5 Movies to Watch If You Like 2026’s Resident Evil

Video game movies have delivered plenty of guilty pleasures, but Zach Cregger’s “Resident Evil” may be the first to feel genuinely excellent. Our review even made the case that calling it the best video game adaptation ever is not an overstatement, largely because the competition remains surprisingly thin. The film’s 95-minute running time helps it maintain a relentless pace, while its decision to disregard established game lore allows it to play like a cinematic version of the most disastrous video game run imaginable. It recreates the adrenaline of playing without sacrificing its identity as a movie, filtering the franchise through Cregger’s grimly comic sensibility.

Anyone looking for similar movies should probably avoid returning to the earlier “Resident Evil” films. Those entries may stick closer to the games, but they rarely match the bloody, chaotic comedy that makes Cregger’s version so distinctive. Instead, we’ve gathered five films that share its spirit: inventive horror-comedies, acclaimed video game adaptations and original stories that bring the rules and rhythms of gameplay to life. Some have earned widespread praise, while others remain divisive, but each offers a chance to recapture the same breathless rush as this lethal trip through Raccoon City.

By coincidence, “Resident Evil” is the second celebrated video game adaptation this year to begin with its lead character learning that his girlfriend is pregnant. In Cregger’s movie, the revelation gives Bryan a personal reason to push deeper into an infected Raccoon City and find his way home. In the Japanese hit “Exit 8,” adapted from the viral horror game, it is the final piece of information heard by a commuter known only as The Lost Man, played by Kazunari Ninomiya, before he becomes trapped in an endless network of Tokyo subway passages. The connection goes beyond that shared detail, however, as director Genki Kawamura gives this liminal-space nightmare the scale and visual language of a proper movie.

The survival challenge remains faithful to the game: the protagonist must identify changes in the repeating environment, and moving ahead after spotting an anomaly sends him back to the beginning. Kawamura and co-writer Kentaro Hirase turn that basic mechanic into a narrative shaped like a live playthrough. The Lost Man becomes a substitute for the player, slowly learning the rules while repeatedly making mistakes that seem obvious to everyone watching. Like Cregger, the filmmakers understand that adaptations are often more entertaining when the hero keeps failing rather than effortlessly mastering each obstacle. Their film differs by expanding the limited viewpoint of the original game into a fuller story.

Mike Cheslik’s indie comedy is not technically a video game adaptation, though its influence is unmistakable. Inspired in part by “Let’s Play” videos, “Hundreds of Beavers” gradually shifts from a spoof of survival movies into something resembling a chaotic playthrough of “Zelda” or “Animal Crossing.” Jean, played by Ryland Tews, is hopelessly outmatched by the beavers invading his apple orchard and cannot seem to catch even the simplest prey. His fortunes change after a Master Fur Trapper, played by Wes Tank, takes an interest in him, while the trapper’s daughter hopes to marry him. Her father agrees to the wedding only if Jean can first capture hundreds of beavers.

The film charts Jean’s development like an RPG character, showing him refine his hunting strategy, acquire new tools and gradually become more capable. Its frantic violence and physical comedy recall a live-action “Tom & Jerry,” yet its video game references are far more deliberate than the premise might suggest. Despite being largely silent, the movie uses familiar imagery—such as repeated trips to a merchant’s shop, straight out of “The Legend of Zelda”—to communicate information without lengthy explanations. Like “Resident Evil,” it moves at a furious pace and teaches its rules through action. It is arguably one of the finest video game movies that was never based on a game.

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Brian Yuzna’s body horror satire was embraced in Europe but savaged by American critics, remaining unreleased in the United States for three years after its premiere. Over time, however, it became a hugely influential cult movie, leaving its mark on a generation of genre directors. Its impact can be felt in the outrageous finale of “The Substance,” in the recent wave of anti-wealth black comedies and throughout the stomach-churning work associated with Cregger. Set in Beverly Hills, the story follows wealthy teenager Bill, played by Billy Warlock, who suspects that something is deeply wrong with his family. After his sister’s boyfriend dies soon after giving him a disturbing tape suggesting that Bill’s parents attended a murder orgy, the mystery only grows darker.

Taking the role of a noir detective, Bill searches for answers among his privileged classmates before discovering that the truth lies much closer to home. What follows is one of cinema’s most bizarre and grotesque third acts: a collision between Sam Raimi-style gross-out comedy and a Salvador Dalí fever dream. The twisted creature work in “Resident Evil” owes as much to this landmark film as it does to the original games. When Bryan encounters a body-fusing monster inside an otherwise charming family home, the resemblance feels especially striking, as though Yuzna’s movie was sitting somewhere in Cregger’s imagination.

The central figure in “Resident Evil” is a well-meaning failure who might save humanity from an undead plague if he could only stop making the wrong choice. That description applies just as neatly to Bruce Campbell’s Ash Williams in Sam Raimi’s “Army of Darkness.” In that film, the horror protagonist becomes something like Buster Keaton trapped inside a splatter movie—one reason it stands among the strongest entries in the franchise. Bryan is closer in tone to the Ash of “Evil Dead II,” but his misplaced confidence resembles the later version, as he slowly convinces himself that he is an action hero while repeatedly making matters worse.

During the finale at Umbrella Corporation, Bryan’s biggest mistake is assuming he has finally become capable of handling anything and that delivering the cure will automatically make him a hero. He still fails to consider the wider consequences of his choices. Ash faces a similar problem: celebrated in the Middle Ages after killing a Deadite, he soon endangers everyone by ignoring the rules, including his failure to remember the correct words needed to recover the Necronomicon. Both men are convinced that shortcuts will save time. Raimi and Cregger share an affection for reckless, flawed protagonists, then unleash catastrophe by placing those characters firmly in control.

The final recommendation will depend heavily on your tolerance for first-person camera work. Ilya Naishuller’s film may exhilarate viewers who enjoy its first-person-shooter design, while leaving others with an instant headache. Its brief first-person passages connect naturally with the perspective shifts in “Resident Evil,” making it a fascinating example of how far a gaming viewpoint can be stretched within a feature film. Naishuller, who later directed Bob Odenkirk’s more traditional action thriller “Nobody,” presents the entire story from the perspective of its title character. The result is a chaotic tribute to video games that has little interest in conventional logic.

After awakening inside an airship laboratory with Estelle, played by Haley Bennett, the protagonist escapes to Moscow while mercenaries pursue him and his cybernetic body urgently needs to be recharged. Sharlto Copley plays multiple characters who repeatedly return after being killed, delivering exposition as the hero races through the familiar locations of a science-fiction shooter: abandoned warehouses, strip clubs, hotels, secret facilities and cartoonishly evil lairs filled with cloned armies. None of it makes much sense, but that is beside the point. The film is built to overwhelm, hurling new threats at its hero faster than any gamer could reasonably process them. It represents the most aggressively amplified version of Cregger’s “Resident Evil” formula—thrilling for some, exhausting for others.