Gwen's Dreams Aren't Just Dreams in Black Phone 2
- Adom Teh
- Nov 8, 2025
- 3 min read
The basement is gone. Now it’s just snow, sleep, and nowhere to hide (not that you can exactly hide from your dreams). Adom, our Film and TV writer, steps into the nightmare to find out whether the sequel truly earns its scream.
What if the true horror isn't being confined beneath, but being seen yet still feeling invisible?
Black Phone 2 expands on that unnerving concept, moving away from the previous film's gloomy basement, where it based its anxiety around imprisonment, and into a setting that is both open and terrifying. The tight walls and oppressive shadows are gone, now replaced by boundless lengths of snow, vacant meadows, and passageways that appear to echo indefinitely. It's a move that makes the film feel much colder.
The frigid terrain reflects Finney and Gwen’s inner worlds, which are remote, numb, and quietly melting apart. The snow not only blankets the setting, but it also smothers the warmth of the plot. The loneliness is palpable in every picture, particularly in the way the siblings move around their environment, stuck in a quiet space that is heavier than any locked door.
As an audience in the cold cinema, I feel myself being immersed in the same experience as the protagonists.
Returning director Scott Derrickson really embraces the new tone. The vision is thoughtfully twisted, frequently captured through dreamy periods that blur the line between truth and nightmare. Shadows linger for too long, features flicker in half-light, and sounds reverberate as if from another realm. Derrickson's use of grainy textures and subdued colours lends the film a vintage horror look, recalling the analogue discomfort of Sinister, one of his earlier works. The end effect is a sequel that feels spiritually connected to The Black Phone while remaining confident enough to forge its own identity.
Black Phone 2 continues to expand the narrative, but this time, we shift the attention to Gwen. It dives deeper into the enduring agony caused by the Grabber's atrocities, daring to investigate how evil transcends death. Gwen’s dreams, already a huge character of its own previously, now play an even bigger role. They’re no longer just premonitions, but instead function as a kind of parallel universe where dreams and reality merge.
Within this dreamscape, the Grabber is able to hunt Gwen, leaving scars that follow her both inside and outside the dream world. Almost like he’s striking two targets with a single blow, in a way that calls to mind Freddy Krueger. Supported by Derrickson’s engaging worldbuilding, these ideas signal a clear effort by the filmmakers to evolve the franchise rather than simply repeat the original concept.
The treatment of gore has changed significantly in this sequel. Black Phone 2 does not hold back. Blood splatters against snow, and wounds are depicted with distressing realism (doesn’t help that they’re mostly from children). It’s never gratuitous, but it’s often shocking. Some viewers may find this escalation jarring, especially if they admired the restraint of the first film. Yet this heightened brutality feels deliberate, a reflection of a world that’s grown harsher and more unforgiving.
In the end, the movie feels like a nightmare half-remembered; familiar yet altered, echoing but evolved. It’s darker, harsher, and more ambitious than its predecessor. Whether that makes it better will depend on what you valued in the first film: if you loved the minimalist suspense of the previous one, this might feel overblown; but if you’re drawn to myth-building and some big old expositions, this sequel offers a rewarding descent into new horrors. I wasn’t exactly shocked, but I was disturbed in a quieter, more personal way. TZ
While Black Phone 2 might not be as tightly wound as the first, it’s certainly bolder in ambition. And just chilling enough to keep you on the line.
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