Dan Da Dan: Evil Eye isn’t a standalone movie—it’s a direct continuation of the anime’s ongoing narrative, essentially the next major arc told in feature-length format. The first 20 minutes offer a recap of Season 1, which helps refresh returning viewers but isn’t quite enough for newcomers to jump in cold. What follows is a bold tonal shift: the movie trades the series’ fast-paced humor and chaotic charm for a darker, more introspective look at pain, loss, and the weight of memory. It’s still full of wild psychic battles and absurd scenarios, but underneath the action lies something far more emotionally charged.

At the heart of this film is Gigi, who becomes the emotional core of the story. Unlike earlier episodes where he’s more of a comedic or supportive presence, here we explore his resilience, his past, and how far he’s willing to go to protect the people he cares about—even if it means facing horrors most wouldn’t survive. The paranormal threat this time is more than just a monster of the week—it’s a haunting spirit with a deep, tragic history that mirrors real-world trauma. The film cleverly uses this entity to explore how unprocessed pain, especially from childhood, can mutate into something destructive when ignored or misunderstood.

One of the most striking things about Evil Eye is how it handles innocence. The central ghost is a child trapped in time—still emotionally frozen at the moment of its death. It causes harm without understanding it, creating a chilling metaphor for how trauma lingers, influencing the world around it long after the initial wound. The film doesn’t present evil as black and white. Instead, it’s often confused, grieving, and deeply human. This ghost doesn’t want to destroy—it wants to be seen, remembered, and loved. That makes it all the more terrifying and sad.

The film also presents a fascinating idea about how trauma spreads. Psychic waves that cause people to harm themselves are the supernatural mechanism, but the underlying point is clear: hurt people hurt others. Some characters try to heal this cycle, others are consumed by it. Gigi stands out as someone trying to break it, but he’s up against a force that doesn’t want to be healed. The tension between helping and enabling is a powerful throughline, especially as characters begin to realize that some pain can’t be undone—only acknowledged and carried.

Visually, Evil Eye leans into horror aesthetics more than any part of the series so far. The psychic battles are intense, chaotic, and sometimes disturbing, particularly when it comes to the design of the ghost and the monstrous threat looming underground. There’s a tactile unease to everything—from flickering shadows to the suffocating sound design—that pushes the film into darker emotional territory. Still, it never completely abandons the energy that makes Dan Da Dan unique. Moments of humour, awkwardness, and emotional clarity shine through when they’re needed most.

What’s most impressive is how the film balances spectacle with substance. It’s not just about defeating a monster or surviving an encounter with the paranormal—it’s about understanding what suffering does to a person, and how even the best intentions can be manipulated by grief. The film asks tough questions: Can you truly save someone who doesn’t want saving? What does it mean to carry pain that no one else can feel? And how do you protect your friends when the danger isn’t just physical, but psychological?

Dan Da Dan: Evil Eye succeeds because it doesn’t play it safe. It takes real risks with tone, pacing, and character focus. It may not satisfy viewers looking for a high-energy standalone film, but for fans of the series, it’s a powerful and necessary evolution. It expands the world, deepens the lore, and leaves a haunting impression that sticks long after the credits roll.

Dan Da Dan: Evil Eye is in theatres now.