They return — but this time, she’s equipped to defend herself.
In Send Help — to all-out horror-comedy — the Red Eye alum plays delightfully against type. Instead of a frazzled final girl, McAdams portrays Linda Liddle: the resident “workhorse” at a Fortune 500 company and a die-hard Survivor fan. By day, she takes on more work than required, skipping lunch to eat tuna sandwiches at her cubicle. By night, she goes home to her bird, studies survival manuals, and daydreams about the promotion coming her way. The former Preston president had promised her this promotion, but his passing brings a new boss: Bradley (Dylan O’Brien), a smarmy nepo baby whose first move is replacing Linda with his far less capable fraternity buddy (Xavier Samuel).
But Linda soon has the last laugh: when Preston’s private jet crashes en route to a business trip in Thailand, she and Bradley are the sole survivors. Stranded on a deserted island with no rescue in sight, Linda’s survival skills make her the new leader, while Bradley — already fairly useless, even without a gnarly leg injury — finds himself entirely at her mercy.
This kicks off the kind of class-conscious, cat-and-mouse thriller we’ve seen in countless forms, from to the nihilistic Triangle of Sadness. What sets Send Help apart is, of course, the Raimi touch: It’s been 16 years since the director delivered a straightforward horror, and he brings the full weight of his trademark gonzo gore here. While it still leans into predictable beats, Raimi, McAdams, and O’Brien are having so much fun that it’s impossible not to join the ride.
It helps that the island setting brims with unorthodox chemistry between the two leads. If you ignore the generous blood and gauntlet of gross-out moments, Send Help feels like a screwball comedy — just with dysfunction turned up to 20. McAdams effortlessly switches between endearing optimism and steely, slightly scary competence as Linda finds her footing in the wilderness, testing her survival skills. She shrieks with joy when starting her first fire, then lets out a guttural battle cry when slaying a wild boar. Bradley, meanwhile, can only watch in disgust — but O’Brien, long one of his generation’s most unsung actors, finds myriad ways to make his dissent dynamic. Bradley’s attempts to retain control let O’Brien flex his comedic chops, tapping into the manic energy that will readily recognize.
Bradley clings to his tyrannical status at first, triggering mind games that slowly chip away at his dignity. The sexual tension between the leads isn’t as pronounced as in Swept Away — but there’s something to how Linda grows hotter each day, shedding her frumpy office clothes like old skin as she gains confidence. Sometimes this comes at the cost of Bradley’s douche-y masculinity, but other times it breaks down his walls enough for this odd couple to form a fragile connection. The closer they get, the blurrier their boundaries: their mutual trust ebbs and flows like the tide, with tender moments one breath and gasp-worthy dominance displays the next.
Send Help shines brightest when all bets are off — letting go of quiet character work (crucial as it is) and pushing the nightmare scenario to its peak. That so much works is a testament to the cast’s commitment: McAdams has long shown her aptitude for absurdity, and Game Night fans will find even more to love in Linda. Though her moral compass is looser, she wears “crazy” so well you can’t help but root for her. The same goes for Bradley once his bravado breaks: O’Brien sells every triumph and betrayal with pitch-perfect skill. Their battle to prove who’s really boss pushes the story deeper into chaos. It teeters on capsizing, but under Raimi’s assured hand, Send Help delivers the campy return to form we’ve needed.