The Blended Family From Hell.
Little Evil opens with a man being buried alive by his stepson – and somehow finds a way to make that the least awkward part of parenting. It’s a bold, bizarre tone-setter, and the film mostly sticks the landing.
Little Evil follows Gary (Adam Scott), a newly married man who suspects his stepson Lucas (Owen Atlas) may be the Antichrist. While his wife Samantha (Evangeline Lilly) remains cheerfully in denial, Gary finds support from a group of hapless stepdads (including Bridget Everett, Chris D’Elia, and Donald Faison) as bizarre events – and ominous portents – begin to close in.
What Little Evil gets right – and consistently – is the delicious deadpan of treating The Omen like it was a step-parenting handbook. Eli Craig (of Tucker and Dale vs Evil fame) leans hard into that tone, wrapping the whole thing in an unironic sitcom warmth that shouldn’t work but absolutely does. It’s the kind of film where the archetypal “concerned new stepdad” character just happens to also suspect his new son caused a schoolteacher to set herself on fire mid-lesson. And because it’s riffing on The Omen with a wink and a beer in hand, the tropes feel affectionate rather than tired.
Scott, who’s always at his best when bewildered but trying very hard to be polite about it, anchors the chaos beautifully. He brings a kind of weary charm to the role, like someone who’s made peace with the idea that his stepson might bring about the apocalypse but is more upset that it might mess with his new lawn. Bridget Everett fills the best-friend role with wonderfully crude warmth, grounding the absurdity without deflating it.
Evangeline Lilly plays Samantha as the sunny, suspiciously oblivious wife, whose chirpy deflections and cloying optimism start to feel like cosmic gaslighting. It’s a slightly thankless role – the script keeps her in a state of Stepford unawareness for most of the runtime – but she commits to the tone, and her chemistry with Scott helps sell the idea that love can be blind, even to blood-soaked satanic altars.
Chris D’Elia pops up as one of the more laid-back members of Gary’s support group for stepdads, which also includes Donald Faison and Tyler Labine, all delivering fun, ragged-edged riffs on parental dread and helplessness. Kyle Bornheimer wrings a surprising amount out of a deeply paranoid conspiracy nut. And Clancy Brown turns up doing exactly what you hope Clancy Brown would do in a satanic horror comedy – bringing ritualistic intensity and booming-voiced menace while still playing it absolutely straight. Sally Field even makes a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it cameo, dropping in just long enough to remind you she can class up literally anything.
The film’s smartest move is its refusal to turn Lucas, the possibly-Satanic kid, into a joke. He’s played straight but remains darkly adorable, a Damien by way of Build-A-Bear, which gives the surrounding absurdity room to breathe. The real punchline is how quickly everyone else normalises the supernatural, as if satanic rituals and spontaneous grave-digging are just quirky red flags in a modern blended household.
Craig throws in all the horror hallmarks – creepy cornfields, demonic cults, an inexplicably sinister sock puppet – but keeps them nestled inside a structure that feels more Step by Step than Rosemary’s Baby. And while the plot plays out more predictably than you might hope, it’s elevated by its commitment to the bit: this is a comedy that’s not afraid to wear a pentagram on its sleeve.
Little Evil doesn’t overwork its parody, it filters The Omen through a parenting podcast and half a bottle of wine. It knows the beats, loves them deeply, and gently mocks the melodrama by dragging it into the suburbs and making it join the PTA. It’s light on the hellfire and brimstone, offering more like sulphur-scented dad jokes with a side of impending doom. And for a film about parenting the spawn of Satan, it turns out to be weirdly sweet.
