Redux Redux: A Clever, Emotional Revenge Thriller Fusing Familiar Sci-Fi Tropes

Image: Saban Films

Modern storytelling has frequently leveraged the concept of the multiverse to navigate the complexities of bereavement. From the high-concept drama of Fringe and the frantic nihilism of Rick and Morty to the kinetic animation of Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse and the mystical horror of Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness, characters often traverse dimensions in a desperate bid to reclaim lost loved ones. Writers Kevin and Matthew McManus, known for their work on Cobra Kai and American Vandal, lean into this thematic framework in their indie sci-fi thriller Redux Redux. However, the duo invigorates the premise by weaving it together with another narrative staple: the time-loop odyssey. The result is a somber, claustrophobic drama that succeeds on atmosphere, even if it occasionally stumbles over expository dialogue that over-explains its own subtext.

In the world of Irene (Michaela McManus), interdimensional travel is a banal reality, where shifting between universes is discussed with the same casual indifference as upgrading a smartphone. Haunted by the murder of her adolescent daughter, Irene scours the infinite for a reality where her child survived. In a grim departure from typical genre tropes, Irene doesn’t just mourn; she retaliates. Abandoning the role of the grieving mother, she evolves into a methodical serial killer, hunting her daughter’s murderer across every reality she visits.

By the film’s opening, Irene is a woman hollowed out by her mission. She carries the same weary, detached cynicism seen in Palm Springs, echoing the fatigue of someone who has lived the same day for decades. Her ritual has become mechanical: arrive in a new dimension, locate the imposing chef Neville (Jeremy Holm), verify his guilt by uncovering his gruesome trophies, execute him, and move on. It is a cycle of violence as predictable as it is exhausting.

To preserve her sanity, Irene indulges in brief moments of artificial connection. She regularly seeks out Jonathan (Jim Cummings), a man mourning his own losses, and initiates a fleeting romance that ends as soon as she leaps to the next world. Multiversal fiction often explores a form of existential solipsism, where nothing truly matters because every choice is mirrored elsewhere. Jonathan serves as the tragic anchor for this theme; he is the only person Irene attempts to know, yet to him, she is forever a stranger.

Irene’s relentless pattern is disrupted when she discovers Mia (Stella Marcus), a runaway teen held captive in Neville’s basement. Mia is fierce and unpredictable, demanding to join Irene on her quest for vengeance. While their partnership follows a fairly standard narrative arc, the chemistry between the two leads provides the film’s emotional pulse. Mia’s chaotic energy forces Irene to confront the rigidity of her routine, breaking the mechanical nature of her existence.

While many multiverse stories prioritize grand spectacles and vibrant alternate realities, Redux Redux opts for a more grounded, suffocating approach. The worlds Irene visits are nearly identical, making her journey feel more like a purgatorial loop than an adventure. The film excels at capturing the “non-place”—the gas stations, motels, and roadside diners that feel disconnected from time and space. One particularly intriguing sequence involves an underground marketplace for reality-shifting technology, hinting at a broader, fascinating societal collapse that the film chooses to keep in the background.

The film is at its most potent when it uses the sci-fi conceit to mirror the stagnation of grief, much like Russian Doll or All You Need Is Kill. A particularly sharp moment occurs when Irene realizes that in one specific universe, Jonathan has quit smoking—a tiny, heartbreaking deviation that signals he is moving on with his life while she remains trapped. Unfortunately, these subtle beats are often undercut by heavy-handed monologues where Irene explicitly details her psychological decay. The film’s themes of dehumanization and the cost of obsession are visible in every frame; they didn’t need to be spoken aloud.

Ultimately, Redux Redux serves as a compelling reminder of why multiversal stories endure. Beyond the corporate crossovers and comic book spectacle, the genre is best suited for intimate tales of human regret. Irene is a woman who has dug infinite graves in her pursuit of vengeance, illustrating the profound courage required to stop looking backward and start living in the present. It is a stark, effective metaphor for breaking the cycle of trauma.

Redux Redux is currently playing in select theaters.

Source: Polygon