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Handling the Undead and the Aching Horror of Grief

Handling the Undead is the slowest zombie movie I have ever seen. But that’s not a criticism per se. The fact that its apocalypse of the undead is so gradual and muted is very much the intent of this movie much more about the emotional side of such a hypothesis than the larger societal or conflict themes that so often drive this genre. In a way, it’s not even about zombies at all, but the very pertinent horror of letting a loved one go, which three sets of families struggle deeply with doing.
The movie, a Norwegian production, is directed by Thea Hvistendahl based on the Swedish novel of the same name by John Ajvide Lindqvist, with whom she co-wrote the screenplay. But for the author having a hand in his own adaptation, it seems very sparing in its fealty, scaling back considerably its scope; and as well limits its dialogue, as it allows mood and feeling to drive its storytelling. But perhaps that is the point of the original work. The three family narratives aren’t connected at all, save for the mutual grief of a recent tragic loss. For Anna (Renate Reinsve), it was her young son Elias (Dennis Østry Ruud), for David (Anders Danielsen Lie) it was his girlfriend Eva (Bahar Pars), and for Tora (Bente Børsum) it was her partner of many decades Elisabet (Olga Damani). Each make their way back to their loved ones, albeit in their partially decomposed form and, though a shock, the desire for the undead to be present again to the souls they touched is overwhelming -even as it is clear to all that they are not the same.
Hvistendahl creates an atmosphere reflective of the air of grief that permeates all three stories. It is a hauntingly quiet movie, large parts set in empty spaces formerly full of life, now patently dark, claustrophobic, unwelcome. We don’t glimpse many characters beyond the affected families, as though the world has already fallen into apocalypse. For the bereaved, it very much has. Both the director and writer have a very precise, humane understanding of grief, and take to illustrating its emotionality in blunt terms. They’ll let a shot linger on Anna staring vacantly into space in her son’s old bedroom, her face red and eyes puffy from the tears. That unspoken anguish is relayed so raw as well in Tora aimlessly pacing the rooms of her house, the signs all around of her and Elisabet’s life together.
Yet while there is some comfort in these figures coming back, it is lined with a distinct dread -these zombies being symbols of the unwillingness to let go. Anna and Tora are especially desperate in their denial, caring for the walking corpses of their loved ones as a substitute for carrying on with the pain of loss. Tora brushes Elisabet's hair, dances with her to a romantic song, Anna holds Elias -keeping him near to her. David doesn't actually spend so much time with the undead Eva, as though simply the idea of her being alive is enough for him without having to confront what she is now. Of Eva's kids, teenage Flora (Inesa Dauksta) is sceptical and young Kian (Kian Hansen) whose birthday is around the corner is mostly confused -neither have really gotten to the mourning stage yet. All will have to recognize and cope with the reality in their own traumatizing way.
It is a subdued horror that drives the film, but an effective one nonetheless -not at all surprising coming from the man who also wrote Let the Right One In. It posits in a non-literal way the disturbing spectre left by a death on the living. Maybe we don't have to look at their vacant corpses hanging around, but the fact of their death is a persistent terror we cannot easily shake. This is the sensation I think Hvistendahl captures precisely, and in a way that other zombie movies don't have the interest or patience in addressing. It's a respectfully audacious lens for the movie to implement. But there is a degree to which it can become exhaustive. This is a very grim movie, on top of which it lacks much energy by design -Hvistendahl is so committed to her atmosphere that it can at times be terribly dreary for the wrong reasons. The danger of this movie slipping into unrelenting, perhaps hollow gloom is not totally averted. And it's not so hypnotizing or artfully motivated as other 'slow' movies can be -it's grief sometimes low-key enough to become mundane, usually in beats where the emotional tether is out of sight.
When it is apparent though, the direction and performances are such to carry all the weight of the context. Reinsve is of course a stand-out, as is Lie (sadly the Worst Person in the World pair don't ever reunite on screen in this movie), and Børsum delivers exceptionally well with probably the most nuanced sadness of anyone. These actors have some very tough scenes to perform, especially late in the movie when honest confrontation with death becomes a necessity they each have to deal with in harrowing ways.
It's a remarkably potent metaphor for the trauma often unavoidable in fully coming to terms with a loss; though it doesn't make the scenes where David is finally convinced or Anna lets go any less vivid or upsetting. There is the suggestion that the more conventional zombie outbreak is around the corner -a couple characters are bit; that ticking clock emphasizing the limited span of time before it is undeniable to our protagonists that the ones they love are truly gone. Not much relief or comfort is offered by this movie, in spite of its catharsis. But I suppose that's the idea of this horror flick on grief.
The pre-eminent social metaphor subset of the horror genre, it's rare to see a zombie movie that finds a genuinely new perspective. By using the concept as a means of dissecting loss and grief, and the unspoken terror of these things, Handling the Undead makes for a uniquely interesting entry in the genre. It's a bleak movie, and at times perhaps egregiously dim, but it speaks with great empathetic resonance to its inherent trauma.

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