Witchboard (2025) Review: Ouija Believe It?

Chuck Russell’s reboot of Witchboard revives the cult horror title with eerie aesthetics but half-baked scares and bland characters.

Repackaged with a more Gothic flair, improved lighting, and a more upscale look, what Russell’s Witchboard gains in production polish, it loses in narrative urgency, and perhaps more disappointingly, its personality.

The film’s long path to the screen, starting in 2017 and surviving rebooted pre-production in 2023 amid the SAG-AFTRA strike, reflects creative restlessness that permeates the viewing experience. You’re never quite sure if it wants to scare you, seduce you, or get to the next scene as fast as possible.

Set in the heart of New Orleans’ moody French Quarter, the story follows Emily (Madison Iseman, Annabelle Comes Home) and her fiancé Christian (Aaron Dominguez, Only Murders in the Building), who are renovating an old carriage house into their dream organic café. Their artisanal aspirations sour into a supernatural nightmare when Emily discovers an ancient pendulum board, a sort of metaphysical relic with serious baggage, that serves as a gateway to the spirit world.

As Emily becomes dangerously obsessed with the board’s abilities, Christian enlists Alexander Babtiste (Jamie Campbell Bower, Stranger Things), a mysterious occult expert whose scholarly facade masks sinister intentions. The plot spirals toward a lavish masked ball where Emily and Christian must fight to save her soul from a coven of White Witches. Then there’s the slow-burning reveal of ancient entity Naga Soth (Antonia Desplat, Shantaram), a witch queen whose agenda goes far beyond candlelit séances.

Russell and co-screenwriter Greg McKay banish Tenney’s scrappy ’80s charm, replacing it with derivative scares borrowed from other horror franchises. The attempt to update the source material with stylized veneer trades sincerity for clumsy horror tropes. The elaborate death sequences feel lifted from Final Destination, while the occult mythology attempts to channel Hereditary without understanding what made those films effective. At 112 minutes, Witchboard suffers from serious pacing issues, overstaying its welcome like an unwanted spirit that refuses to move toward the light.

The performances range from adequate to actively distracting. Iseman and Dominguez struggle with exposition-heavy dialogue that front-loads their entire relationship history in opening scenes that feel more like screenwriting exercises than natural conversation. Their chemistry comes across as manufactured, lacking the authentic connection necessary to ground the supernatural elements that will later come into play. Charlie Tahan (Ozark) delivers exuberant line readings as their anxious business partner, though his character’s obsessive concern for restaurant operations provides unintentional comedy; he seems more disturbed by potential food safety violations than any spiritual haunting.

The film’s saving grace comes from Desplat, who plays the enigmatic witch Naga Soth almost entirely in French. Desplat radiates menace and mystery with commanding stillness that makes you wish the entire movie followed her perspective. Her performance carries genuine weight, understanding exactly what kind of film she’s inhabiting. Melanie Jarnson (Pan) also impresses as Brooke, Christian’s spiritualist ex-girlfriend, who feels like she wandered in from a more coherent movie.

Cinematographer Yaron Levy elevates the material through moody lighting and atmospheric visuals that belie the film’s budget. There’s gothic richness to the Salem witch trial flashback sequences that makes you wish the entire movie had stayed in the 1600s. Costume designer Véronique Marchessault wisely allocated resources toward elaborate historical garments, though her modern-day work lacks distinction. The film’s production design occasionally stumbles into unintended comedy, particularly in café signage, which features typography so generic that it appears one font away from Comic Sans.

Witchboard suffers from a fundamental identity crisis between reboot, remake, and reimagining. Russell and McKay miss opportunities to explore feminine persecution and historical injustice despite their witchcraft-centered story. It’s disappointingly apolitical and emotionally vacant. The characters are pawns in a narrative that seems less interested in their fates than in staging the next cool-looking shot. Even Campbell Bower’s silky menace wears thin by the third act, when motivations become muddled and the film stumbles toward its CGI-heavy finale.

While nobody was clamoring for a Witchboard revival, the concept had potential in capable hands. Russell’s horror pedigree suggested promise, but the final product feels frustratingly mediocre, resulting in a supernatural thriller that forgets to be thrilling and a horror film that fails to horrify. It’s like playing a vintage board game with missing pieces: the box art promises mystery, but the gameplay just isn’t there. Desplat delivers a performance that deserves better, and horror completists might find a few shivers worth the admission price. For most viewers, however, this polished misfire might be better summoned on streaming—if summoned at all.

Witchboard (2025) will be released in US theaters on August 15, 2025.