for this deeply silly, deeply sad little franchise, I Know What You Did Last Summer (2025) does enough to scrape by - part tribute, part retread, part reminder that sometimes the past should maybe just stay buried.

'I Know What You Did Last Summer' is now playing in theaters.