The Fly II picks up where the 1986 classic left off—or at least where it could plausibly continue. Veronica Quaife (Geena Davis, appearing only in archival footage) gives birth to Martin Brundle, the genetically doomed offspring of Seth Brundle (Jeff Goldblum). From the moment Martin is born, he’s a science experiment with legs—or rather, six legs waiting to sprout.
Raised by the sinister Bartok Industries, Martin grows up in a sterile, corporate laboratory, his rapid aging a genetic side effect of his father’s ill-fated telepod experiment. Martin’s brilliance rivals his father’s, but he’s also cursed with a ticking biological time bomb: the dormant fly DNA in his body is waiting to emerge. Throw in a romantic subplot with Beth (Daphne Zuniga), a corporate conspiracy, and plenty of slimy revenge, and you’ve got a movie that screams, “I’m not my father’s masterpiece, but I’ll try anyway!”
The pièce de résistance of The Fly II is Martin’s final transformation. After an hour of ominous foreshadowing, the inevitable mutation explodes onto the screen in a flurry of slimy prosthetics, grotesque appendages, and mandibles sharp enough to slice a CEO in half. The fully transformed Martin is both horrifying and heartbreaking, a tragic monster trapped in a body he didn’t ask for.
Chris Walas, who created the iconic effects in the original, pulls out all the stops here. The fly itself is a towering, insectoid nightmare brought to life with practical effects and animatronics. The level of detail—from the glistening exoskeleton to the twitching antennae—is a testament to the craftsmanship of Walas and his team. The transformation sequences are stomach-churning but mesmerizing, with bubbling skin, elongating limbs, and a cacophony of squelching sound effects. It’s equal parts fascinating and nauseating—a hallmark of the Fly franchise.
The practical effects team deserves a standing ovation for their dedication to slime, gore, and all things grotesque. The telepod effects, where characters are fused with other organisms, are a highlight. One particularly gnarly sequence involves a hapless Bartok scientist whose botched teleportation results in a twisted amalgamation of human and machine. It’s a scene that will haunt your dreams—or at least make you question your next attempt at DIY teleportation.
The final showdown at Bartok Industries is a smorgasbord of creature carnage. The fly’s revenge on the corporate overlords is delivered with gleeful brutality, with the effects team sparing no expense on dismemberment and squishy sound design. This is where the movie earns its stripes as a late-'80s horror flick: by reveling in the gory spectacle.
While the original Fly explored profound themes of human frailty, ambition, and the dangers of playing God, The Fly II opts for a more straightforward narrative. There’s a touch of commentary on corporate greed and the exploitation of science, but these themes feel underdeveloped, more like an afterthought than a driving force.
Instead, the film focuses on Martin’s tragic arc—his search for identity, love, and revenge. Eric Stoltz gives a commendable performance as Martin, capturing the character’s blend of innocence and intellect. However, the script doesn’t give him much to work with, and the supporting cast struggles to rise above their archetypal roles.
This is the big question. The Fly II isn’t a bad movie—it’s just a mediocre one living in the shadow of a masterpiece. The special effects are undeniably impressive, and the fly’s transformation sequences are worth the price of admission for fans of practical horror. However, the plot is thin, the dialogue is clunky, and the characters are forgettable.
For die-hard fans of creature features and body horror, this sequel offers enough goo and gore to satisfy your cravings. But if you’re looking for the emotional depth and intellectual stimulation of Cronenberg’s original, you’ll be left swatting at air.
The Fly II is like a second helping of dessert when you’re already full. It’s indulgent, messy, and unnecessary—but if you’re in the mood for something sticky and sweet (with a side of entrails), it’s worth a bite. Just don’t expect it to leave the same lasting impression as the original. This is one fly that didn’t quite take off, but it sure made a loud buzz trying.
Now, the real question is: Did we need a Fly III? Let’s leave that one to the telepod of history.