There’s not much to analyze in The Wrath of Becky, which might sound like a jab, but for grindhouse thrillers such as this, it comes as a compliment. The story is lean, the action is on point, and the dialogue is whipsmart. There is little to distract from the main attraction, which is the creatively gruesome ways in which everyone tries to kill each other.
It’s so simple, in fact, that you’d be forgiven for thinking this is a standalone film, instead of a sequel to an earlier movie, simply titled Becky. Efficiently, parts of the first installment appear as flashbacks here, but they’re hardly needed to convince us of Becky’s ferocious might. Wilson already does an excellent job with minimal but evocative gestures. Seann William Scott, too, is surprisingly terrifying as the head of the Neo-Nazi group out to get Becky. It’s easy enough to paint the incel as a villain, but to portray him with such palpable terror is a challenge that Scott steps up to.
"Becky’s need for teen kicks delivers enough delinquent destruction of Nazis to bring bloody satisfaction."
— Anton Bitel
"There’s a charming simplicity to a genre film that can be introduced as “Let’s just kill some fascists!” and Angel & Coote know how to pace and deliver this kind of gut punch of a movie."
— Brian Tallerico
Two years after she escaped a violent attack on her family, 16-year-old Becky attempts to rebuild her life in the care of an older woman -- a kindred spirit named Elena. However, when a violent group known as the Noble Men break into their home, attack them and take their beloved dog, Becky must return to her old ways to protect herself and her loved ones.
An altercation pits 16-year-old orphan Becky (Lulu Wilson) against a violent right-wing group known as the Noble Men. The result? A bloodbath for the ages.
That ending. What a perfect way to expand what seemed like a self-contained world into a bigger, more exciting future. Marvel take note! This is how you set up sequels.
Think grown-up Home Alone meets Promising Young Woman, but actually good.
