Sequels come with expectations, perhaps of inevitable disappointment. The two predecessors to this film were solid, tense and imbued with the adorable coupledom of John Krasinski and Emily Blunt who further burrowed into our hearts during Covid with their goofy charm.

So a sequel that’s a prequel and doesn’t have any of the same stars? It might’ve been a failure if it wasn’t for Lupita Nyong’o and her expressive face. And her cat.

This one shows us the onset of the alien apocalypse, as we glimpsed in part two, but this time in the noisy bustle of New York City. If you know anything about these films, you’ll know that dialogue is minimal so character names take a while to sink in. Samira (Nyong’o) is living in a hospice and angry that she’s dying and that it seems to keep dragging on. Terminal illness that feels interminable, reliant on fentanyl patches and having to live like an infant or a patient in a glorified hospital full of people you don’t like.

The promise of a bus ride to Manhattan and real pizza gets her out of her room, with chill cat Frodo clasped to her. She is at a marionette show – a moment of magical silence – when the apocalypse happens and it is as awful and shocking as you’d expect.  She has momentary connections with strangers, the most significant for those who have seen the other films with Henri (Djimon Hounsou) who is only called ‘Man on Island’ in A Quiet Place Part II.

This story is not about saving the ones you love and surviving as long as possible, it’s about coming to terms with death and we watch as Samira turns north when all others head south to evacuation, hoping that Patsy‘s Pizza in Harlem will have some untouched slices.

There isn’t the same tension and quiet drama as the first two, and for a while I felt it lacked character development. But then Samira meet Eric (Joseph Quinn) an English law student out of his depth and the connection they build becomes transcendent. The ending is genuinely emotional.

There are some failures of logic in the creative world – some small noises are death sentences and some large ones go unnoticed – but perhaps this can be explained by the characters’ lack of knowledge of their unfolding new world. The cat is an interesting choice, he provides a narrative connection and could be representative of Samira’s heart or soul. He is remarkably calm throughout, considering the mayhem around him, and sometimes disappears from frame for convenience but I was glad for him. There are not enough cats in films.

I think this didn’t pass the Bechdel Test. I know there wasn’t much dialogue but even the silent interactions were with men. There is a silent female child, a woman at the theatre with headphones on, a crying woman, a scared woman and then lots and lots of men. And Samira. She pretty much makes up for it.