It used to be the case that films opened with a set of credits; name of studio—“Universal Pictures Presents”—proudly stated first. But these days the main credits are often parked at the end where they merge awkwardly into the traditional, rolling, smaller-writing style of the full-cast-and-crew list. The superiority of the old-fashioned, credits-up-front kind is perfectly illustrated with a blinding sequence preceding “Five Nights at Freddy’s 2” (which begins, correctly, with “Universal Pictures Presents”), showing now at the Montrose Playhouse. The designers use black-and-white newspaper headlines to reprise the previous film and educate (or remind) the audience about historical murders at a pizzeria during a children’s party; this is overlaid onto old-style video games, to build a strong association between the film and its origin as such a game in the first half of the twenty-tens; this hodgepodge is accompanied by an rousing arrangement of the famous Toreador March from the opera “Carmen,” to indicate that the film will propel us to some place or another. Idea within ideas—winking to fans and aficionados—becomes a game which is skilfully employed throughout the one hundred and five minutes which follow.
One of the games that the filmmakers play with the audience is to introduce a science fair—which will take place on the Saturday after the film’s action commences—for which high-school students, under the overcritical eye of their teacher Mr Berg, played by Wayne Knight, are constructing something very precise; “We’re making real robots here people,” he tells the students, excitedly. It’s essential that the school wins the competition as they are defending a “three-year winning streak.” But Mr Berg doesn’t want one of his students, eleven-year-old Abby, played by Piper Rubio, to attend at all. “He’s rough on everyone,” one of her classmates consoles, optimistically. “Don’t let him get to you.” But Abby has other matters which clamour for her attention. She has imaginary friends. “Maybe you can make friends with some real kids,” her older brother, Mike, played by Josh Hutcherson suggests, also optimistically. Her friends are in fact actual robots, animatronic teddy bears wearing sweatshirts emblazoned with names like “Let’s Eat,” or “Let’s Party,” trapped inside Freddy’s. And one night, after Mike returns home from dinner, he finds a piece of paper glued to the back of the front door. “Gone to fix my friends,” it says. Abby has snuck away to spend time with the robots.
Meanwhile a television crew of “Spectral Scoopers” arrives in a “Scooby Doo”-style van at a dingy old restaurant; it is the (now shuttered) first branch of Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza and the place where “a little girl got murdered.” Continuing with the “Scooby Doo” theme, they are met at night by a creepy security guard, Michael—played by Freddy Carter as a facsimile of Norman Bates from “Psycho” (1960)—who, we suspect, will have a part to play in the strangeness which will follow. “You’re cool if we record everything?” one of the Scoopers asks. “Of course,” Michael replies. “That’s why your here isn’t it? This place will play on your imagination if you let it.” And shortly after the camera begins to roll, the gang can’t believe their luck. “This might be our best episode yet,” one of the Scoopers says. “Usually we have to play it up.”
In fact almost the whole town plays up the events of that night; the filmmakers enact yet another game with the audience by choosing that, rather than mourning or memorialising the tragedy, the residents of the town in which it happened become groupies, dressing up to attend ghoulish celebratory events, like fans in the gaming world. Many of the older residents of the town don’t think this is such a good idea. In practice much of the audience for “Five Nights at Freddy’s 2” will be familiar with the video games from ten years ago, and the first film in the franchise, which was only released last year. This somewhat disadvantages those coming to the Freddy’s phenomenon for the first time, for whom there are too many overlapping backstories. One solution for this would have been to take the opportunity provided by the Scoopers to develop the plot—but this is foreclosed because their appearance in the action is too brief. So when one of the humanoid animatronics says, “Parents are all the same and I have to punish them for that,” I found myself scribbling the word “Why?” in the margin of my notebook (there are many such examples). And it really doesn’t help that both male leads are called “Mike”/“Michael” for reasons which, again, are not explained.
All the standard paraphernalia which the audience naturally expects to be included are there. There are sporadically-working music boxes and white-noise-producing televisions; flashlights and fluorescent-strip lighting and blue-grey lighting; graves and creaking doors and polished floors; screaming women and cackling men; clocks ticking and water dripping and cars not starting; and finally—to bring us unto the mid twenty-twenties—the animatronics have embedded facial-recognition software.
A sensible decision is taken not to play Abby, the high-school-age star of the film, as the kind of horror-film hero epitomised by Wednesday in “The Addams Family”—pouting, or morbidly dressed in black. Instead Miss Rubio is regally assured, not awkward as many eleven-year-old girls might be. Abby is helped by likeable Mr Hutcherson’s portrayal of her brother as a nice guy who deals with things calmly and takes things in his stride. In the closing credits, many puppeteers are named who created the animatronics and whose work is excellent. And compared with the overlong “Eternity,” also out this week, “Five Nights” is competently edited and does not overstay its welcome.
Once Abby figures out how to release the adult-human-size animatronics from their prison inside Freddy’s, she hauls the one whom she has befriended, Chica, to the science fair—which is by this stage underway at school. Mr Berg, Abby’s teacher, is furious. The audience is well aware that he will meet a predictable end at Chica’s hands, but he still has time for one more outburst. “Take your freak-show friend,” he bellows, “and get out of my science fair!”
Adam Poole
8th December 2025
If you are interested in viewing this screening, please book your tickets here
