Netflix's Resident Evil is a strange beast, indeed, so far as adaptations of the legendary video game franchise are concerned. Starting all the way back in 2004, the original run of W.S. Anderson directed/produced Resident Evil films infamously cannibalized whatever franchise imagery and tropes it could while telling its own (increasingly incoherent) story. Much more recently, in 2021, Resident Evil: Welcome to Racoon City was a much more low-budget affair that attempted to adapt the specific events and characters of the original PS1 trilogy more faithfully; I never got around to watching that one, though the reception to the movie was mixed, to say the least. We also can't forget that throughout the run of all of these live-action interpretations, CAPCOM was also producing animated Resident Evil movies and mini-series that all serve as canonical sub-stories that existed within the larger video game universe.

Now, just a year after the live-action reboot movie, we've got the third attempt to create a live-action translation of the world's most famous games about shooting zombies and solving obtuse puzzles, and this show is taking the approach of telling a completely original story that also takes into account the full canon of the games and other animated movies (at least, that's what the showrunners say). That wouldn't necessarily be such a wild decision except for the fact that our main characters, Jade (Ella Alinska/Tamara Smart) and Billie (Adeline Rudolph/Siena Agudong) are the daughters of none other than Albert Wesker (the inimitable Lance Reddick). Obviously, I'm not going to be one of those weirdos that takes issue with casting actors of color as characters who were originally white; I will literally never turn down an opportunity to watch Lance Reddick do his thing. Right off the bat, though, Resident Evil is promising that it will somehow find a lore-friendly way to explain how Albert Wesker, a man who literally got punched into a volcano in the year 2009, now finds himself alive and well in the year 2022 (and the father of two teenaged daughters, no less!)

Here's the good news: Resident Evil does, in fact, find a way to answer that question, not to mention so many of the other that crop up throughout the series. New Umbrella's master plan, the reason behind Albert constantly taking samples of his daughters' blood, the cause of the worst T-virus outbreak yet—all of these plot points really do get satisfactory answers by the time the season's eight episodes are done. Are a lot of these answers unbelievably silly and dumb? Oh, hell yes, but that's a feature, not a bug. Already on social media, I am seeing folks rag on Resident Evil for its corny dialogue and insane shifts in plot/tone. Let me tell you something, though: I spent the better part of the COVID lockdowns playing through literally every single mainline Resident Evil game. I feel like I get this franchise, at this point, and you know what? Resident Evil is dumb as hell, most of the time, and its dialogue is often just as hilariously awkward as some of the lines these live-action characters spit out (especially in the high-school-drama heavy 2022 scenes). I'm down for it, personally, and I highly recommend that anyone digging into this show also do themselves a favor and just roll with the ridiculous punches. It's the Resident Evil way.

That isn't to say that this story-heavy scenario is entirely without merit, either. Yes, the script is often all too willing to indulge in its campiest impulses, no matter how serious the stakes may be, but the cast is completely game to make the constant tonal whiplash work. Lance Reddick is excellent as usual, and the four women playing the two different versions of each Wesker Sister have great sisterly chemistry, which helps sell some of their cheesier scenes together. Ella Balinska, especially, does a great job carrying the “future” half of the story. She's a capable dramatic actress and she can kick plenty of zombie ass when the needs arise, making her more than worthy to stand alongside the likes of Jill Valentine, Ada Wong, or Claire Redfield. The side characters are also well acted, and I especially appreciated the work that Irish actor Turlough Convery does for the Umbrella goon, Richard Baxter. Baxter gets the lions' share of the worst lines in every episode, but Convery commits hard enough to squeak by on his charm, and he's very impressive in what may well be the series' single best action sequence.

Resident Evil is far from perfect, though, and while that's fitting for a franchise that proudly wears the “B” in “B Horror” as a badge of honor, the show's flaws often fall outside the realm of ridiculous camp and simply make it frustrating to watch. The biggest offender, by far, is the show's pacing. Resident Evil's inaugural season consists of only eight one-hour episodes, but that is still too long by half. For context, the recent Stranger Things 4 managed to pack a whopping fourteen hours into its nine episodes, and the whole thing went by in a flash when I binged it over the course of a few days. In comparison, getting through just half of Resident Evil's eight episodes felt like it took twice that amount of time. Scenes are often sluggishly paced, with major gaps in meaningful action or drama in between long stretches of nothing much happening at all, and it absolutely kills the story's momentum. If the creators were somehow able to cut this season down into maybe five or six episodes that were all about 10-15 minutes shorter, I think it would be significantly more successful. The franchise may be famous for its hordes of shambling zombies, but nothing with Resident Evil on its nametag should ever outstay its welcome. Do I need to remind you all of what happened to Resident Evil 6?

The other main issue that the show suffers from is actually something it definitely shares with even the best of its video game cousins, which is that the human drama is usually more functional than it is compelling. The writers and actors are able to eke out some much-needed humor and pathos here and there, but for the most part, the more dialogue-heavy scenes serve mostly to get us to the next zombie action set piece. This is totally fine for the games, since the cutscenes never take too terribly long to get you back to the business of shooting zombies/cult members/goop monsters/torture rednecks/werewolves/sexy vampires/puppets/etc. For this show, though, the ratio of drama to action is reversed, where most of the product consists of human drama. It's never outright terrible, and the story picks up quite a bit around episode 5, but it's never as good as it should be. Cheesy dialogue and flimsy storytelling are easy to forgive when you're dealing with a 90-minute movie. An eight-hour-long Netflix drama, though? Not so much.

Still, I honestly think that both hardcore RE fans and total newcomers could find plenty to like with Netflix's Resident Evil, so long as they go in with proper expectations. If you imagine a version of one of those Sy Fy channel original zombie shows, except with copious amounts of cursing and gore, then you're on the right track. Nobody will ever argue that it's high art, and it's one of the few shows that might actively be better if you take advantage of that 1.5 speed option that Netflix has, but when Resident Evil works, it's a solid enough entry in the franchise. Let's just hope they iron out those pacing and writing issues if it ever gets a Season 2.